Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
Thank you very much to all of those who reviewed – hugs and kisses to you! ;)
Elelith pointed out something I think it's interesting because I had to muse about the subject when writing the last chapter–thanks for that, Elelith!- and other reviewers also commented on it. Here goes her remark: "But are you sure you didn't overplay the Mudblood sentiment a little. I mean, the whole anti-muggleborn thing is not at its peak, and even in canonHarry Potter, the Slytherins veiled their disgust..."
Answering back… Well, I rather thought that the anti-muggleborn sentiment back then must have been even stronger than in canon years, because in the 1940s the dark purebloods must have been very emboldened, since they had a Dark Lord in Europe, Grindelwald, who was succeeding, already having two countries in his grasp so far (Germany and Austria) – Voldemort never managed a small fraction of that. And unlike canon -when the Slytherins had to watch what they said because many of their relatives or parents had been put on trials or gone to Azkaban for supporting Voldemort in his First Rise- these Slytherins of the 1940s haven't known such defeat yet, and thus are arrogant, over confident, and more outspoken. But still, the Slytherins wouldn't openly go calling mudbloods to other muggleborns at school. They openly did so to Harry and Tom because they are from their same house, so it would remain in-house, so to speak. And of course that with Slughorn, as their Head of House, they would see no reason to not openly say what they believed. And also, at the Slytherin table, the younger Slytherins yelled and forgot themselves, firstly because they're still children and thus don't have the restrain and coolness of the older Slytherins, and secondly because they must have been extremely shocked – there had never been muggleborns in Slytherin House before- and also because none of them had ever been confronted with a muggleborn before in their lives. So given all this, I thought their reactions should be a little bit explosive.
Answering a doubt, the 'mysterious woman' Harry sees is Narcissa Malfoy. If you'll remember, in Chapter 1 of Part II, 'Santi' told her to sing to her baby the lullaby, to create a connection and anchor Harry's soul in his new baby body. That Harry Riddle from time to time sees her face and hears her voice singing Alice's lullaby is just an side effect of that, because he is tied to the timelines and the past and future, since he's the 'anchor' and the time-traveler.
This is also why Druella Rosier, who will be Narcissa's mother, looked so familiar to Harry, because he had already experienced seeing Narcissa's face when he was in Diagon Alley.
On another note, I'm aware that students at Hogwarts don't have Care of Magical Creatures in their first year, but they do in these times of the fic. In my fic, it was so, and it changed due to reasons we might see later.
I hope these explanations helped!
Enjoy and Review, please!
Part I: Chapter 15
The following morning, Harry was awoken by a loud, horrified gasp and by a blistering, piercing pain flaring in the scar on his forehead.
Feeling much rested after his night of sleep, Harry sat up straight and then pulled the curtains open of his bed. He instantly jumped to his feet when he caught sight of Tom, standing in his threadbare pajamas in front of his wardrobe and desk.
The doors of his brother's wardrobe were parted and Harry saw that all the clothes inside were destroyed, as if some wild animal had ripped them to pieces. The top of Tom's desk was wide open as well, showing all of his brother's destroyed quills, books, and parchments, as if claws had slashed them. The inkbottles were broken too, blue and black ink dripping from everywhere.
Given the staggering pain on his forehead, Harry knew that Tom had to be in a murderous fury, but his brother was merely standing there, his stance rigid but his expression blank.
Then, Harry realized that there was a terribly pungent bad smell in the room, and he finally moved around his bed and caught sight of the other boys in the room.
Alphard Black was standing near the entrance door; it seemed the boy had taken the only other bed on Harry's and Tom's side of the room. The boy's mouth was hanging open - clearly he had been the one who had gasped.
At the other side of the fire in the center of the room, stood the other four boys, dressed in tunic-like night clothes which appeared to be made of some soft, silky and thick material.
Abraxas Malfoy was silent, with a cool expression on his face, but Orion Black was tittering with nasty laughter, the hulking, meaty boy, Thaddeus Avery was shooting Harry and Tom a malevolent sneer, and Neron Lestrange was gazing at them with a cruel glint in his eyes and an expression of anticipation on his rough face.
"Look what he's wearing!" jeered Neron Lestrange, his brown eyes travelling along Harry's frame, his expression contemptuous. "Like his twin!" He shot Harry a disgusted look. "What – are you mudbloods dirty poor, to boot?"
Harry didn't answer since he was watching how Alphard Black slipped out of the room, unnoticed by the rest of the boys. He bristled with anger at that – it seemed the boy was fleeing! It had to mean that Alphard had participated in the nasty prank of destroying all of Tom's things.
Thaddeus Avery and Orion Black guffawed at Lestrange's jibe. And then Avery gestured at Tom's desk and wardrobe, as he sneered mockingly, "Do you like our little present?" The hulking boy then pointedly darted his eyes to Harry's trunk.
It was then that Harry realized that he hadn't been spared. He quickly approached his trunk, and he gasped in horror at the sight, realizing what was the source of the stench in the room.
His trunk was filled to the brim with muddy water, brown things floating on the surface. A message, in glittering green letters, floated in the air above: 'Dung for Mudblood Scum.'
And all his things were there! Unlike Tom, he hadn't unpacked the previous night.
Harry suddenly felt such a surge of fury that he swirled around and made a lunge for the boys, his small hands ready, clenched into fists.
"Don't!" hissed out Tom, instantly grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him back. "That's just what they want – do nothing!"
Harry shot him an incredulous glance and whispered back, angrily and nearly spluttering, "But they've wrecked all our stuff! How are we supposed to buy everything again? We don't have any galleons left except the three I have!"
"He was going to physically assault us!" cried out Orion Black in disbelief.
Neron Lestrange let out a scathing guffaw. "Because that's what filthy muggles do – they use their fists! They don't know how else to fight!"
Harry swung around at that, ready to jump at them again to show them just what Mr. Hutchins had taught him. He had managed to beat Dennis Bishop, thus against these boys he could land some painful blows and crack some noses before he was overwhelmed by their numbers.
However, Tom's tight grip on him prevented him from even attempting it. And just when he was about to wrench himself free from his brother's grasp in order to attack the boys, Dorea Black came sprinting into their room.
Alphard Black was right behind her, slipping into the room, panting as if he had ran for miles, but also quietly, clearly not wanting any of the others to notice him. He shot Harry a covert wink as he slinked towards his bed, looking very proud of himself.
Nevertheless, Harry utterly ignored him, which made Alphard look crestfallen for a moment.
Dorea took the scene before her with one sweep of her light grey eyes, and then instantly rounded on Abraxas Malfoy, as she said angrily, "Didn't you listen to what I said to all of you last night!"
Abraxas arched an eyebrow at her, as he said impassively, "I had nothing to do with this."
Dorea suspiciously narrowed her eyes at the boy, clearly believing that Abraxas must have been the mastermind behind the cruel prank. Harry would have thought so too, since from what he had seen, Malfoy was clearly the leader of his group of friends.
"We did it, Aunt!" pronounced the handsome Orion Black, looking mutinous as he gestured at himself, Thaddeus Avery, and Neron Lestrange.
In a flash, Dorea turned around to pierce the boy with a furious scowl, then glowering at the other boys, as she spat, "I've had it with you little snots! Go and change in the bathroom and leave, before I hex you!" She gestured briskly at Harry's trunk and Tom's wardrobe and desk. "I'll deal with this."
"We're are not going anywhere," snarled Neron Lestrange, squaring his shoulders and glaring at the fifth-year girl, "if you're going to help the mudbloods and undo what we've done!"
Dorea bristled like an angry, ruffled cat. Indeed, her long, glossy black hair even seemed to start sticking in all directions, as she shook her head in fury. Then she paused, a wicked gleam in her light grey eyes.
"You're not going anywhere, you say?" she intoned placidly, then she graced the boys with a dangerous smirk. "We'll see about that."
In the bat of an eyelash, she whipped out her wand and swooped it in mid-air, in a slashing motion, as she snapped, "Divesto!"
The four boys' tunic-like sleepwear suddenly split in the middle and dropped to their feet, leaving them standing there, completely naked.
"Aunt 'Rea!" cried out Orion Black shocked and aghast, his handsome face flushing in mortification as he quickly covered his groin with his hands.
The hulking Thaddeus Avery stood there, his mouth opening and closing, dumbly, before he clutched a pillow to cover his private parts, looking too stunned to do anything else.
Abraxas Malfoy hadn't been spared either, and he had been the first to react, quickly getting a bed sheet and wrapping himself with it, his cheeks going pink.
Neron Lestrange had covered his bits with his hands, his face a splotchy, violent red, as he spluttered incoherently.
Alphard Black, the only one of the other boys who hadn't been affected, meanwhile, was covering his mouth with a hand, choking as he tried to repress his guffaws.
Then, Lestrange seemed to find his voice, and he thundered furiously, "How dare you do that! Uncovering our private parts!"
"You have nothing I haven't seen before," scoffed out Dorea Black. "And believe me, I have no interest in seeing your pathetic, little bitty pricks," she added, demonstrating by mockingly wiggling her pinky finger at them.
Neron Lestrange gaped, and then roared, "You have no shame, you scarlet witch!"
Dorea Black irreverently snorted, and then waved a hand at them, dismissively. "Scamper off now, you little snots, before I do something else to you."
"Let's go," said then Abraxas Malfoy, in a cool, commanding tone of voice. "I don't want to miss breakfast."
And with that, he grabbed his school bag and his clothes, entering the bathroom without sparing Dorea a second glance. His friends swiftly followed, though the moment they closed the door of the bathroom shut behind them, Harry could hear Neron Lestrange's and Thaddeus Avery's furious voices.
Alphard Black had also grabbed his things, but he had remained behind. He approached Harry now, looking hesitant for a brief moment. Then he squared his shoulders as he stood before him.
He gazed at him with entreating expression on his face, as he said vehemently, "I had no part in what they did. As soon as I saw, I went to fetch Dorea." The boy bit his lower lip, as he added quietly, "And I did try to warn you not to enter our compartment in the Hogwarts Express. You have to understand that I cannot openly-"
"Alphie," interrupted Dorea, her voice sharp as she narrowed her eyes at her nephew. "Go with the others. You can speak to him later."
Alphard looked uncertain for a second, but then he nodded. He shot Harry a wink and then dashed to the bathroom. Harry frowned, wondering just what the boy wanted from him.
As soon as they were alone, Dorea shot Harry a scowl, but she said nothing about the matter as she approached Tom's wardrobe. She merely grumbled under her breath as she wielded her wand, "Right, let's fix this, then."
It took her but a few moments and an uttered spell, to mend all of Tom's clothes, and as she moved towards the desk, Tom said solemnly, "We appreciate your help-"
"I'm not doing this for you," snapped Dorea irritably, without even glancing at them as she started waving her wand, fixing Tom's books, quills, parchments and inkbottles. "I'm not happy about having muggleborns in my House. Your presence here is causing much disruption. And if I hadn't come, Slughorn would have heard of it." She scoffed snidely. "Spineless, useless Head of House that he is, Slughorn, nonetheless, would have had no other option but to dock points from Slytherin for what your roommates did." She did glance at them, then, glowering darkly. "And that, I cannot have. I want to win the House Cup this year."
Then she went silent again, and moved to Harry's trunk. First, she siphoned the water, then vanished the dung, cleared the message, and finally proceeded to clean and dry all of Harry's things. It took her quiet a while, and Harry shifted on his feet, not sure what to make of her.
He glanced at Tom, seeing that his brother was scrutinizing her, with a calculating look in his eyes.
At some point, while Dorea was busy with Harry's stuff, the other boys came out of the bathroom, dressed in their school robes and with their school bags hanging from their shoulders.
Abraxas coolly waltzed out of the room without looking at them, with Orion Black trailing after him. Only Avery and Lestrange shot Dorea dirty, angry looks. And Alphard, the last, gave Harry a cheerful wave of the hand, before trotting out.
Harry scoffed and turned away, watching the girl and trying to learn, from observation, the many spells she was using, in case something like that happened again. Tom was doing the same.
Finally, Dorea finished with her task. Though she halted, a second later, moving a hand to touch her hair, as if finally realizing that there was something not quite right about it.
With a look of irritation, she then brandished her wand and spun it around her hair, which looked a mite messy.
Harry blinked, when, in the next moment, her hair was neatly groomed again; not a hair sticking out of place, all long, glossy, black waves now.
Dorea Black spun around to gaze at them, her eyes narrowing as she said briskly, "I am going to keep my Slytherins in check in the House. Mind you, outside of the dormitories and the common room, you're on your own. The Slytherins will hex and jinx you, but you better not retaliate and lose us points-"
"If we're going to be attacked," burst out Harry with indignant anger, crossing his arms over his small chest, "then of course we'll defend ourselves and attack back–"
The fifth-year girl instantly rounded on him, and she hissed out warningly, "No, you won't, or I'll make your lives miserable." Dorea shot them a hard look. "You'll have to put up with it. You won't go complaining to any prefects, professors, or the Headmaster. I'm sure you can find other ways in which to prove to your housemates that bullying you is not the way to go."
"I'm sure we can," agreed Tom placidly, his lips tilted in a slight smirk.
At that, Dorea shot him a long, suspicious and scrutinizing glance. Then she nodded, apparently looking satisfied with whatever she had found.
Harry gave his brother a bewildered look, at Tom's easy compliance, but remained quiet.
"Very well," said Dorea, then letting out a deep exhalation of breath. "Now I'm going to teach you a couple of spells, to lock your trunks, your armoires, and the top of your desks." She leveled at them a dark look, as she muttered crossly, "And a charm to shut your curtains close, so that no one but you can open them. I overheard Walburga and a couple of second-years planning to slip into your room tonight, to hex you whilst you slept."
Harry stared at her, utterly surprised at her offer, and the girl instantly bit out, "Well, what are you waiting for! Get out your wands – I'm not about to be late for my first class, as well!"
The three of them only missed their breakfast, but she did teach them, briskly and impatiently, though quite effectively.
However, in the following weeks, it became quite a burden and an impossible task for Harry to try to keep their promise to Dorea Black.
They became the most hellish weeks of his life thus far. As the girl had warned them, they were attacked right, left and center. Not a day went by that Harry didn't get tripped or painfully elbowed, not to mention that he was frequently ambushed.
Normally, it happened around the corner of some corridor, as he returned from lunch or dinner from the Great Hall. A group of older Slytherins would always find him, often led by the nasty Walburga Black.
They had caught him unprepared many times, so quickly casting on him a series of hexes and jinxes, with his aggressors then quickly fleeing, that Harry could only drag himself up to the Hospital Wing. That was the one place in the castle that he came to know very well.
Miss Nightingale Wellbeloved, Hogwarts' mediwitch, always clucked her tongue when she saw him, eying him with compassion. During his first time in the Infirmary, the young witch had taken a shine to him, revealing that she was a halfblood.
The mediwitch's mother, a muggle, had apparently named her after the famous English muggle nurse, Florence Nightingale, who had done such a pioneering work in nursing during the Crimean War, tending to wounded soldiers.
The mediwitch was so proud of that, that she preferred to be addressed by her first name, as simply Miss Nightingale.
Once, when Harry had been laying on a bed, with feathers continually bursting from his mouth and with tentacles for hair, Miss Nightingale had tutted, "It's only ten days since the start of term and you've been here six times already."
She had shot him a considering look, and offered gently, "I don't usually report incidents to the Headmaster unless the wounds are grave, but I will, in your case, if you want me to do so."
Harry had sullenly shaken his head. He knew that that would only make matters worse, not to mention that Dorea Black would be furious if the Headmaster found out about what was happening which would obviously lead to points being taken from Slytherin House. And Tom wouldn't like it either.
So from then onwards, the mediwitch simply reversed the hexes and jinxes cast on him and healed him, if needed, and then send him away, shaking her head with a look of pity in her eyes.
Regardless, before that, the second time he had landed in the Infirmary, the Prewett twins had found out about it and had paid him a visit, bringing him bunches of Chocolate Frogs and a book – 'A 101 Most Nasty Hexes and their Counter-Spells'.
Felicity had been livid with fury when she had seen Harry's state; his face covered with painful boils, and his hands with enormous, hideous warts.
As she gave him the book, she had proclaimed vehemently, "We'll teach you as many jinxes and hexes as we know, and their counters."
"We're also telling our cousin Muriel, and the rest of the Gryffindors, to keep a watch out for you," piped in Felix, looking determined to help his friend.
The Prewett twins had indeed taught him many spells. During every bit of their spare, free time that they didn't use to do their homework, they slipped out of the castle to the school grounds, where they practiced their hexes, jinxes and counters.
However, it didn't make much difference. As soon as Harry demonstrated that he had learned how to cast back hexes, the Slytherins had taken to attack him from behind and from afar, to then quickly vanish before anyone could see them.
Moreover, having the Gryffindors protect him had only made matters much, much worse.
The first day when the Gryffindors had done so, Harry had been surrounded and greatly outnumbered, plastered against a wall as he shouted hex after hex. The ringleaders had been Walburga Black, Thaddeus Avery, and Neron Lestrange.
A second-year Gryffindor girl had suddenly come upon them, halting in her tracks. With her hair pulled back in a strict bun, and her lips pursing together in a flat line when she caught sight of the scene, she had swiftly turned around and ran towards a flock of older housemates who were coming around the corner. The girl was Minerva McGonagall, Harry would later find out.
The girl returned seconds later, with Muriel Prewett at her heels. The Head Girl's eyes had gleamed with triumph and much pleasure, as she snapped, "Fifty points deducted from each one of you for attacking a fellow housemate!"
Then Muriel's lips had twisted in an even greater, gleeful smile, as she turned her gaze to Harry. "And twenty points from Slytherin House for hexing a girl!"
Harry had gaped at her, thoroughly angered at the injustice. He had managed to cast on Walburga Black the Bat Bogey Hex – Felicity's favorite. Indeed, Walburga had been shrieking then, frantically batting her hands at her nose, which had enlarged and grotesquely turned into a snout with black, leathery wings sprouting from it, attacking her face.
"Oh, I'll protect you whenever I can. I know you're friends of my cousins," Muriel Prewett had whispered to him, as she took him to the Infirmary, "but I'll grasp the opportunity of taking as many points from Slytherin as possible."
Clearly, the twins' cousin was no altruistic soul. From then onwards, Muriel Prewett was on the prowl, like a hawk swooping upon the Slytherins every time she caught them bullying Harry, taking points from them all, and never sparing Harry either.
The Head Boy, Algernon Wilkes, and Dorea Black had been furious at all the points Muriel was docking daily from Slytherin House. Indeed, it had initiated a war between the Head Girl and the Head Boy, both deducting points from the other's House for every little thing, with Harry in the middle, being used like their pawn.
Wilkes and Dorea even confronted Walburga openly in their common room, resulting in a fearsome and hateful shouting match between aunt and niece.
Walburga didn't relent, but when Dorea Black threateningly promised to Neron Lestrange and Thaddeus Avery that she would use the Divesto Spell on them, in the middle of the Great Hall, to have them standing there naked to be jeered at by the rest of the school, the two boys had stopped attacking Harry. But that only made them turn more vicious when insulting him.
In the midst of it all, Abraxas Malfoy constantly observed him, like he had done after Harry's interaction with the Bloody Baron during the Welcoming Feast. Malfoy didn't insult him, didn't call him a 'mudblood'. In fact, the boy didn't speak to him at all.
Abraxas had often been present when the Slytherins attacked Harry, but he never participated, nor did he prevent it. Abraxas simply watched him, only reacting, by looking amused, his lips tilting upwards or his eyebrow arching, when Harry darkly scowled at him with annoyance.
Alphard Black, on the other hand, made many attempts to redeem himself. Indeed, it had happened thrice, when Harry had been ambushed in the dungeons, that Dorea Black or Algernon Wilkes suddenly appeared, putting a stop to it, with Alphard behind them.
Evidently, the boy was fetching one of them when he heard of or caught sight of Harry being attacked. But he was always careful to slip away before any of the other Slytherins noticed what he had done.
Moreover, several times, Alphard had looked for Harry, when he happened to be alone and unobserved.
"I'm doing what I can," said Alphard, his tone of voice insistent and sometimes even soft and pleading. "I want to be your friend. We had a good time in Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley, didn't we? But you must understand, I cannot be your friend openly. My father would surely do something drastic if he found out I was friends with a muggleborn. But we can be friends in secret!"
The boy always said something along those lines, suggesting they met in empty classrooms, to play Exploding Snaps, to share the sweets and candies Alphard received from his mother, or to work on their essays together.
However, Harry always rejected him. It wasn't enough, in his opinion. He wanted a friend who would stand up for him, and not one who was ashamed of being seen in public with him. He always said so to the boy, hotly and angrily. And then Harry always turned heel and left Alphard behind, a forlorn, downcast look on the boy's face.
The boy kept trying though, and many times Harry was tempted to cave in, because he had never felt so alone and dejected in his life.
The Prewett twins were good friends, his only ones, but they had Gryffindor friends of their own and preferred to spend most of their time in their common room.
Harry had been invited several times, and there, he had even been introduced to a first-year boy that the twins had befriended during their first days in Hogwarts.
Algie Longbottom was a self-confident and sometimes arrogant, tall boy, but he had welcomed Harry in their midst with a warm smile, and was quite amicable. They also shared a common interest, since both Harry and Algie had proven to be quite good, even the best, in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"I know all sorts of counter-curses and shield spells," one day Algie had disclosed quite proudly, as he was playing chess with Felix Prewett in the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Felicity watching them as they all chatted together, "beyond second year level, even, because my sister, Augusta, is a very good dueler and she has been teaching me. You might have seen her around. She's a prefect, sixth-year."
The boy had paused to sweep his blue gaze around the common room, and then had pointed a finger at a rather severe looking girl. "Oh, there she is!" Then he had leaned towards Harry, as he whispered with much smug pride, "I'm trying to learn as much as I can because I want to be an Auror, you know?"
That led to a very enlightening discussion, for Harry, of what Aurors were and did, and about the several departments in the Ministry of Magic which also monitored the happenings in the wizarding community, like the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Improper Use of Magic Office, the Obliviator Unit, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and even about the Department of Mysteries – which had all of them speculating and, well, mystified, regarding what Unspeakables actually did in that secretive, lower level of the Ministry.
Harry came to just tolerate Algie Longbottom, because sometimes the boy was too conceited, and he certainly didn't like him as much as he did the twins. However, his stays in the Gryffindor common room were not always fully pleasant. Sometimes, he felt some tension in the room, and saw that older Gryffindors from time to time shot him dark, suspicious looks.
Once, he even overheard one of them muttering, "He might be a muggleborn with his housemates against him, but he's still a Slytherin, isn't he? The Hat sorted him there, so it's proof that he's just a slimy snake like all the rest. Clearly not to be fully trusted…"
The twins hadn't noticed, but it was evident to Harry that not all of the Gryffindors welcomed him there, as the Prewetts had assured him.
Not to mention that Harry didn't like their common room much. It was stuffy, overly decorated with garish red and gold everywhere, too hot, and the Gryffindors were a too loud, rambunctious and boisterous lot.
Moreover, one day, an older housemate openly confronted him in the middle of the Slytherin common room.
Of course, after the way the Head Girl went about docking points from them, they had realized that Harry had the Gryffindors' so-called 'protection' – though Harry certainly didn't consider it as such, given that Muriel gleefully took advantage of it- and they had certainly seen that he spent much of his time with the Prewett twins. But apparently, it all became too much when they heard that he had been going to the Gryffindor common room.
"We, Slytherins, don't mix with Gryffindors!" had spat at him the older boy, looking enraged and thoroughly disgusted and contemptuous. "So we don't want to see you cavorting with any of them, you hear! You're tainting our House's name by doing so, mudblood!"
By then, Harry had known, of course, that Slytherins hated Gryffindors, and that it was a mutually shared sentiment. And they didn't consider Hufflepuffs to be worthy. Apparently, they only tolerated and somewhat respected Ravenclaws. But that wasn't the point.
"Oh, so now I'm considered a member of this House, am I?" had burst out Harry, bristling, having had enough. "But none of you will befriend me because I'm a 'mudblood', so I'll have friends from whichever House I damn well please. And if you don't like it," he had then jumped to his feet, bellowing at the top of his lungs, "THEN YOU CAN STUFF IT WHERE THE SUN DOESN'T SHINE!"
And with that, he had ran out of the common room, with tears of sheer fury, yet also of misery, in his eyes.
Harry knew he would have been able to bear his isolation, his loneliness, and the plain hatred his housemates felt for him, if he just had Tom by his side. But he didn't.
One day, the Prewett twins had toothily grinned at him, proposing that he simply sat at the Gryffindor table during lunch and dinner. Harry had almost done so. It had never happened before, had informed him Felix with a mischievous gleam in his blue and brown eyes, but there wasn't any rule against it.
Oh, after the Welcoming Feast, when the younger Slytherins had made 'an spectacle of themselves', as Dorea Black had put it, they had all been careful of never behaving like that again. Indeed, the Slytherins only insulted him and called him a 'mudblood', when no students of other Houses were around, and most importantly, when no teacher was in hearing range.
However, every time Harry took food from the dishes they all shared, many Slytherins shot him glowers, and quietly, yet angrily, grumbled. It made the meals very tense and uncomfortable for Harry.
Thus, one evening, he had made a move to stand at the beginning of dinner, since the Prewetts twins had been grinning and gesturing at him to come over.
But Tom had instantly grabbed his arm, yanking him back on the bench, as he hissed out angrily, "Don't even think it."
Harry had gritted his teeth, as his brother had continued acerbically, "You'll make matters worse with our housemates if you do it."
"I'm fed up!" Harry had whispered angrily, glaring daggers at him. "You tell me not to attack them back when they hex me, you tell me not to go to any professors, not to complain, to keep silent and put up with it. But I cannot go on like this, Tom!"
"I'm already carrying out the first stage of my plan," snapped Tom sharply. "So just be patient!"
Harry had clenched his hands into fists, trembling with anger. Nevertheless, he had swallowed any further protests when Tom had shot him a very dark, ominous look. So he had ended up eating as fast as he could and leaving the Great Hall early, to morosely sulk by himself.
Though, he certainly didn't know what 'stage' Tom was referring to, since the boy had been doing nothing but spending all his time in the library, studying or researching. Outside of class, Harry never saw hide or hair of him except at night when they went to bed.
Indeed, Tom did nothing but that and earning loads of points for Slytherin House every day in class, which was much needed given the Head Girl's deducting-points-spree.
He saw even less of Tom after one night, when his brother had shown him a glittering, golden 'ticket', which was, apparently, a pass to the Restricted Section of the library.
Very smugly, Tom had disclosed to him how he had managed to cajole Professor Slughorn into giving him a pass. They had had to write a seven-inch essay about Dittany and it's magical properties. And Tom had found a very brief mention, in a book, about how the ingredient was also used in Dark Potions.
His brother had used that as an excuse after a Potions lesson, when Tom had stayed behind –Harry remembered that well since his brother had waved him away, and Harry had left, puzzled.
It seemed that Tom had approached Slughorn, ever so politely, humbly, and with such a look solely of innocent interest and curiosity, that the teacher had given him a pass without a second thought. Because of course that someone as brilliant as Tom would feel curiosity about how Dittany was used in more complex potions, even if they were considered Dark. Slughorn had congenially chuckled as he said that, according to his brother - no doubt feeling that Tom was a kindred spirit.
His brother had indeed quickly become Slughorn's favorite student. Not a Potions lesson went by in which their Head of House didn't gush and praise Tom, calling him a natural talent in potions-making, the wizard's eyes gleaming greedily as if he was beholding a great asset.
"With this," Tom had said to Harry, looking extremely pleased with himself as he waved the golden pass, "I'm sure I'll finally find information about the Chamber of Secrets and Slytherin and his descendants."
Indeed, during the first week of school, Tom had been very irritated because the library didn't have any books concerning those subjects.
After that, he saw even less of Tom. His brother certainly hadn't been around all the times Harry had been attacked. And when he saw the results of it, or when Harry told him, his brother just sharply ordered him to bear it and, "don't whine like the crybaby you are!"
It made Harry bristle, his mood souring. Though he didn't think Tom could imagine what it was like. The Slytherins certainly didn't attack Tom like they did Harry. Oh, they had tried, Tom had told him that.
The Slytherins soon figured out that Tom spent all his free time cooped up in the library and they had decided to wait for him at the entrance and ambush him there. But Tom had seen them by the threshold, and the moment the librarian announced it was closing time, making all students leave, Tom had immediately engaged the man in a long-winded discussion about Gobstones, which seemed to be Mr. Ciceron Plume's favorite game. They chatted for so long that the Slytherins had given up, returning to their dorms, sulking and grumbling bitterly.
On another occasion, Tom had waited for a group of first-year Ravenclaws to leave the library and he had immediately slipped into their midst, leaving the library together and thus inherently protected by them, chatting up one of the girls and using his charming ways to full power.
Tom had done this with much ease, since the boy had already 'befriended' some first-year Ravenclaws before then. It had happened after their third Transfiguration lesson, which the Slytherins shared with the Ravenclaws.
A bunch of them had waited for Tom at the door, after class, and had then pounced on him, looking angry and irritated at all the points Dumbledore had given Tom during the lesson, and demanding to know why he hadn't been sorted into their House. The pompous Tiberius McLaggen - the boy who had been in their boat and who was also the Minister of Magic's grandson- had led the group.
Feigning surprise and somehow managing to even blush with humbleness, Tom had softly expressed that, alas, before arriving at Hogwarts, he had known nothing about the Houses. Indeed, Tom had assured them, if he had known, he would have certainly asked the Sorting Hat to be sorted in their House, to be amongst such clearly excellent and brilliant students as they were.
And then he had further charmed them all, and bestowed upon them gorgeous, warm smiles. By the end of it, only McLaggen looked irked and miffed, but only because his housemates now had another student who they fawned over, as they did with him.
Even Olive Hornby, the prettiest first-year Ravenclaw, who had before then always orbited around McLaggen, shooting him enamored, adoring, coy glances, had started to do the same to Tom.
Harry, for his part, just wished Tom would treat her badly at some point, because from what he had seen of her, she was a cruel girl. Olive had taken an instant dislike to her housemate, Myrtle Mimbletinon, and taunted her mercilessly, especially very loudly whenever McLaggen was around. The boy seemed to enjoy this, because McLaggen was often seen sneering at Myrtle, looking down his nose at her with disgust and a superior look on his face – just as he had done when they had taken the boat trip across the Black Lake.
Though, Olive Hornby didn't mock Myrtle because she was a muggleborn -as Harry had found out that she was- but due to Myrtle's weird, deranged personality and due to her less than attractive looks. Olive had even invented a little singsong. Harry hadn't heard it fully, but it involved Myrtle's pimples, 'ugly mutt', and thick eyeglasses, along with her bouts of wails, moans, and sobs.
In a few days, the whole school was calling the girl 'Moaning Myrtle'. And several times, in the Great Hall, Myrtle had loudly yelled at her housemates, spitting mad with fury, her unbalanced mood then swinging abruptly, making her burst into tears, ending up running out of the Hall, wailing and sobbing. From what he heard, the girl had started to spend much of her time in a girls' bathroom.
Harry had felt stabs of pity for her, and even guilt because Myrtle had at first shot him expectant, sharp and demanding glances, as if to remind him that he had promised to be her friend. Then, she began to look at him accusingly, with much anger.
However, he had never approached her, and had turned tail and scampered off the few times Myrtle had been lurking, ready to jump on him and confront him.
Yes, he felt compassion, but he wasn't about to make his situation worse by befriending such a girl, especially when he already knew that Myrtle got on his nerves and that he wouldn't be able to put up with her for long. And crying girls just made him feel so utterly helpless, awkward, and uncomfortable.
Regardless, that aside, the point was that every time the Slytherins tried to ambush Tom, the boy always found a sneaky way of dodging them.
It only made Harry resent the unfairness of it all, because he could hardly use the same tactics since he liked to be out and about instead of cooped up somewhere. He was an easy target given this. Furthermore, it didn't seem to him that the Slytherins were trying as hard to make Tom's life miserable. Harry suspected it was due to the many points Tom earned for them everyday.
In the end, Harry only found respite from all of this during his classes. Three of them soon became his favorites: Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures.
He liked those not only because they were the subjects which fascinated him the most and thus he studied willingly, but also because he seemed to have a natural inclination for them, discovering that he could cast the spells they were taught which much ease, most times being successful in his very first attempt.
Silvanus Kettleburn was their Care of Magical Creatures professor. He was a spindly, thin man, with his left hand missing, without an ear, and Harry suspected with a wooden leg as well, given how the wizard limped and awkwardly moved around. Apparently, his missing body parts had been caused due to the many years the man had dealt with dangerous creatures.
Nevertheless, he was a patient, gentle man who had already taught them about several amazing magical creatures and showed them a few, as well. And Harry had been thrilled to discover that many of the creatures 'of myth and legend', of Alice's fairy tales, were actually real. Granted, sometimes they were called differently in the Wizarding World, and in their tales, Muggles seemed to have made many mistakes regarding their attributes and appearance. But still, they were not fantasy!
Harry's favorite lesson so far had been when Professor Kettleburn had taken them to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, where a couple of unicorns had been pasturing, all white and astoundingly beautiful and ethereal, as if they were merely a dream that could vanish at any moment.
"There are many false beliefs regarding unicorns," the teacher had told them very quietly, as if not wanting to startle the gentle creatures, "such as that they can only bear the touch of virgin maidens. That is not so. They only tolerate the touch of those who are pure of heart."
The Slytherins shared that class with the Hufflepuffs, and as if proving their professor's explanation, one unicorn had then approached a Hufflepuff girl and boy, who had cooed and oohed and aahed, as they gazed, wide-eyed, at the beautiful, delicate creature.
Harry had been startled when, suddenly, a soft, warm muzzle had nuzzled his neck. He heard Lestrange and Avery guffawing and jeering at him, saying something mocking, but Harry hadn't paid them any attention. He had been too dazed and entranced by the sight of the white unicorn, which was so innocently and with such implicit trust bumping its nose against his cheek.
And then he had caught sight of the creature's long, thin horn, and Harry had stared at it, taken aback, because it wasn't white to his eyes –as their professor had said- but rather, it glowed magnificently with a golden light. It was magic.
That had been the first time in which Harry realized that, apparently, Hogwarts' magic wasn't the only magic he could see. And clearly, he didn't see the castle's magic because Hogwarts allowed it, as a means of welcoming him as one of Slytherin's Heirs, as Tom had told him. His brother thought that that could be the only explanation for Harry's strange ability that Tom didn't share.
With an amazed, silly smile on his face, Harry had then hesitantly caressed the incredibly soft hairs between the unicorn's nostrils. But his interaction had been brief, because a moment later the unicorns neighed and they had all trotted away into the depths of the forest. They were certainly skittish creatures that didn't like to be in others' company, whether they were 'pure of heart' –whatever that meant– or not.
Harry then saw that Tom, on the other hand, had been bored, utterly indifferent and unimpressed with the creatures.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught by Medea Merrythought. She was very old, with a heavily wrinkled, marred face, with grey hair she always wore in a long, thin braid, and blue, crinkled eyes. Yet, she seemed to have great bouts of energy, and though she was brisk and stern, she proved to be an excellent teacher.
Harry had overheard that she had been a renowned Curse Breaker and Treasure Hunter when she had been young and had worked for Gringotts. That could explain why half of her face was marred and distorted, looking melted as if it had been burned by something a long time ago. If she had anymore scars on her body, it couldn't be seen, since she always dressed in long-sleeved robes that were buttoned up from toes to chin, and made her look like a black crow.
They shared that class with the Gryffindors, and Harry and Algie Longbottom soon distinguished themselves when they were all taught basic defensive spells such as minor shields.
Professor Merrythought never praised them like Slughorn did with Tom, but she never failed to give them points and look silently proud of them.
Tom and Abraxas Malfoy many times matched Harry and Longbottom in being the firsts to successfully cast the spells. However, whilst the teacher gave points to Tom as well -and more often than not due to Tom's participation in class by correctly answering all the questions regarding theory that she posed- curiously enough, she didn't do the same with Abraxas.
Indeed, for some mysterious reason, the old witch ignored the boy all together, as if he didn't exist. In the beginning, Abraxas raised his hand the many times he knew the answers to her questions, but Merrythought never called on him, instead turning to Tom.
After that, Abraxas sat stiffly in class and never participated again, but Harry had seen the frosty, cold look in the boy's silver eyes whilst piercing the old woman with a narrowed-eyed gaze.
The much lauded, handsome and blonde Tilly Toke, bearer of an Order of Merlin, First Class, taught them Charms, which they shared with the Hufflepuffs. These, in particular, gazed at their famous Head of House with utter awe-struck adoration and worship. Moreover, all the girls in the class, even the Slytherin Priscilla Pucey, always sighed softly, besotted and blushing, at his sight.
Harry hadn't known quite what to expect of him, but he certainly hadn't been prepared for what the man proved to be. Tilly Toke was utterly and fabulously unorthodox, and he instantly became his favorite teacher.
The very first day, the Professor stood in front of the class, smiled at them, and skipped any introductions, and asked, "What would have any of you done if you had been suddenly confronted by a rogue dragon, like I was?"
The students blinked and stared, and then Neron Lestrange raised a hand.
Mr. Toke rolled his eyes. "There's no need to raise your hands and wait to be called on in my classroom." He grinned at them, and added cheerfully, "Just say what's on your minds, let your thoughts spring forth, unhindered by old fashioned behavioral rules such as hand raising! Let's hear it then, Mr. Lestrange!"
Lestrange looked discomfited and utterly appalled for a moment, clearly not liking the professor's way of conducting his class, but then finally replied sharply, "I would have cast a Conjunctivitis Curse on the dragon."
"Ah, ridding it of one of its stronger senses – sight." Mr. Toke shook his head. "But it's a dangerous, brutal curse, and not one viewed upon favorably. Not to mention, that by casting it, it would have angered the dragon, making it more wild and violent. And let's remember that I was sunbathing in that beach in Ilfracombe, surrounded my defenseless muggles that had to be protected. What other suggestions do you the rest of you have?"
"A Slashing Curse," said Abraxas Malfoy coolly. "To split the membrane of one of the dragon's wings, and make it fall down."
"But then the dragon's body would have flattened," interjected Tilly Toke, distressed, "and squashed to death many muggles, Mr. Malfoy!"
Abraxas didn't look particularly bothered by that, but he didn't retort.
"You could employ a lethal curse, sir," supplied Tom then, his tone very polite and quiet.
The handsome, blonde teacher frowned at him. "Such as?"
"I don't know, sir," intoned Tom smoothly. "I have not looked into Curses, and I certainly don't want to know about such ghastly, terrible ones that could kill." He shuddered, looking horrified at the mere thought, before adding in a sensible tone of voice, "But there was to be some curse that can mortally wound a dragon, professor."
"Indeed there are," muttered Tilly Toke. "But they're hard to cast and it would take a very powerful wizard to kill a dragon with one of those curses." He gazed at his students, as he added gently, "And let's not forget that a dragon is a living, sentient, magical creature. Indeed, the most ancient and magnificent of all, and as such, it shouldn't be killed, even if it was to protect others."
The Hufflepuffs instantly nodded, in complete agreement and understanding, and then one of them, a small boy, raised his voice timidly, "A Confounding Charm, maybe?"
Tilly Toke warmly smiled at him. "Such a spell wouldn't work on a dragon, but you're on the right track, Mr. Bones. The answer is, indeed, Charms!" He shook his head, as he added in dismay, "A wizard in my shoes, would have relied on Curses, because we're used to do so in threatening, dangerous situations. But it always results in people getting hurt, and it tends to worsen the situation, making it a matter of violence."
His hazel eyes shone, as he continued eagerly, "With Charms, however, being creative, you can resolve any problem and any situation peacefully, without causing harm to others, not even your enemy. That is the marvel of Charms! With them, you can become excellent duelers without the need to resort to Defense Against the Dark Arts spells and curses, and you'll take everyone by surprise because wizards only tend to use Charms for their daily, trivial toils." He shook his head disparagingly, rolling his eyes. "More often than not because we're too lazy to even lift a finger, stand up, and do things with our hands. Instead, we use our wands for every little thing."
Then the professor paused and graced them with a beaming smile, as he inquired, "Can any of you tell me how I only used Charms to deal with the dragon and save those muggles?"
"My mum told me," breathed out a Hufflepuff girl, gazing at him reverently, "that you used illusion and glamour charms, sir!"
"Quite right," said Professor Toke cheerfully. "Ten points to Hufflepuff!"
The Hufflepuffs beamed, and those close to the girl clapped her on the back, cheering her. Harry's eyebrows shot upwards – quite a supportive bunch, they were. And apparently, they weren't that used to earning House points, if they reacted so excitably.
"That's unfair," hissed out Capricia Carrow quietly, yet her anger was clear in her voice. "We have him loads of suggestions for Curses, and he didn't give us one single point!"
"He's their Head of House," muttered Neron Lestrange darkly. "He's obviously completely biased, that explains it."
Harry rolled his eyes, biting his bottom lip to suppress what he wanted to snap at them. Evidently, the teacher's explanation, about why Curses shouldn't be used against the dragon, had flown over their heads.
"Now I'll explain, step by step, all the Charms I used," said Mr. Toke brightly, as he brought up a hand and started ticking off his fingers. "Firstly, the moment the dragon swooped down on the muggles in the beach, I illusioned myself, with a series of glamours, to look like a dragonet. No easy thing, I grant you, and even less to do it so quickly, but by the end of your Hogwarts years I fully expect you to be able to cast such complex illusions and glamours on yourselves, on others, and on all sorts of objects."
He beamed a warm smile at them, as he continued, "With that I caught the dragon's attention. But I needed to fly, didn't I, to make it believe I was indeed a youngling of its species. Furthermore, I had to lead it away from the muggles, staying several feet of the dragon itself so that it wouldn't be able to smell me from afar and thus realize that I was just a wizard. Yet, I had no broomstick with me! So what did I do?"
Mr. Tilly Toke paused to see if any of them had any clue. When none replied, he went on cheerfully, "Well, very simple – I cast a Levitating Charm on myself!"
Druella Rosier snorted in scathing disbelief, and the professor shot her an even wider smile, as he intoned pleasantly, "Oh, not many can use that Charm on themselves, or others – that's another thing I'll be teaching you, and you'll be mastering by the end of this term, I promise! But the trick is all in the wrist, you see?"
He demonstrated by flexing his wrist as he aimed his wand at himself. It did look like an uncomfortable, awkward position, given the angle the wrist had to bend in order for his wand to be pointing at himself.
"So, I floated up into the air," continued Mr. Toke eagerly, as if rehashing a great, fabulous adventure, "and then I cast a Hover Charm on myself, and directed my movements with the tip of my wand, making myself fly through the air, far away from the beach and muggles. It was indeed tiring to keep the Charm on myself for so long, I could feel the strain in my magical core. However, casting and maintaining such charm, even the most complex and powerful ones, depends mainly in a wizard's will and determination, as much as his magical power!"
"Finally, I landed in the middle of a forest, with the flying dragon at my heels. But the rouge creature wasn't violent or angered. It believed it was following a baby dragon, after all. So it wanted to take me by the scruff of my neck and carry me away with it. Dragons are very protective of their younglings, even those which aren't theirs."
"So the moment my feet touched ground, I instantly used a Summoning Charm on the first stone I saw, and then, I turned it into a portkey, with another charm!"
The moment Orion Black opened his mouth, Mr. Tilly Toke rose up a hand, as he chuckled. "Yes, I know that most wizards don't bother to learn the Portus Charm, as it is quite tricky and difficult. And they're commonly used for vacationing travels, so most just go to the Ministry's Department of Magical Transportation and buy themselves a portkey there, to wherever they want to go – that's one of the Ministry's greater sources of income!"
He chuckled wryly, and then continued, "Since the Ministry workers there have hundreds of pensieves with recollections of all sorts of destinations, which they keep updated, and thus, they need only to plunge their heads into the pensieve with the memory of the place the paying wizard wants to travel to, and the Ministry worker, with that image in mind, can then successfully create a portkey."
"Nevertheless, I've always believed that the Portus Charm is extremely useful to get out of sticky situations, and I fully intend to teach you the spell on your fourth year, so that you have three full years afterwards in which to master the charm." He shot them a mischievous grin. "After all, it's not illegal for a wizard of age to create his own portkeys, as much as the Ministry has attempted to ban it in the past – they do like the mounts of galleons that creating and selling portkeys earn them!"
Tilly Toke let out a dry laugh at that, and then continued buoyantly, "I had the good fortune of having a friend who worked in a Dragon Reserve in Ukraine, who I visited often. So that's where I spelled the stone portkey to go. Though, if I hadn't had that friend, I would've simply needed to think about an isolated place that I had been to before, to portkey the dragon there, so I wasn't that much worried."
He shot them a wide smile, as he added, "Still glamoured and with portkey in hand, I used the Levitation and Hover Charms again on myself, and floated quickly towards the dragon." The handsome teacher chuckled in amusement, as he revealed, "My aim wasn't that good, because I hadn't intended to stick the portkey up the poor dragon's nostril, but that's were it ended, with half of my arm stuck inside its nose, my hand still clutching the stone portkey. It activated a second later and off we went in a whirlwind of colors!"
Mr. Toke's hazel eyes sparkled with joy, as he went on, "We landed in my friend's reserve, and my, were the Dragon Keepers there shocked at the sight! The rogue dragon hadn't escaped from there, but from a reserve in Romania, I later learned! But they were quick to act and with spells only they know, they put the dragon to sleep, and after a night of partying and drinking with my friend, I made a portkey to England and returned safe and sound!"
The moment he ended his tale, the Hufflepuffs broke into loud cheers and applauses, while Harry blinked, a bit dazed. He hadn't quite understood the 'portkey' and 'pensieve' parts - what were they, exactly?- but given all that the man had said, he could form a vague idea of what they must do. And really, he was rather excited about being taught all the charms the teacher had mentioned!
Mr. Toke waved off his House's applause, smiling humbly, as he said gently, "Truly, there's no need, but I thank you. Nevertheless, the lesson of my story is that with a bit of creativity, a series of charms, and with no curses at all, I saved those muggles, I peacefully dealt with the dragon without harming it, and I had a very entertaining tale with which to amuse my friends!"
He chuckled as he swept them with his hazel gaze, before he added vehemently, "So you see, employing the imagination, Charms are very versatile, and they are not only spells to be used in your daily life just for trivial, simple things. Indeed, if you want to slip away from an enemy, you can turn yourself invisible with the Disillusionment Charm, if you're suddenly confronted with a Dementor, you drive it away with the Patronus Charm, if you want to swim underwater for a long period of time, you can use the Bubble-Head Charm, if you need to douse a dangerous fire, you cast an Aguamenti Charm, or you can make the fire harmless by using a Flame-Freezing Charm, if you want to conceal an important secret within a person, the Fidelius Charm is the best spell for it, if you want to posses superior senses, you cast a Supersensory Charm on yourself, if you want to protect the perimeter of a place, or a treasured object, and be alerted of unwanted intruders, you cast a Caterwauling Charm, with a Protego Charm you can form a magical shield against hexes and curses, and on, and on it goes!"
Seeing many of their nonplussed and baffled expressions -Harry being one of them, not having understood most of the terms the teacher had employed- Tilly Toke chuckled as he said kindly, "Fear not, you'll understand and learn all those charms and many more, during the next seven years."
He clapped his hands together, and then announced, "Now, we'll start with the first one – the ever useful Levitating Charm! With my story, you've seen one extraordinary situation in which in can be used, if you find yourself in the need of flying when you have no broomstick. I want you to imagine now, another situation in which you could use this charm to even save someone's life!"
The blonde Professor flicked his wand and a chair came skittering across the room, halting by the wizard's left side. Then the man's hazel gaze trailed over them, before he called out, "Miss Carrow, if you'll please come to the front for a little demonstration?"
The girl obliged, though she certainly didn't look happy about it. But she took the hand that Mr. Toke so gallantly offered, and with that aid, she climbed unto the chair, standing on the seat.
With another flick of Tilly Toke's wand and a muttered word, the chair suddenly grew many inches taller and Capricia Carrow paled. She shifted fretfully on her feet, clearly anxious about what the Professor was planning on doing, just like the rest of them were wondering.
"Now," the blonde wizard said, turning around to address them, "imagine that you're climbing down a staircase along with a friend, and suddenly, he trips and starts tumbling down! And you see that he's about to crash on the landing and break his neck – thus!"
Mr. Tilly Toke swirled around and shoved Capricia Carrow. With a shriek of horror and shock, she fell over the very high chair, whilst the Hufflepuffs gasped and Druella Rosier and Priscilla Pucey jumped to their feet, crying out and shouting.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" chirped Mr. Tilly Toke merrily with a swish and flick of his wand, just in the precise moment in which Capricia Carrow was about to smash, face forward, into the hard stone floors. "And thus you save your friend!"
With another flick of his wand, Capricia landed on her feet, her face colorless, having been scared out of her wits. In the next moment, her face contorted with sheer fury, as she bellowed at the man at the top of her lungs, "MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS, YOU DERANGED DINGBAT!"
Mr. Tilly Toke's body bent backwards from the waist, his long blonde hair swept back as well, as if a strong gust of wind had hit him from the front. He blinked at the girl utterly taken aback, then the wizard seemed to find the threat incredibly funny, and he chortled loudly, as he waved her off. "Ten points to Slytherin! You can return back to your seat, Miss Carrow – well done!"
Capricia did, nearly running, flopping herself between Druella Rosier and Priscilla Pucey, the girls instantly whispering amongst themselves, shooting the professor very dirty, angry looks.
"So that's the charm we'll be practicing today, and by the end of term I fully expect you to be able to levitate each other," said Mr. Toke cheerfully. "Usually, all Charms Professors teach this spell by making you practice on quills. But I find that so dreadfully boring! We might as well have some fun, don't you think?"
With the flick of his wand and some muttered spells, a series of items came rushing out a cabinet to then land on their tables, as the Professor explained, "Those paddle-like things with strings are called racquets, and the feathered projectile is the shuttlecock, or simply just 'the shuttle'. They are used in a very amusing muggle sport called Badminton. As you see, each one of you has a racquet and a shuttle. You'll start practicing the charm by making your shuttles float."
He shot them a beaming, wide smile, as he added joyfully, "And the first of you who by the end of the lesson can play a badminton match with me, by only using the Levitating Charm for the shuttle and the racquet, gets fifty points!"
Harry's eyes widened, with fascination for the man, his shocking but terribly thrilling teaching methods, and also just because he had enjoyed Capricia Carrow's terrified shrieks so much. He had known then, instantly, that Charms would not only be one of his most favorite classes, but also the most fun and amusing.
Perhaps because he enjoyed the lesson so much, or because he really wanted to try his hand at a game of Badminton, magically style, that he eagerly brandished his wand, flicked and swished it just like Tilly Toke had done, and pronounced the strange words just as he had heard them. He didn't even bothered opening his Charms textbook like the others were doing. He was brimming with too much excitement to do so.
So self-confident, determined and cheerfully he was, that it didn't surprise when his shuttle instantly flew up into air, gently floating.
"Very well done, Mr. Riddle!" cried out Tilly Toke happily as soon as he saw what Harry had done. "Ten points to Slytherin!" The blonde, handsome, and clearly a bit eccentric wizard, gazed at him eagerly. "Oh, do try the racquet now!"
It was indeed Harry who earned the fifty points, as he ended up being the very first one who also managed to successfully float and control his racquet and shuttle. Tom achieved it fifteen minutes after him, the only other student who successfully accomplished it, but by then Harry was excitedly playing a match of Badminton with Tilly Toke, both laughing and giggling like little children as they had the fun of their lives.
"You're a natural in Charms!" Professor Toke exclaimed as the lesson drew to an end and the students started packing their things into their schools bags. The wizard's hazel eyes were bright with joy and pride as he gazed at Harry. "It must be in your blood, Mr. Riddle!"
Harry ignored some of the Slytherins' scathing scoffs because they didn't know anything, clearly thinking that nothing was in his blood since they believed he was a muggleborn, and wondered at the teacher's words.
Was his father good at Charms, or had his mother been, perhaps? Secretly, he still held the notion that their mum could have been the magical one. Regardless, whichever the case was, he was suffused with a very warm, tingling feeling, and he left the classroom with his cheeks flushed with pleasure.
All of Professor Toke's lessons proved to be as shocking, thrilling, creative, utterly unorthodox, and fun, as the first, and Harry soon became the wizard's favorite pupil, just as Tilly Toke became Harry's favorite teacher, by far.
In those three of Harry's favorite classes, Tom didn't manage to beat him, he came in a close second place after Harry, though he earned plenty of points by always answering questions posed by the teachers, and he did it in such a way, that all professors were fond of and thought highly of him.
Tom didn't agitatedly raise his hand in the air and frantically waved it around, nor nearly jumped up to be seen and demanding to be acknowledged, like many Ravenclaws did. And he didn't answer questions verbatim, word for word, as if he had memorized full passages from textbooks and was merely spilling it all out. No, he thought about his answers, and explained his reply in his own words, with his own insights, and it became clear to all that he was the most brilliant student.
In their other classes, Tom was at the very top. Abraxas Malfoy and Felicity Prewett were very good at potions, but couldn't match Tom's perfection. And Harry soon saw that he was pants at it.
"You lack the subtleness, patience, and precision required in potions-making," Tom had hissed out at him one day, with much irritation and annoyance.
Harry couldn't argue against it, because just then he had dropped seven bat eyes instead of five, and hadn't stirred his potion once counter-clockwise, and it had bubbled dangerously, turning to an ugly, muddy color, and in the next second it burst out in flames. Only a scorched, brown, odiferous thing was left, which reminded Harry of the dung that had floated inside his trunk, that first morning, when they had been so nastily pranked.
Gratefully, after Slughorn had taken a shine to Tom, and unashamedly showed his favoritism, the professor usually paired them together, because Tom had made it no secret that that was what he wanted.
If not, the days in which Horace Slughorn fancied to mix Slytherins and Gryffindors together in pairs -for some unfathomable reason, given that it never ended well, though the teacher persisted, undaunted- Harry always ended up with Felicity Prewett, who was very good in Potions, and he much enjoyed his time with her.
It became clear to Harry that the walrus-like wizard knew of his friendship with the Prewett twins, surely having seen them around together. And it seemed that Slughorn so wanted to be in Tom's good graces, that he extended his good will to Harry as well, those circumstances.
One day, the short, pot-bellied wizard had looked at Harry as if seeing him in a brand, new light, which Harry ascribed to his suspicions – that Horace Slughorn had learned from Tilly Toke and Medea Merrythought that Harry was at the top in their classes. Maybe even Sylvanus Kettleburn had disclosed the same, though Harry didn't think Slughorn would care much about how well he was doing in Care of Magical Creatures. But, certainly, Slughorn started to treat him much better, all of a sudden.
Astronomy with the curly and purple haired Perpetua Fancourt, he enjoyed, because they climbed up to the very top of the Astronomy Tower at night, wrapped in thick, warm blankets, to placidly star-gaze through their telescopes, learning names of stars and constellations, the orbits and movements of planets, how to make astral calculations, and how to use those, learning that many magical rituals and brewing of potions were affected by the position of planets and could only be carried out in certain days with certain planetary alignments.
Nevertheless, Harry wasn't outstandingly good at it, but it didn't bother him.
Herbology, on the other hand, was simply horrible. Their teacher was Herbert Beery, a very eccentric, short, plump wizard, who kept a magical gramophone in the Greenhouses. If the man had put music to be played, Harry might have understood it, since perhaps such tunes helped the plants grow. However, the weird wizard always put recordings of wizarding plays, to full volume.
So whilst Harry struggled with screeching, butt-ugly plants that refused to be repotted, and with the Venomous Fanged Fly Trap that nearly took a chunk off his ear, or the Tentacula Viciosa which always tried to strangle him, he even had to suffer the languid woes of the light witch Desdemona who had fallen in love with the Moorish, dark sorcerer Othello, who was violent and crazed with jealously, and Desdemona would wail and melodramatically shriek and make choking noises as she was smothered to death by her husband, and Othello would cry out in tragic anguish, and moaned, and let out ear-splitting screams as he discovered his beloved's innocence and that Iago was the villain behind it all. By the time the class ended, and the dark sorcerer Othello gave his last woeful, wretched, histrionic lamentations as he plunged a sword in his chest, overly loud squishy noises sounding, apparently imitating the splatter of blood, Harry was the first to run away as far as possible from the Greenhouse and the gramophone within.
If Harry's eardrums weren't suffering Othello and Desdemona, then it was the sung play of Medea and Jason, and the like; all of them apparently true stories.
He wouldn't have minded if the hero Jason had a bigger part, as the actor sang joyfully about his adventures with the Argonauts in the quest to find the Golden Fleece. But that part, of the only actor who could actually act and sing well, was very brief, and Harry never found out the supposedly marvelous things Jason saw and did. Instead, he had to bear with the hero's wife, the dark witch Medea, daughter of Circe, revengeful and crazed, ranting furiously like a madwoman at the top of her lungs, in what was supposedly some tragic, angsty song but sounded more like a banshee's screeches, crying out as she killed their children when Jason abandoned her for the daughter of the King of Corinth. And then she went on to kill other people, to boot, cackling madly and spouting ridiculous sonnets, marrying others and having more children, and Harry only wished that someone had actually killed her at some point and spared him the torment. But apparently no one did, and the play concluded without actually saying what happened to the madwoman.
All other of Herbert Beery's records were very much the same, and the worse of it all was that the wizard sang alone with the records, in a high-pitched, utterly out of tune voice.
If their Herbology teacher liked that sort of thing, he might as well hire Moaning Myrtle and have her there, standing in the Greenhouse, sobbing, wailing and screeching, and it would have much the same effect.
To Harry's horror, he had overheard one of the students saying that the wizard had been trying to cajole Headmaster Dippet into allowing him to stage a play at Hogwarts. To Harry's ever lasting relief, he heard next that Herbert Beery had been unsuccessful so far - Harry might've smacked a smooch on Dippet's wrinkly, spotty forehead for that.
History of Magic was just as bad, but for another reason altogether. Harry had been very excited before their first lesson, with very high expectations after having skimmed through his textbook written by a historian, Bathilda Bagshot, who was apparently much lauded and renowned. Indeed, everything he had read so far, had utterly enthralled and fascinated him, and he couldn't wait to have a teacher explaining all of it all.
His hopes were cruelly dashed, however, when Cuthbert Binns entered the classroom. He was a small wizard, ancient and shriveled, as wrinkled as a prune. He didn't introduce himself nor glanced at them. No, he merely stood at the front, staring at some point in the wall, and then began.
The wizard droned on, in a deadpanned monotone. Such it was, that their heads began to bob and then hung down limply, their eyelids drooping, and soon soft snores could be heard around the classroom.
The teacher never noticed, or didn't care at all. And Harry was, much like the others, the unwilling victim of the man's tedious, dull tone.
Tom pinched him, hard, scowling at him, as he hissed out, "Don't fall asleep, you dunce! At least use the time to study from your textbook!"
Harry jerked up his head, groggily, and he did try to do like Tom and teach himself from the book during class-time, but it was asking too much of him. Not even the Ravenclaws managed to stay awake, and that was saying something. The only one who seemed to have the power to repel the evil influence of Binn's lulling monotone was Tom, the rest of them inevitably snoozed and drowsed as if under some enchantment.
During each and every lesson, the exact same thing happened, and not a word droned on by Binns actually registered in any of their minds.
In the end, they all ended up studying the subject in their own free time. There was no other solution.
And finally, Transfiguration wasn't either one of Harry's best subjects, but he fully blamed Dumbledore for that. Oh, the Head of Gryffindor House and the Deputy Headmaster was an excellent teacher, there was no denying. Dumbledore was patient with them all, and gentle, and thoroughly explained everything very clearly and always demonstrated as many times as needed. The wizard was even fair with all the Houses- unlike some of the teachers- never showing any favoritism. But that wasn't the problem.
"What are you doing?" bit out Tom sharply at him, one lesson when they had to transfigure a pincushion into a porcupine.
Harry blinked at his morphed pincushion. It looked like some ghastly aberration of nature, with three toothpicks sticking out –he didn't know how that had happened- tiny furred paws, a tadpole's tail, and with no eyes or face.
He groaned, and then whispered tartly, "I can't concentrate with Dumbledore always glancing at us, as if expecting that we'll suddenly grow horns or something!"
They both shot the professor a glance at that, to see that, indeed, Dumbledore was gazing at them from above the top of his half-moon spectacles. The man placidly smiled at them.
"You see!" whispered Harry crossly, shooting Tom a scowl. "He's always looking, always observing and watching, and when he catches me looking back, he bloody smiles like nothing's the matter. It gets on my nerves. You know that I don't feel comfortable around him!"
"I don't either," hissed out Tom, aggrieved and impatient, "and I'm sure I revile him more than you do, but I just ignore him and get on with my spellcasting. So should you. It's no excuse that the old geezer peers too much at you and makes you jittery!"
Harry glowered at him at the lack of sympathy, and but lesson, after lesson, it was of no use. He couldn't focus due to the many times he felt Dumbledore's heavy gaze on him, and Tom made matters worse by always hissing and angrily whispering at him, to such a point, that in the end it was only Tom who always successfully cast his spells in his very first attempt, earning many points – because his brother, of course, had perfect concentration, deliberation, envision, precision, which resulted in perfect transfiguration and whatnot.
Nevertheless, his brother always helped him though, since Tom had warningly promised that he would tutor him in all the classes that Harry didn't do well in.
In the end, Harry only needed did this for the subjects of Potions and Transfiguration, because they were the only ones he had trouble with, since he had no talent in the first and didn't learn anything in class in the second. And Tom didn't seem to care about Astronomy or Herbology, so he didn't offer Harry help with those, even though Tom was the most outstanding student in them, of course - quite effortlessly, even when the boy had much disinterest and indifference for the subjects.
However, having Tom 'tutoring' him only entailed that his brother would whisper to him and thus teach him during class-time, and then leave him books to read and even homework, because outside of class, Tom didn't have time to spend on him, always being in the library as he was.
So it hadn't changed things between them, nor had it dispelled Harry's dejected loneliness. Furthermore, matters with his housemates remained just as bad for a long time.
It was only by the end of the month that several things changed for him. Indeed, it happened the day they finally had their first Flying Lesson.
All the things that happened as a consequence of it would make him feel all sort of different things: joy and pleasure was caused by the decision of a girl; shock, amazement, worry, and puzzlement due to an incident which happened because of a new friendship with a boy; and finally, dread and fear for his and his brother's future, brought upon by what Tom revealed after Harry disclosed a new secret of his own.
That day would be one of the most impactful in Harry's life.