Chapter 4: Hogwarts
"Honestly Ron! Do you have constant urge to stuff yourself with anything edible you see? Show some restraint!" Ginny exclaimed, eyeing her brother's gluttony with disgust.
Ron paused in his "feast" for a moment and looked at his sister's face. She raised her brow at him expectantly. He merely shrugged in return, before redirecting his attention to something more worthwhile…like that Cauldron Cake sitting on the table.
Before she could once again remark on her brother's appetite, the compartment door slid open loudly. She focused her gaze on the newcomer. He was wearing the school robes in the yellow and black motif signifying he was part of the Hufflepuff House. That in itself was normal, had it not been for the fact that he wearing gloves on both hands, an oddity for a student.
Her observations were interrupted by the boy. "Red hair, freckles and from the Gryffindor House," he noted casually, "you must be Ginevra and Ronald Weasley then." He stated, sighing loudly as he did. "Better company than Malfoy and his cronies, I suppose." He said to no one in particular, taking a seat beside Ron.
"You have us at a disadvantage. You know our names, but we don't know yours." Ginny replied coolly, hostile to the fact that he had just used her real name instead of the much more preferred nickname. "And call me Ginny, not Ginevra."
The stranger looked at her. "I sense a lot of hostility from you, Ginevra."
She glared at him fiercely. "You just compared us to Malfoy and you came in uninvited. That's not exactly the best first impression you can give. And you have a habit of ignoring my instructions."
He sighed again. "My, my, the famous Weasley temper. I wouldn't dare to ignore you're instructions, Ginevra. And since you're dying to know, I" he drawled out emphatically, "Am Harry Potter."
She raised a brow at that. "Potter?" She turned to her brother to confer. "I thought Anna Potter was the only Potter attending Hogwarts. I've never heard her mention a brother coming here as well."
Ron swallowed whatever food was in his mouth before answering. "That's what I thought too. Maybe he's a cousin of theirs?"
Harry seemed amused that the two siblings decided to talk as if he wasn't in the same compartment as they were. "I'm not a cousin. I'm her brother. I was homeschooled last year so that's probably why you don't know who I am."
"Why were you home schooled?" Ginny asked.
"I was too sick to come to Hogwarts. It had something to do with being a temporary invalid." Harry said. "Tell me, have either of you seen...what was his name again? Oh right, the Longbottom fellow."
"The Longbottom fellow? You mean Neville Longbottom?" Seeing Harry's nod of confirmation, he continued. "He should be coming around soon. He usually joins us although…" He trailed off, glancing around nervously.
"Although what?" Harry asked curiously. He glanced from one Weasley to the other, determining who would be the first to tell him.
"Neville hasn't been well lately. He's taken a beating from the press after what happened last year." Ron explained hesitantly, taking for granted that Harry would know what he was talking about.
"What happened last year? I was isolated from the world remember?"
"Professor Lockhart saved us from Slytherin's monster. Unfortunately, Neville got hit by a stray curse. He hasn't been right in the head for some reason. He has a hard time remembering what really happened, gets caught up in trances, claimed to have strange nightmares." Ron answered further.
It was then that Harry realized why Ginny's eyes were downcast. Why she refused to speak on the matter. She had been there. It sounds like Lockhart's been practicing with his memory charms. Harry thought angrily.
The door slid open loudly again. This time, everyone in the compartment could recognize the newcomer. "Ron, Ginny," He greeted, nodding to them once. He turned his attention to Harry, extending his hand to him. "I'm Neville Longbottom, boy-who-lived, boy-who-lies, boy-who's-mental, really depends on who you're talking to." He said with a hint of bitter undertone.
Harry shook his hand firmly. "I'm Harry Potter, boy-who-recently-came-out-of-a-hospital-for-some-deadly-disease-or-what-not. Of course, if you speak to my Healer, she will ask you to refer to me as 'annoying-brat-who-I-wish-I-didn't-save'." He replied, grinning cheekily. "It really depends on who you're talking to."
At that, Neville smiled a little. "You're a different sort, Harry." He looked at Harry more closely, trying to decide on something. Finally, he spoke up again. "I think I like you already."
Harry raised a brow at that and couldn't help himself from delivering one last quip. "Thanks, but I'm not gay."
Neville spluttered incoherently, Ron looked at them with eyes wide open, and Ginny looked shocked. After a moment to recompose, Neville replied. "Alright, I fell into that one with my last comment. For the record though, I am not gay."
Ron eyed Neville uncertainly and Harry was being…Harry. "If you say so…"
"I'm not!" Neville exclaimed hotly.
"Sure you're not…"
"I'm being honest, I swear! I like girls! Ask Ron!" Neville looked to his friend for support and found none.
"How would Ron know?" Harry asked, raising his brow suspiciously at them. "Have you been…experimenting?"
Neville was back to his spluttering, while Ron had a look of horror on his face, trying to get as much space between him and Neville. "You know, Neville, denial is the first stage of acceptance. I suppose you'll try bargaining with God, depression, or anger next. Don't worry though. It'll be alright in the end." Harry said it with such a straight face, Kirstin Stewart would be proud.
Ginny burst out laughing, unable to contain her mirth. Moments later, Harry joined her. And it was then that Ron and Neville realized that they'd been had. Neville, despite being the butt end of his jokes, managed to chuckle still. "I'll admit a good prank when I see one. Don't think I won't get you back though." He threatened lightheartedly, taking a seat besides Ginny after minutes of standing.
Like Ginny, Neville noticed Harry's gloves. "What are those for?" He asked, pointing at them.
Harry didn't bother with a reply, and instead turned to Ginny. "Hey Ginevra-" Before he could finish, a stream of light was sent his way courtesy of said redhead. Smirking in triumph, Harry raised his glove, the palm of which revealed a rune chain in the pattern of a circle. It suddenly glowed into life, stopping the spell in midair then dissipating its energy. His companions were all looking at him agape. "I believe that actions speak louder than words." He explained lamely, shrugging.
"You just stopped that spell in flight and caused it to disappear! How did you do that?" Ron shouted.
"I used magic. Surely you'd know a thing or two about it since you study in a magical school after all." Harry drawled sarcastically. "And I didn't cause it to disappear. I merely absorbed the energy into my gloves."
"But making something like that is way above our level. How'd you manage?"
"When you're home schooled by your mother who just happens to not only be a hard taskmaster, but a candidate for Mastery in both Runes and Charms, making something like this isn't much of a feat." He said. "And since she helped me with most of this, it seems unfair for you to give me all the credit." He flexed his hand experimentally, and the lights of his glove faded. Okay, so that wasn't completely true, but his mum did do most of the Arithmancy calculations he needed to create the rune chain for this project.
"Why would you need something like that?" Ron inquired, staring at the glove in amazement.
Harry sighed. "What do you guys know about Reaper's Mark?"
"I know it's a deadly disease which sucks out your energy." Neville answered.
"Yes, well, until recently, I've been afflicted by it. As a result, my magical core is below average in strength. I could possibly train it back up to average strength, but that may very well take years before I am as fit as I was before. In terms of pure magical strength, I'd likely lose to my opponent." Harry breathed heavily, raising his glove to eye level. "To compensate, I have to…improvise. If I can't defend myself the conventional way, might as well be unconventional about things."
Neville nodded. "Play to your strengths."
Harry looked at him sharply, surprised he'd understand. "Exactly."
"I know everyone's expecting me to be really good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, but the truth is I'm rubbish." Neville confessed. "My passion in Herbology, not spell craft."
Harry snorted. "Screw what the others think Neville. Be what you want to be. If you live your life based on what others want, you're not living at all." He paused. "Besides, do you know how many ways you could kill someone using plants?"
September 1, 1993, Start-of-Term Feast...
Harry watched the Sorting with disinterest from the Hufflepuff Table. Having only been in school for a month before getting shipped off to St. Mungo's really didn't help him in making any friends. The fact that he been gone for close to two school years compounded the problem. There were some familiar faces though, that much he could recall from his old life. Out of "deference" to the Sorting Ceremony though, Harry chose not to strike up a conversation, and reluctantly shifted his eyes to the tedious task of Sorting.
After what seemed like forever, the sorting finished, and Dumbledore stood to make his big speech. "Before we begin our feast, I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Some of you are new, and as such, we will begin with some rules and regulations. First off, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason. I wouldn't venture in there, if I were you, for fear of death. Secondly, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, wishes to remind you all that all products of Zonko's are contraband. For a full list of banned items, please visit his office." Dumbledore paused, as if pondering what to say next. "As some of you may have noticed, we have a new student with us, Mr. Harry Potter. Due to certain circumstances he had to be home schooled. However, circumstances have passed, and after much testing and deliberation, he has been deemed fit to join the Third Years. I wish for you all to give him a warm welcome.
"Lastly, as some of you may have heard, next year, our school will be playing host to the Triwizard Tournament." Excited whispering broke out from the crowd. "In line with this, the Ministry has decided to hold the Preliminary Qualifier. Throughout this year, we will have many challenges for you to join in order to increase your chances for success and survival. Also, a Duelling Club is being set up. Those of you interested in joining next year should give serious thought in joining these activities. Even if you don't wish to join, participate anyway. This kind of training is dead useful." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "This will be welcome to all levels, in accordance with the Ministry's proclamation." He said somewhat distastefully. "The first challenge will be a Duelling Tournament. The winner of such will be declared as the Hogwarts Duelling Champion and an award of two hundred galleons. In addition, the top three duellists shall also be permitted to join the National Duelling Tournament, Junior Division."
"Now, before we begin our feast, a few words." He cleared his throat rather dramatically. With a twinkle in his eye, he continued. "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
The empty platters on the table were filled to the brim magically. Foods of all sorts appeared, enticing the hungry students to feast. Harry merely watched them eat, ignoring the food in front of him. Finally, a student beside him noticed his odd behaviour, and decided to question him. "Harry...err...is there a reason why you're not eating?" A boy, from the sounds of it, asked.
Harry redirected his eyes so he could see the boy. "Hmm, you must be Cedric Diggory, sixth year Hufflepuff, male prefect." Harry stated, eyeing the gleaming prefect badge pinned on his chest.
Cedric's eye widened in surprise. "How did you know?"
Harry smiled at him. "Magic." He answered cryptically. "And to answer your previous question, I'm not feeling very hungry at the moment, so what better way to spend my time than watching others?"
"That's...creepy."Cedric stated bluntly."Anyway, I want to welcome you to Hufflepuff...again."
Harry nodded, barely listening to him. he was far too busy mulling over a question that had been bothering him ever since he got into this house. Finally, he spoke up. "Excuse me, is there anyone here I was friends with back during First Year?" He asked loudly.
Everyone at the table glanced at him in uncertainty. Finally, someone nearby spoke up. "I wasn't friends with you per se, but we talked regularly. Does that count?" Harry turned to the source. He recognized her as Hannah Abbot.
"I have a question for you, Hannah." Harry could see she looked surprised he remembered her. "I'm not all too certain, but I've been told that I was a slacker before I got a mild case of amnesia. If that were so, how'd I manage to get into Hufflepuff? Aren't we supposed to be hard working or something?"
She looked thoughtful for a while before answering. She tensed up a little as she noticed the entire table was waiting for her answer. "You were very...impartial about things, and you were very honest about the opinions you proclaimed. Both traits of Hufflepuff. So while true you were a lazy bum, you also happened to be a very good arbiter." She said honestly.
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Hannah. I appreciate this." Harry answered meaningfully, staring at her with his striking emerald eyes.
She blushed, and mumbled something that sounded like "Happy to help" before turning her attention back to her food. Without another word, Harry eyed some pie, before helping himself to a slice. The table immediately went back to eating, the conversation forgot. Cedric, however, didn't resume eating. "How did you do that?" Cedric asked incredulously.
"Did what?" Harry asked, not bothering to face him as they talked.
"Just manage to hold everyone's attention in an instant. It was like everyone was in a trance or something!" He exclaimed silently. "Plus, I think someone has a crush on you." He added, grinning.
Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The answer to your first question is simple. When important people speak, others listen. And no, she does not have a crush on me." Harry answered. "Are girls all you think about?"
"You think you're important?" Cedric asked, scoffing. "And I think of plenty of things aside from girls. But when you get to my age, you'll start having a healthy interest for them as well, I reckon."
"Of course not, don't be silly." Harry answered. "Other people think that way, doesn't mean I am."
"Okay, why would others think of you as important?" He asked, positively confused.
"Its because of the manner I conduct myself with." Harry said, as if explaining to a child. "I act with confidence. I speak with confidence. I show disinterest in others, and as a result, it seems to stimulate the inferiority complex in people. They are lowering their self-worth, and thereby thinking mine has increased."
Cedric looked at him with interest, before shaking his head. "I'm surprised you're so well-versed in such pureblood etiquette. Not to mention, very good at it."
"I am the heir of the Potters. I have to be good at this stuff."
"You sound more like a Slytherin than a Hufflepuff."
"That is so prejudiced. And better a snake than a marshmallow." Harry retorted.
"Stop calling our house a marshmallow." Cedric snapped. Harry simply smirked, as if he had won a game against this friend.
"You're also Quidditch Captain right?"
"Yeah, you want to try out?"
Harry nodded. "I want to see if I can pull off being Chaser. I played a few games over summer, and I seemed pretty good."
Cedric frowned at him. "You seemed pretty good? You don't sound so sure of yourself."
"Doesn't seem that useful if I get cocky. Might as well call it as it is."
"And you say you've only played a few game. what makes you think you can beat the average run-of-the-mill Chaser aspirants we have running around?"
"Do you know who won Chaser of the Year from 1975 to 1978? He has a special award in the Trophy room for that."
"1975 to 1978? That would be..." Cedric stopped cold, eyes widening in realization.
Harry nodded in satisfaction. "That's right. My father, James Potter. And I might or might not have picked up a few tricks from my dad." Harry finished.
AN: How much begging must I do to get reviews?