I do not own Harry Potter, the Lord of the Rings, Youtube, or a working car.

Chapter 8: Life at a Wizarding Boarding School

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the slacker with red hair."

"Glasses?"

"Yeah. Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. A few girls had even squeezed his bottom. Harry wished they wouldn't, his butt would be too sore to sit on by the end of the day.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked them politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls pretending. Why just the other day, he had tried to open a door, only for it to swear at him. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. He had occasional seen one that was flipping the bird to passers-by, and that was all the proof he needed.

And then, once you managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight with Professor Lovecraft and learn the names of different stars and learn the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to study Herbology, and Hagrid created some new and exciting mini-disaster each class, and they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

They also had to go to the History of Magic class led also by Professor Lovecraft. It was pretty dull. The only thing that saved it from being a complete bore was the way that Professor Lovecraft described what had happened, such as how the battle of the Danube had gone, or the duel between Merlin and Morgan le Fey, almost as though he had been there.

Professor McGonagall was quite different from the other teachers. Harry quickly realized that she was not a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said in her thick Scottish accent, "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed the desk into a bust of William Shakespeare and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into statuary for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a pin and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her pin. Professor McGonagall showed the class how the pin had a small eye near the bottom and gave Hermione a rare smile, apparently not noticing the rude gesture Ron made under his desk in Hermione's direction.

The class everyone- well, the boys at least- had been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. Harry knew this wasn't true. He had once spotted a label on it reading Overlook Hotel.

Harry was relieved to find out that he wasn't kilometers behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for the boys of Gryffindor house. They finally managed to get down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Seamus as he poured sugar on his porridge. Dudley would have punched him if he saw Harry put any condiment on his food, let alone sugar. Back in the Dursley household, Harry had never been allowed anything that might improve his mood.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Seamus. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. No surprise there. They say he always favors them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropped letters and packages into their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought him anything so far, and he had begun to think he'd gotten a defective owl. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a pair of letters on Harry's plate. Harry tore open the first one, which was sealed in a brown envelope. The parchment inside smelled of whiskey and stale urine and covered with a scrawl that sloped off on the end, it said:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you and a couple of your friends like to come and have a cup of tea around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

Harry borrowed Dean's quill and scribbled Yes, please, see you lateron the back of the note, and resealed it in the envelope. Then he opened the other letter which was in a standard envelope with all the correct information and postage on it. It was addressed to Harry Potter, at the stinking wizard school. Harry sighed, and opened the envelope. Within was a sheet of white stationery covered in neat, impersonal typed lines of text:

To boy,

You know that we've never loved you and have, for the longest time, wished to see the back of you. We cannot help but be happy that you have decided to go to a school with no tuition fees. On the other hand, we have no desire for the use of you know what in our house. Therefore, we hope that you will choose to stay at the school over Christmas, so that our house may remain holy during that most sacred of holidays. Do not expect any gifts or cards bearing well wishes.

Good Day

Harry smirked and scrawled over the print in an untidy hand:

Dear Uncle,

I am happy to hear that Dudley's gotten even fatter. It really suits his personality. I can't say that I want to return until I have to. I will be sure to extend the same courtesy to you over the holidays, and I will remain here as long as I can. I'll be sure to send you a picture of "the back of me" since you all seem so intent to see it, with my next letter, and when I do come back, I will be sure to use MAGIC only at my discretion.

Harry Potter, Esq.

Harry smirked again, replaced the letter in its envelope, wrote return to sender upon it and gave both letters to Hedwig. Just then, a large parcel fell on the table in front of Dean, knocking over the kettle of Plasma Tea in the middle of the table, which spilled on Neville's lap, causing him to cry out in pain and stand up clutching at his steaming, blood-spattered groin. Harry and all the rest of the students and teachers burst into laughter as Neville sprinted from the hall at high speed with all the agility of a marathon runner.

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him at the school so far.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. Why the school needed dungeons, Harry didn't want to think about. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. The only good part of this, was that the Slytherins looked just as uncomfortable with the decorations. At least, he hoped they were only decorations.

Snape started the class by taking role call and paused when he reached Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said, his voice loaded with sarcasm, "Harry Potter. As if we didn't already have enough problems with Lovecraft. We need yet another celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends snickered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of a cup of Caribou Coffee which has been sitting on the table for an hour, and has gotten cold, but you don't want to drink because then you'd have to buy another to keep using the free Wi-Fi, just like you're probably doing now.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began. He spoke in barely a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping the class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…. I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of bloody idiots as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Seamus exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a bloody idiot.

"Potter!" exclaimed Snape suddenly, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Add powdered a****** to an infusion of d*** wood? Harry glanced at Hermione, who was staring. Then he realized that he had said it aloud. Snape stared, too.

Snape sneered and then pushed on, "Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"

"I don't know sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry fought with all his might to hold back a retort. He had looked through his books at the Leaky Cauldron, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

Snape ignored Hermione's raised hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolf's bane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry coldly. "Do you?"

A few people laughed. Those that didn't go pale, anyway. Snape was most certainly not pleased.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor for idiocy!" He turned to Malfoy, who had been slouching moments before, but now sat with great rigidity. "You, Malfoy! Fifty points to Slytherin for good posture!"

"Thank you, sir," Malfoy said, shocked.

"Twenty points to Slytherin for politeness," Snape added, making all the Gryffindors' jaws drop.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape ordered them to pair with students of the other house and set them to mixing a simple potion to cure boils. Harry found himself paired with the striking Blaise. Ron was paired with Draco Malfoy. Seamus found himself with one of Malfoy's cronies, and Dean was paired with the other. Hermione Granger became partner to Pansy Parkinson. Neville was left by himself, probably because Snape figured that he could screw up on his own, without a Slytherin offering him false instructions or sabotaging his cauldron, and he was right. Neville screwed up worse than anyone else within five minutes. Neville spilled his concoction all down his front, which then gave him boils, for some reason.

Ron's cauldron exploded a few minutes later. Hermione somehow wound up in Pansy's cauldron, up to her mini-skirt in bubbling green muck. Seamus and Dean managed to trick Crabbe and Goyle into sabotaging each other's cauldrons, and reached the end of the class safely, if with a potion a few steps short of completion. Aside from his apparent lack of motivation to do anything to help him, Blaise didn't cause any trouble for Harry, and they had both produced a completed potion by the time the bell rang.

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon, Harry and Dean supporting Neville, Harry felt that the class could have gone better. Why did Snape hate him so much?

"Cheer up," Dean said as they hauled Neville up the next flight of stairs, "Snape's always taking points off Gryffindors, or least that's what I heard from the older students."

"You mean like Ron?"

"Specifically Ron."

Harry and Dean shrugged Neville off onto a bench.

"Well, it's about time for me to go down to see Hagrid for tea," said Harry, checking his watch.

"Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?" asked Dean.

"I don't see why not. The more the merrier."

At ten to three Harry, Dean, and Seamus (whom Harry had previously invited to come along) left the castle and made their way through the maze of frivolous shrubbery that impeded the path to Hagrid's hut, like they were on some kind of platforming game. Hagrid's hut was somewhat small and shabby, but almost certainly better than wherever Ron lived. A pair of wellington boots and a crossbow were just outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice called out, saying, "Back, Fang – back." There was a loud ripping noise followed by, "D*****, Fang, that's my leg!"

Hagrid's face appeared in the crack as they pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said, "Back, Fang."

He let them in, his face a dark red of extreme intoxication, while at the same time struggling to unclamp the jaws of an enormous black boarhound from his trouserleg. The rest of the visit proceeded in a fairly normal manner. When Hagrid stood up to put the kettle back over the fire, Harry noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet which was half-hidden beneath a tea cozy. Harry glanced at the front page.

Gringotts Break-In Latest

There was a robbery on the 31st of July in which vault number seven hundred and something-or-other was broken into, but as the vault had been emptied previously on the same day, the culprit was flipped one humongous bird.

Harry checked his horoscope next.

Leo

You will be presented with an obvious clue, but not immediately recognize it.

Harry grimaced and resigned himself to the fact that even authentically magical horoscopes were scams.

As the three Gryffindors walked back to the castle, Harry puzzled over the bizarre coincidence that the day he and Hagrid had gone to Gringotts, there had been a break-in. Harry put his hands in his pockets, then grimaced as they came into contact with the sticky Tortoise Clots he had been too polite to refuse. If there was one thing he missed about the muggle world, it was the confectionery.

Next time on HPMF:

Harry: We're going out tonight!

Ron: On a date? Found some hot girls?

Harry: Sorry, that's not what I meant.

Draco: You're going down, Potter!

Harry: In your dreams!

Ron: If I sold tickets for this I'd make a fortune!