Chapter Three

*Beep* *Beep* Harry reached over, semi-conscious, and hit the Snooze button on his alarm clock. He checked the time, 8 am. He had class at nine. Ugh. Harry rolled slowly out of bed, not wanting to get up. He glanced over at Eric's side and noticed that he wasn't there. His bed was made, his side of the room perfectly tidy. Harry, sighed, grabbed a towel, and headed off to take a shower. By the time he got back in his room, Eric was there in a tank top and shorts. "Hey," Harry mumbled as he walked to his side of the room to get changed. "Hey there, sleepyhead," Eric said cheerily. "Where were you this morning?" Harry asked. "I went for a run, like I do every morning," Eric answered as he headed off to shower himself. Once he was dressed and cleaned up, Harry checked the clock and it was 8:45! Shit, Harry thought. No time for breakfast then. Oh well. He grabbed his backpack and headed out the door to his fist class.

Harry slid into a seat in the back of the room. He looked around; things didn't seem much different than they would be in a class back at Hogwarts. A girl with curly brown hair sat in front of him, partially blocking his view of the board. They weren't even in the class five seconds and the girl had already pulled out her syllabus (which apparently Harry needed to have), her day planner, notebook and THREE highlighters. Three! What in God's name could she need three damn highlighters for? Harry thought to himself, it's a friggin' Math class! Thankfully, Harry was saved from the absurdity of the curly haired girl by the professor walking in. He was a short man, balding and kind of fat. He reminded Harry a bit of Vernon, though he didn't smell nearly as badly. The professor strode to the front of the classroom and that's when Harry noticed that 'Dr. Chapeau' was written on the board. "Welcome everyone, to Math 215. I'm Dr. Chapeau, but you can call me anything you want."

A couple of Harry's classmates snickered. He was pretty sure that a few of them would come up with some pretty interesting ways to take advantage of that. Harry was staring absent-mindedly out the window while Dr. C (that's what he decided to call his professor, though admittedly it was tempting to call him Dickbreath or something) talked about the class and a little about himself, but he was pulled out of his thoughts when Dr. C said "Yes, you have a question?" Harry looked up to see none other than Curly Hair with her damned hand in the air! Class had been going for six minutes! What could she possibly have a question about?! "Uhm, yes. I was just curious if you knew about the new data that MENSA released regarding the Fibonacci sequence?" What? Harry thought. What does that even have to do with anything? Dr. C smiled and began to answer her not-question. That's exactly what it was, a not-question. If Curly Hair continued on like this for the rest of the semester, Harry was sure he'd go batshit. After the third time of Curly Hair raising her hand to ask a not-question, Harry was going crazy.

He reached in his backpack and pulled out his wand. He sat turning the wand slowly in his hands, admiring it. The 11 inch beauty was carved from holly wood and had a matching handle, with a phoenix feather core. Harry stared out the window, thinking fondly of Hogwarts and the man who had given him that feather, Dumbledore. Shortly, however, he was ripped out of his thoughts once again by Curly Hair and her damned raised hand. This is ridiculous! Harry thought. He began thinking of all the things he'd like to do to get her to shut the hell up. He was getting madder and madder at Curly Hair with every passing moment. Suddenly, a flash of blue shot from the tip of Harry's wand, and Curly Hair stood up with her left hand clutching her mouth. Harry looked down to see that her right arm was stitched to her side. When Curly Hair moved her hand briefly from her mouth, the class gasped, for where her mouth would be, instead was a zipper held closed with a padlock. Harry quickly threw his wand back into his backpack and zipped it up. Dr. C was escorting a very alarmed Curly Hair out of the room. The whole room was full of people asking the same question: How? Harry glanced around and was relieved to see that no one was looking at him. He picked up his bag and snuck out of the room. Once he was out, Harry walked down the hall and took a left into the first restroom he saw. Harry pulled out his wand and examined it. He hadn't even meant to cast a spell on Curly Hair. Harry took a few minutes to calm down and resolved that he'd just have to be more careful. Besides, Harry thought, no one saw my wand or the blue light. I'm home free. Or so he thought.

Harry had never been slammed against a concrete wall, but he didn't have to have the experience to know that it wasn't going to feel good. And it didn't. The cold brick tingled against his back where his shirt had raised up a bit. Being shoved into a locker doesn't allow much time for keeping fashion in mind, after all. Harry was soon face to face with the boy who had pushed him into the wall in question. A tall, muscular boy a year or two older than Harry, he had a military-style haircut and his breath smelled of cigarettes. His hot breath hit Harry's face as he spoke. "Listen, dipshit. I saw what happened today in class. You did something to Ella. (Ah, Harry thought, that's Curly Hair's name) Nobody knows what's going to happen to her, or if she'll even come back. She was mine! I was so close to getting with her, and you had to go and fuck all that up." Harry really wanted to reach up and wipe the fog off that had accumulated on his glasses, but his arms were pinned to his sides. "I don't know what you did to her, with your blue light and whatever else, but I'm gonna find out. And when I do, you're gonna pay." "Hey, Alec!" someone called from down the hall. The boy – Alec – turned to see who was calling him, and Harry saw his opportunity.

He had just enough leeway to wiggle his right arm free and land a punch straight into Alec's jaw. Alec was sent flying backwards into the wall on the other side of the hall. Harry fell to the floor, but got up quickly, arms up to protect his face. Alec was bleeding a little from the corner of his mouth. He wiped at the blood with the back of his hand and charged at Harry. Harry took a fist straight to the gut and got the wind knocked out of him. His glasses fell to the floor and broke. Great, Harry thought. Now I have to fix those again. Harry brought up his right knee into Alec's chest which sent him into a coughing fit. Harry used that moment to get his back away from the wall and get behind his opponent. Alec turned and charged head-first at Harry, but he moved at the last second and Alec slammed his head into the wall on the other side of the hall, knocking himself out. Harry didn't wait around to see if he'd wake up. He picked up his backpack and his broken glasses and walked down the hall. "That went better than I thought," Harry thought aloud. "And I didn't even have to use magic." This time.

Harry threw his backpack down on his bed and sat in his desk chair, sighing. It had been a damn long day. He took off his shirt to assess the damages from his 'meeting' with Alec earlier and heard Eric gasp from the doorway. Crap. Eric rushed over and looked at the softball-sized bruise on Harry's stomach. "Oh my gosh, what happened?" Eric asked. He looked like he was the one that just took a head to the gut. "It's nothing," Harry said, pretending that it didn't hurt like hell. "Just got a little too rough in gym today." Harry pulled his shirt back on and leaned back in his chair to prove that it didn't hurt. He nearly screamed in pain, but it fooled Eric enough. "Gym can be a little rough. Just be careful. The Lord heals all, and He will deliver." Eric smiled at Harry and went back to his side of the room. He will deliver, Harry thought, picking up his bag and heading out the door to get some food. And if he doesn't, I sure as hell will.

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Eridium Blight