Disclaimer 1: This is fanfic. That means I do not own any of it. I just borrow it to play with for a little while and let people see the pathetic results if they really want to.

Disclaimer 2: I'm not making any money from it. It's just for fun.

Disclaimer 3: What isn't borrowed is all made up. None of this is real or most likely at all realistic. Please don't trust any of the information in here. Most likely you know more about whatever I'm writing about than I do.

Disclaimer 4: Attitudes, views and opinions expressed by the characters or in the story are not necessarily those of the author. Even when writing Science Fiction or Fantasy I do not tend to attempt to create perfect/better worlds in which everybody gets a happy end ... or whatever is best for them. Please accept that some characters will have a bad ending or be unhappy.

Disclaimer 5: I intend no insult to anyone. If I offend anyone I'm very sorry. Please understand that it was an accident as I tend to be very clumsy in these things.

Notes: Harry didn't see Hagrid get the Philosopher's stone from Gringotts, so it's high time to introduce it.

Harry No. 5 and the Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 8: The Potions Master

Impressive as the castle was it was also very difficult to find one's way through. Harry and the other first years kept getting lost and being late for their classes.

One day when Harry and Ron had been sure they were trying to enter their Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, the caretaker Mr Filch suddenly swooped down on them saying that they'd been caught trying to enter a forbidden corridor and making horrible threats. Harry was shaking all over from fear when luckily Professor Quirrel, the teacher with the turban, arrived and rescued them.

"Didn't you know, though? Professor Dumbledore warned everybody at the feast," he told them kindly. "This place is very dangerous, and my classroom wouldn't be locked during a lesson."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"The headmaster," Ron recognised the name and nodded. "He said so much, though. And we were so sure it was the classroom."

"We got lost," Harry said.

It was all too complicated. Unlike in the primary institute every subject was taught in a different classroom and by a different teacher and the classrooms weren't all next to each other either.

One teacher, Professor Binns, was a ghost, but unfortunately that was the most interesting thing about both him and his subject History of Magic. Hermione was the only one who managed to stay properly attentive and productive during his lessons. The best Harry could do was not to fall asleep.

The little man who had promised to teach them how to make suitcases fly into luggage compartments was Professor Flittwick. Harry liked him a lot, but so far all they had learned from him were the names of different wand movements.

Professor McGonagall was the head of house Gryffindor, which from what Hermione had told them meant that she took over the duties of head nurse for their dorm. She taught Transfigurations, where she had shown them that she could turn her desk into a pig. This had however been no help at all when Harry had been supposed to turn a matchstick into a needle. Magic was very difficult.

And then of course there was Professor Quirrel's subject, which was a lot less exciting than it sounded. They mostly read the textbooks that Quirrel had handed out and tried to ignore the strong garlic smell that came off his turban.

"Th... th... that wards off v... v... vampires," Quirrel had explained.

According to Professor McGonagall there were no vampires anywhere near Hogwarts, though, and she had confiscated all the garlic some older Gryffindors had brought back after raiding the kitchens.

Friday morning Harry's owl, whom he'd named Hedwig after a witch in the History of Magic textbook, flew into the great hall at breakfast and brought Harry a postcard and a small roll of parchment.

"Thank you, Hedwig," Harry said politely and turned over the postcard first.

'Hi Harry!
Smeltings Institute is very nice. It is a eally old school from back when children lived with their parents during the summer!
Hope Hogwarts Institute is nice, too.
And hope you are well!
Your Dudley number ONE! and Pierce number 3'

"That's nice," Harry said.

"What is?" Ron asked.

"Dudley and Pierce like it at their secondary institute. And Dudley is number one. He always wanted to be."

"I don't care," Ron stated. "I don't know them. What's the other letter?"

"You guys from the Magical Primary Institute are really rude, you know," Hermione complained.

It was true. Draco had even told them that he wasn't their friend anymore, because he was a Slytherin and they were Gryffindors.

"Slytherin and Gryffindor are enemies," he'd said. "It's tradition."

"It's from Hagrid," Harry discovered. "He says I should come to tea today."

"That's nice," Hermione said. "He wants to check up on how you're doing."

Ron frowned. "I'm going too."

"You can't!" Hermione protested. "You're not invited!"

"I don't care. Harry is my best friend. Not Hagrid's. Not that Dudley's. Mine."

Harry hoped Hagrid wouldn't be too angry.

First however they had to go to the dungeons for two hours of Potions with the Slytherins.

The Potions teacher was the one all in black that Quirrel had been talking with at the welcoming feast. His name was Professor Snape and he was the head of Slytherin house.

And he was also very scary and demanding Harry soon learned. For some reason he seemed to hate Harry and blamed him for everything anyone in the class did wrong. But he kept calling him James!

"I'm Harry," Harry kept telling him. "Harry number 5."

And then Professor Snape would repeat whatever he'd just said and say Harry this time, but the next time he spoke to him he'd say James again.

Professor Dumbledore came in just as the class was leaving and Harry heard him ask Professor Snape: "So what do you think of him?" in a casual tone.

"The boy is an idiot, Albus."

Harry was shocked. No teacher at the primary institute would ever have used such a bad word and definitely never to describe a student. Whoever they were talking about surely didn't deserve to be called that.

"It's hospitalism, Severus," the headmaster said in a very sad tone. "This institutional upbringing just isn't doing the children any good."

What nonsense! And that from a headmaster!

Hagrid luckily didn't seem angry about Ron coming along at all. He said it was good to see that Harry was already making new friends and gave them tea and rock cakes which, unfortunately, were much too hard to eat.

Another unfortunate thing was that Hagrid had a large dog that scared both boys. Neither of their primary institutes had allowed dogs, so even Ron who had some experience with cats, owls and toads had never met one before.

"Dogs are completely harmless, really," Hagrid assured them. "Especially Fang. He's a big coward to be honest. Now Fluffy, Fluffy can get a little angry at times, but then you just play him some music and he'll go straight to sleep."

"Fluffy?" Ron asked nervously and glanced around the tiny one room hut as if he expected to suddenly find a second huge dog in some corner.

"Fluffy's my three-headed dog," Hagrid said proudly. "I got him as a puppy from some Greek fellow."

"Three heads!" Harry yelped.

That was one to bite each of them!

"Yes, but no need to worry. Fluffy's not here. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the stone," Hagrid assured them.

"What stone?" Harry was confused. Stones didn't run away after all, so why would they need guarding?

"The one I got from Gringotts, and just in time, too. Someone broke into the bank and tried to steal it just a few hours after I got it away. So now it's here. Much safer this way. But don't you dare mention it! Nobody must know or the thief might overhear them talking and find out where it went. So ..." He put his finger to his lips and both boys nodded wide-eyed and eagerly.

It was quite exciting to have a secret, so of course the first thing they did when they returned to Gryffindor tower was to tell Hermione.