The next morning found Harry up with the sun as usual. He was surprised when he found that, instead of a cot, he was sleeping on a big, comfortable bed.
Then he remembered about Hogwarts and his face split into a broad grin. He jumped out of bed and left the room in search of a shower.
By the time he got back, the Italicized One had risen, but no one else.
"Mornin…" he mumbled with a yawn, hair all mussed up and looking as though he'd like nothing better than to drop back into bed. "Why're you up so bloody early?"
"I always wake up at this time," Harry answered cheerfully. Draco, who had become Draco-without-italics when Harry saw his footsie pajamas with the words, "Tutshill Tornadoes" all over them, winced at his perky voice and stumbled off to the loo.
Harry grinned and left the dorm room, deciding to try and find the library before breakfast.
It seemed he wasn't the only one interested in finding out about Hogwarts. He'd had a bit of an argument with a Gryffindor girl over a copy of Hogwarts, a History. To be honest, the only reason he'd known she was in Gryffindor was by the color of her tie, and he tried to explain this to her as a reason why she should immediately relinquish her death grip on the only copy on the shelf.
She wasn't sympathetic, not even when he explained the apparent lunacy of most of the school. She'd just given him an odd look and tugged harder, and he was tilting precariously on the brink of classifying her as one of the insane. He would have too, if he wasn't fighting just as fiercely for the same book.
Eventually, they came to a truce. Neither of them would check it out from the library, and they would hide it so no one else could either. Then they could both use it, and if they needed it at the same time, they would share it.
Harry thought this a very reasonable truce. The girl, whose name turned out to be Hermione, had given him another odd look when he'd explained it to her, but went along with it for the sake of the reading. Then they realised breakfast was already half over, and rushed off to find the Great Hall.
When they found it, they rushed in together, nodding at each other before setting off to their respective tables. Harry dropped into his seat next to Draco and across from Blaise, and began loading up his plate. He only looked up when he realised he was being stared at again.
"What?" he asked curiously, poking at the pancakes thoughtfully before dishing himself up some eggs instead.
"Where were you before breakfast?" Blaise asked, eyeing him shrewdly.
"Found the library," Harry said casually, wondering if that was all.
"And a Gryffindor?" Draco asked, glancing over his shoulder at the Gryffindor table. Harry followed his eye line and noticed that Hermione was sitting by herself, the other Gryffindors ignoring her in order to stare at Harry as well.
"That's Hermione," Harry said slowly, wondering why everyone seemed so cranky today. "We had a bit of an argument over a book."
"Oh," Draco said, sounding mollified. Harry wasn't even going to try and guess why until he'd read that book. Judging by it's apparent popularity, he thought it might tell him quite a bit about all the things that were confusing him.
On the way to classes, Harry noticed that a lot of people were whispering and pointing at him as he passed. He hoped Dudley hadn't already turned the rest of the school against him, but the whisperers didn't seem hostile. They seemed almost awed, although why Harry couldn't guess. Every time he stepped out of his dormitory, the whispers started, even in Slytherin, although they were much more discreet than the rest of the school and didn't openly point or gawk at him. He desperately wanted to know why everyone was acting like this, but didn't want to seem ignorant to Blaise or Draco. They were his only friends here, and they were both so confident and had a tendency to snub people they thought weren't good enough. Harry didn't want to be one of the 'not good enough'. So as they walked to class, Harry held his head high and pretended that he wasn't royally confused.
Most of his classes didn't use magic the first day. They spent the period going over what was expected of them and such. Harry paid attention, but thought it all rather boring. He wanted to do magic.
So when Transfiguration rolled around, and they were given matches and told to turn them into needles, Harry was pleased. At least, until he tried to turn it and realized how difficult it was.
He sat between Draco and Blaise, staring at his match in consternation. It hadn't worked. Blaise was going over the pronunciation very carefully, then practicing the wand movement, before trying them out together. Harry gave this a shot, then tried it on his own match and was delighted when it turned silver and got a bit pointy. Granted, it was still wooden, but if you looked and didn't touch, it looked like a needle.
"Hey, Harry, you did it!" Draco exclaimed, looking down at Harry's work. "How!"
"I did what Blaise was doing," Harry said honestly, not mentioning that his needle wasn't actually a needle.
Draco stared very carefully at Blaise, who had yet to even attempt the transfiguration. He mouthed the words along with the dark boy, and waved his wand when he did. Then Draco turned to his matchstick and tried it all together. He managed to produce a workable needle, although it was still brownish-gold and had a red tip at the end.
"Ugh," Draco said, pushing the needle away in disgust. "That's practically Gryffindor colors."
Harry grinned and tried again, this time turning the wood to metal. When Professor McGonagall came over, Blaise finally made the attempt, doing it perfectly on the first try. She gave them all a nod of approval and awarded Slytherin two points apiece.
One thing Harry had noticed about his new Slytherin yearmates, was that they all were very rich and just a little bit snobbish about it. And if they weren't rich, they did a very good job pretending they were, and were even more snobbish because of it. Draco and Blaise in particular seemed to enjoy arguing over who had more money, and while Draco wore Tutshill Tornadoes footsie pajamas, they were very expensive custom made Tutshill Tornadoes footsie pajamas. He had told Harry this, correctly interpreting Harry's grin as he climbed into bed, and Harry had nodded, not knowing or caring why Draco like tornadoes so much, or why he felt his pajamas had to cost more than Uncle Vernon's company car.
It did not make him feel any better about his promise to his uncle, though. Harry had to find a way to pay Uncle Vernon back, and he had a feeling that his friends' opinion of him would drop a few notches if they knew about his money problems. As it was, he'd been too busy with schoolwork to even get back to the library and read that book with Hermione-the-Gryffindor. He didn't know how he'd fit a job in with all that.
As the last day of the first week of school rolled around, Harry was getting a bit paranoid. He hadn't heard a word from Dudley all week, and that could only mean bad things for him. Whenever Dudley got quiet, that meant he was trying to find a new way to get to Harry. A week was about right for this, because, as Harry well knew, Dudley was a bit of an idiot and with him, this sort of thing took a lot of time.
He told Draco and Blaise this over lunch that afternoon. The three of them were eating, noses in their Potions books, as Marcus Flint had assured them that although their Head of House clearly favoured his Slytherins, he only did so because most of them came prepared to his class. Knowing how to gain the favor of the right people was a lesson you learned early in Slytherin House.
Harry leaned his book against the milk jug and said, "Blaise, Draco?"
Both looked up from their books questioningly.
"Ah, I'm a bit concerned about…the Gryffindors." Harry knew that appealing to their sense of house rivalry would work best and quickly. "My cousin, well…he's a right prat, and normally he'd have tried something by now. I'm worried what he's planning, and if he'll get his friends in on it too."
"His friends?" Draco asked with an amused smirk. "Harry, you have got to be kidding me."
Harry stared at him, nonplussed. "What d'you mean?" he asked in confusion. "Does he not have any friends or something? Dudley's never had any problems making friends…"
Blaise stared at him, grinning now. "You don't mean to tell me you haven't noticed that your cousin is a pariah."
"Er…" Harry honestly didn't know what to say to that. "You did?"
"Of course we did!" Draco exclaimed, shaking his head at Harry. "You mentioned that you hate him, so of course we're going to keep an eye out and make sure nothing happens!"
Harry was confused but strangely touched. "Well, thanks…but why doesn't he have any friends?"
Blaise grinned. "You don't go around badmouthing the Boy-Who-Lived and expect to make many friends."
Harry nodded, wondering who exactly this 'Boy-Who-Lived' character was, and why on earth Dudley had been stupid enough to say something about him.
Draco stood suddenly, pulling Blaise and Harry with him. "We're going to be late if we don't hurry."
As Harry followed Blaise to a seat on the Slytherin side of the dungeons where Potions class was held, he glanced at the Gryffindors and noted a few things.
Firstly, Dudley was sitting by himself in the back, and looking very sulky. Secondly, Hermione-the-Gryffindor, while not by herself, was being ignored by her table-mate and had her nose in a book. And thirdly, all the other Gryffindors were staring at him openly.
That was it, Harry decided, avoiding their eyes. He had to find out why. He resolved to visit the library directly after his last class today, which was, quite conveniently, this one.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when the door burst open and everyone went very quiet. Professor Snape swept to the front of the room, robes billowing behind him very menacingly. Harry remembered this from the last time he'd met the professor, when he was welcoming the new Slytherin first years to his house and making his beginning of term speech. He'd fixed Harry with the same inscrutable look then as he did now.
Snape took roll, pausing slightly before Harry's name, but not commenting. As soon as he finished with that, he launched into another monologue, and Harry sat up and paid close attention, just like the rest of the Slytherins. When he heard that they wouldn't be doing much 'foolish wand waving' in this class, Harry was slightly disappointed. Then Snape went on to talk about bottling fame, brewing glory, and putting a stopper in death. Harry was cheered; apparently there was quite a bit you could do without that 'foolish wand waving'.
Then Snape gave him that inscrutable look again and snapped out, "Potter! What would you get if you mixed powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood?'
Harry was so, so grateful he'd spent lunch revising with Draco and Blaise. "The Draught of Living Death, sir?"
Snape nodded, jaw clenching slightly. "Five points to Slytherin." Then he rounded on the Gryffindors, and said, "Dursley! What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Dudley had started quite badly when his name had been called and stared, wide eyed, at the menacing professor. "I – I dunno."
"You will address me as 'Sir' or 'Professor' at all times, Dursley," Professor Snape sneered. "Now let's try again. Where would you look if I told you to get me a beozar?"
"Uh…a what?" Dudley said, clearly having no idea. "Sir!" he quickly added as Snape's eyes flashed.
Harry had to fight very hard to keep from grinning. He glanced at Blaise, who was sitting next to him, and noticed that his friend had no compunctions about this, and neither did Draco, or Pansy Parkinson, for that matter. She was seated next to Draco and snickering quietly with him, and smirked at Harry when she saw him looking. He allowed himself a small smirk in return before schooling his features to be neutral again and turned back to face the front.
Snape grilled Dudley with a few more questions that Harry was happy to say he knew the answers to. He would have to thank Marcus Flint. Dudley had become increasingly intimidated, until finally Snape seemed to grow tired of it and sneered, "Haven't even cracked the binding on those books, have you Dursley? For your information, there is no difference between monkshood and wolfsbane. They are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. A beozar can be found in a goat's stomach, and it will cure you of most poisons. Squonk tears are more commonly used in vanishing potions, and if you don't start showing more promise, you may be wishing for one by the end of term."
He stared around at the rest of the class, who were all watching him raptly, before snapping, "Well? Why aren't you all writing this down?"
There was a sudden scramble for quills and parchment, and Snape continued. "Today you will be attempting a simple potion to cure boils. The directions are on the board. You may begin."
Harry couldn't help but grin. The rest of his classes, aside from Transfiguration, had been spent taking notes and had all been rather boring. Professor Snape just dove right in.
Then he frowned, remembering his decision to keep Dudley's grades up. It looked as though it was going to be harder than he thought, especially if Professor Snape routinely questioned his students like this. He wouldn't buy Dudley having good homework scores if it was clear during class that Dudley had no idea what he was doing.
He'd figure something out. First, though, he needed to find out what was going on. And before he could do that, he had a potion to attempt.
After class, Harry had begged off chess in the common room, claiming he needed to go to the library. Blaise accepted this with a shrug, and in turn distracted Draco, badgering him to play instead and allowing Harry to make a clean escape.
When he got to the library, he made a beeline for Hogwarts, a History where they had hidden it between a wall and a bookshelfonly to find Hermione-the-Gryffindor already there with her nose buried in it.
"Excuse me," Harry said, and she looked up at him, startled.
"Hello," she quietly. "Did you want to use it?"
Harry grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, if you don't mind sharing."
She smiled back and offered him the seat next to hers. "You're a Slytherin you know," she stated matter-of-factly.
He blinked. "Er…and you're a Gryffindor?"
She shook her head. "You know our houses are rivals?"
"So?" he asked. "You haven't done anything to me but steal my book. And you're being nice enough about it."
In truth, the idea of House rivalry had only really come up a few times. He'd heard the upper years going on about Quidditch, which he gathered was a sport of some kind, and he knew they didn't like the Gryffindors because of that. He'd also heard Draco and Blaise talking scathingly about certain Gryffindors, and frankly, Harry could see their point. Especially when the Gryffindors were people like Dudley. But this girl hadn't done anything to prove herself worthy of the Gryffindor that Harry knew, so he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
She smiled at him again, showing off her oversized front teeth, and said, "Okay then." She pushed the book closer to him so he could read along with her, and they spent some time like that until Harry huffed in exasperation.
"Something wrong?" she asked, looking up from the book as though she'd forgotten he was there.
"There is nothing in here about what I need to know!" Harry said unhappily. "And here I was fighting with you over a useless book!"
Hermione did not appear happy that Harry was calling her book useless, and raised her eyebrow at him.
"Well, it is useful to know about all the houses," Harry said hastily. "And that you can't Apparate here…whatever that is. But that wasn't what I needed to know!"
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "First of all, I read about Apparating. It's like…teleporting."
Harry's jaw dropped slightly. "We can do that?"
She grinned at him and pointed at the book. "Not here."
Harry shook his head and used one of Blaise's favorite words. "Wicked."
She nodded, then looked at him thoughtfully and said, "If you want to learn about something, you just have to find the right book. What do you want to know?"
Harry considered this for a moment, then answered honestly, "Well, for one, I'd like to know why everyone keeps staring at me all the time."
Hermione gawked at him.
"Yes, just like that," Harry said dryly. "But why?"
"You don't…but you have to know why!" she exclaimed. "I've read about you in…so many books! How could you not know?"
"Know what?" he asked weakly. He was in books?
"You're famous!" she said, the she jumped up from her seat suddenly and nearly ran over to one of the shelves. She stared at it for a moment before pulling no less than five books out and bringing them back to him.
Harry sifted through them dumbly. "I'm not in all these," he said disbelievingly as she grabbed one and began flipping through it. "Why would I be famous? I didn't do anything!"
"Oh, but Harry, you did!" she said earnestly, finding the page she was looking for and shoving it under his nose. "Read that!"
Harry looked down at the page with some curiosity and read:
The Dark Lord You-Know-Who (see previous chapter) brought dark times to the wizarding world. For years the wizarding population of Great Britain lived in fear and terror. His downfall was celebrated widely when, on October 31, 1981, the infant Harry Potter, now more commonly known as 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', defeated You-Know-Who. Little is known about how he was able to do this. He was found in the rubble of his home at Godric's Hollow, where he and his parents, Lily and James Potter, had been in hiding for some time before being betrayed to You-Know-Who by the spy, Sirius Black, who was incarcerated in Azkaban the very next day. Lily and James Potter were found dead, unable to survive the killing curse unlike their extraordinary son, and so the Boy-Who-Lived was sent to live at an unknown location, possibly with close relatives. Little has been heard from him since.
Harry stared at it in shock. "My parents were murdered," he said softly.
Hermione paused in searching the second book for him and gazed at him sympathetically.
"I…they told me my parents died in a car crash!" He remembered what Blaise had said earlier that day. You don't badmouth the Boy-Who-Lived. The Boy-Who-Lived. That was what Harry was supposed to be. He had lived and his parents hadn't. That was why they were all staring at him and whispering about him, and that was why everyone expected him to know things. And if they did, why had the Dursleys lied to him?
Harry snorted. That was a stupid question. Why would they have told him? The better question was: Why hadn't he found all this out sooner?
Hermione offered him the next book silently, and Harry continued reading about himself. Every book she put in front of him, he read, and he learned what the wizarding world thought about him. And when the library closed, he checked out several of the books, smuggled them back to his dorm, and read through the night.