SHOUT OUTS/ANSWERS

Lalez: Thanks. I'm glad you think so. I didn't even think of that for Draco. Glad that it worked out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE/DISCLAIMER

All familiar characters belong to J.K. Rowlings. I only own the new plot.

Harry grunted and looked around. They were back at the outside of Professor Flitwick's Charms class.

"Blimey! Weird way to travel!" Sean exclaimed and Dean nodded in agreement.

"Come on. Let's get to Transfiguration," Hermione stated and the others followed her. As they did so, Harry's eyes clouded. This was going to be a long day, especially if they continually had to do double classes. Shaking this thought off, he walked into Transfiguration and stared at the orange Tabby that was perched on a desk. That's gotta be the professor, he thought to himself. Almost as if the cat had heard his thought the cat turned into the professor.

"Blimey!" Everyone gasped.

"She's an animagus! Wicked!" Ron enthused.

"A what?" Harry wondered. What in the world is an animagus? he mused.

"An animagus is someone who can turn into an animal. It means she can turn into a cat and back," Ron explained.

"I read about this. It's supposed to be really hard and you have to get a teacher's permission to even attempt it," Hermione added in an awed and envious tone.

"Which makes sense because as Hermione stated, it's supposed to be really hard," Susan chimed in.

"How amazing," Violet breathed. That probably takes a lot of concentration, she thought to herself. Could she ever do that? Wow. That'd be kind of neat, Harry thought to himself. Maybe if he was an animagus, he could hide from Dudley, Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia. He then gave himself a mental shake as Professor McGonagall started the class and Harry concentrated as he listened to her instructions. Okay turn the matchstick into a needle, he thought to himself and concentrated. To be honest, he was a little surprised that the professor was diving right into the lesson, but he wasn't going to raise a fuss about it. It would be better to just keep his head down and concentrate. Matchstick into needle, he coached himself. He could do this. Once more, he focused on the incantation that they had been given and stared at feather in front of him.

"Hey, I did it!" he heard Hermione exclaim and he turned to her, giving her a small grin. On the other side of her, Ron scowled, looking put out.

"Great work," he said, his tone slightly glum and bitter. Why can't I get it? he wondered. He was working with the wand. Okay, calm down. He could get this. He just…had to…imagine a needle that looked like Hermione's. He took a calming breath and concentrated on the matchstick in front of him and said the incantation while flicking his wand at it. Moments later, he was staring at what appeared to be a half needle, half matchstick.

"Bugger!" he uttered.

"Language," Professor McGonagall chided, coming up to him. "A very good attempt, Mr. Weasley. You're halfway there. Well done," she praised. At this, Ron smiled. To his surprise, Hermione also smiled at him. As the professor checked on the rest of the class, Ron turned to Hermione.

"Wow," he said in surprise.

"She's right, you know. You've done very well," the girl stated.

"Not as good as you," he pointed out.

"Just luck I'm sure," she responded, though she flushed with pride. So glad I'm doing well so far, she thought to herself. She was muggle born and needed to prove that she belonged here. she didn't want any of the teachers thinking that there had been a mistake in her being accepted.

"Luck, my arse. You've got a knack," Ron insisted.

"Language, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall chided again. "Five points to Gryffindor for being encouraging," she added. Though the manners are different, he's got a good and kind heart like his father, she thought to herself.

At the other end of the table, Harry looked at the matchstick with a scowl. Let's try this again, he thought to himself. Once more, he grasped his wand and stated the incantation. To his surprise, the transfiguration stuck. Well, almost. Though it was a needle, the color was dull.

"Oi, that's pretty good!" Neville stated, looking forlornly at his own needle which looked wooden.

"Better than mine," Seamus grumped, looking at the matchstick that had splintered.

"You're using a bit too much force, Mr. Finnagan," Professor McGonagall told him as she repaired the matchstick. "Try a gentler hand," she advised and the boy nodded, and tried again. Beside them, Violet and Susan once more stated the incantation and they both grinned as the matchstick turned into a brilliant silver needle. Okay, let's try this again, Neville thought to himself and quietly repeated the incantation as he pointed his wand at the needle. To his surprised pleasure, the wood started to turn a silver color and then moments later, the needle was just like the one on Professor McGonagall's desk. Hey! I did it! Neville thought to himself as a pleased smile crossed his lips. Can't believe I did it, he thought to himself. Maybe it was like his gran had said, that his magic was more introverted than other people's and that it just took more concentration to get things done. Of course, his uncle Algie's actions hadn't really helped matters…the boy gave himself a mental shake, shoving the memory away. He didn't want to think about that! He had magic and he was at Hogwarts. That was all that mattered.

After class, they headed out and traipsed into another classroom.

"Hello, students, I'm Professor Binns," a voice stated and the kids stared.

"A ghost," Hermione whispered, her voice awed. Their history class was going to be taught by a ghost? That was…amazing. Then, she fell silent and the man continued, his eyes flickering when some of the students began taking notes, though most didn't.

Draco leaned in his seat, not bothering to take notes. I already know this. Mother and Father already taught me, he thought to himself. And he could admit, he was bored. Looking around, he saw others taking notes, rolling his eyes when he saw Susan doing so. She learned the same thing I did. Why is she taking notes? he wondered. Then again, Susan seemed to have a lot in common with the muggle-born Granger in terms of academia, so he supposed it made sense that she was taking notes on something she already knew about. But still, he thought it was weird and unnecessary. Then again, when did Sue ever listen to him in this regard? With a quiet sigh, the boy leaned back a bit more, being careful not to tip his chair and only half-heartedly listened to the professor. Maybe he could convince the headmaster that he and Susan didn't need the class. Yeah, that sounded good.

"And when was the Statue Of Secrecy first proposed? Anyone? Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Binns asked. At this, the young wizard sat up straight, his bearing erect.

"Sixteen Ninety-Two," he responded primly and the ghost moved on. Wow. That was…that could've been bad, he mused. Maybe he did need to pay attention. After all, it wouldn't do for his father or mother to find out that he was mucking about in his classes. As their heir, he had an image to uphold and the last thing he would ever want to do was bring shame to them. He'd have to do better.

Violet's eyes flickered as she took notes. She couldn't believe that an actual ghost was teaching the class. How thrilling! she thought to herself. She wanted to know it all. As she hurriedly wrote down the information, she glanced at Hermione to see her doing the same thing. Okay, so the professor sounded a bit boring with a droning voice, but that was okay. It was still an interesting subject. Up until Professor McGonagall had arrived to explain things to her parents, she had never even heard of the wizarding world. She just hoped that she didn't become too far behind. After all, kids who had grown up in this world would have a head start over her and Hermione, meaning that they would have to prove that they belonged at Hogwarts with everybody else. Hate this. Just want to fit in, Violet thought to herself. She had thought she had something like that when she entered Hogwarts but she was learning that she was at a disadvantage. She then looked around, catching Harry's gaze.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"So much to catch up on," she responded and he nodded in agreement, unaware that Neville was watching them. Wonder what they're thinking, the quiet Gryffindor thought to himself. Maybe it was something he could help with? Only if they wanted it, of course. The last thing he wanted was to stick his nose into someone else's business and end up having them get mad at him.

After the class was over, Dean, Hermione, Harry, Seamus, and Violet headed out once more, being stopped by another teacher and the process they had gone through with Minerva was repeated. The next class, they had was history for the muggle world and Harry immediately set out to taking notes as did the rest of the group. Surprisingly, the class went fast and after it was over, they then headed out, where they were sent off to science and afterwards, they had English. Thankfully, the muggle subjects just seemed to be an introduction to the course or a test to see where they would be at, which made sense. After all, these teachers didn't know what kind of education their students had had in the muggle world and would need to make sure that they got the same type of education in the wizarding world. Still, it was a little daunting to think about.

One English was over, they traipsed to where the other first-years were and stared at the woman who was floating on a broom after she had brought some brooms out of an outside shed and had placed them on the ground.

"Welcome first years. My name is Madam Hooch and I will be teaching you to fly, though for those of you with a wizard's upbringing, this will mostly be a refresher course," the woman announced. "Now what you want to do, is to use the command "Up" in a nice firm voice," she continued. As one, the class did as instructed. Then, there was a collective gasp of pleased shock as the brooms leapt into their hands. "Very good. Very good," Madam Hooch approved, a smile gracing her lips. "Now straddle the broom as I have," she instructed and once more, the kids did as they were told. "Push with your feet and-"

"AAAAAH!" At the startled yelps from Draco and Neville as their brooms shot upward, Rolanda's eyes widened. Bugger! Those two brooms! she seethed. It was definitely time to retire them.

"Keep calm!" she called after them and quickly flew to the boys who were gripping their broomsticks tightly. Using a quick spell to stop the flight, she led them down back to the ground. "Come with me. I'm taking you both to the infirmary so that Madam Pomfrey can take a look at you. Class is dismissed for today," she stated, leading the two boys away.

"I'm okay. It just startled me," Draco assured.

"Y-yeah," Neville agreed. That was horrifying, he thought to himself. But there was no reason to say this out loud. He'd look like a wimp! And he didn't want to look like a wimp in front of the others, especially not someone like Draco Malfoy.

"There's no sense in taking any chances," Madam Hooch responded, and within moments, they had reached the infirmary.

"Rolanda. What brings-?" Madam Pomfrey began to ask, her voice trailing off when she saw the two boys.

"They had a bit of a scare during the flying lessons. Their brooms took off without being told," the other woman answered and the Medi-witch nodded and pulled out her wand, quickly running it up and down both boys, her eyes frowned in concentration.

"The diagnostic spell states that they're fine, though I sense some nervousness from them both," she assured. "But of course, the boys would know themselves better," she continued.

"I'm okay," Draco insisted.

"Y-yeah. Me too," Neville was quick to say. Not gonna look like a sissy in front of anyone else, he thought to himself.

"Then you can go," the healer stated. "But I'm going to prescribe a Calming Drought for the both of you just in case things sneak up on you," she continued, writing things down on two separate pieces of paper. "Now then, what are your names?"

"Draco Malfoy."
"Neville Longbottom." At this, the woman filled out the space with their names and then gave them each a small vial that was filled with a murky liquid. Satisfied, Madam Hooch led them out and the two joined their friends in Potions and sat down just as the instructor reached the front of the classroom.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Longbottom, you're cutting it quite close," the instructor said, a certain degree of displeasure in his voice.

"Our apologies, Professor Snape," Draco stated respectfully. "Mr. Longbottom and I had a bit of a mishap in flying class, but Madam Pomfrey has already cleared us," he continued and the man gave a quick nod to them as the boys took their seats.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with it's shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the minds, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." As he was saying this, Severus looked around the room, taking note of who was already taking notes, Draco Malfoy, the son of Lucius, a bushy-haired girl named Hermione Granger, and then there was Harry Potter, Lily's son. Severus watched as their quills scratched on the parchment. Let's see who did the reading, he thought to himself. "Who knows what you would get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" he barked out and a few people raised their hands, including the bushy-haired girl.

"Miss Granger?" he called.

"It makes a sleeping potion that's so potent that it's sometimes called the Draught Of Living Death," she responded, and Severus watched as Harry quickly wrote down the answer.

"Well done, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor," he stated. "And where would I find a Bezoar?" he continued, and again, people raised their hands. "Mr. Malfoy?"

"In the stomach of a goat," Draco replied and again, Severus saw Harry write this down.

"Eight points to Slytherin," Severus said silkily. At this, he saw a boy with red hair scowl. Another Weasley. Just what I need, he grumped. Hopefully he wouldn't be a prankster like his twin brothers. "And what are the differences between monkshood and wolfsbane?" For a third time, the kids' hands went up.

"Mr. Finnegan?" Severus asked.

"They're the same thing. It's also known as aconite and they're used to help a werewolf keep its wits about them when they're in their wolf form," the boy responded. For a third time, Severus saw Harry write down the answers.

"Two points for Gryffindor," he announced. "And why aren't the rest of you writing this down?" he snapped. He then gave into his impulse to glance at the Potter boy and blinked in surprise. The boy was staring at his notes, a look upon his face as if he was trying to solve a difficult puzzle. He looks like Lily right now, he thought to himself, recalling all the times that she had looked the same way when puzzling out a particularly difficult problem. And wasn't that interesting? Could it be that there was more to the boy than they originally thought? Severus put the thought away and continued the lesson. It was of no consequence to him what the lad looked like and he wasn't even sure why he was focusing on this.

Afterwards, the kids went to the last class of the day, which was Defense Against The Dark Arts. The kids walked into the classroom and took their seats, each of them noting the man that was standing in front of a desk.

"Good morning class. I am your instructor, Mr. Quirrell and this is Defense Against The Dark Arts," the man stated. "Today, we will be only doing an introductory course of the spells you will be learning as first years as well as some of the dark creatures you may come across," the man stated, looking around as he spoke, stopping when his gaze landed on Harry. Why is he staring at me like that? Harry wondered. Then, his eyes flickered in surprised confusion. There was a prickle of…something…on his head. It was painful, but he didn't know what it was. Biting back a moan, he raised his right hand to his head, trying to get rid of the sensation. Then, his eyes flickered. The scar on the top of his head…it was…burning…and kind of painful. It's never done that before, he thought to himself. Why was it doing it now? Did it mean anything? No, surely not. Pushing the thought away, he focused on the text Professor Quirrell was reading out of, diligently taking notes, a small smile gracing his lips. It was a little weird writing with a quill, but also kind of fun as well. Okay, I need to focus, he thought to himself. He didn't want the man to think that he wasn't taking this subject seriously. After all, if he thought that, some of the other teachers might get wind of it and then he'd be kicked out and stuck with his aunt, uncle, and cousin for even longer.

Quirinus eyes narrowed in thought as he continued to teach the class. The wizarding world's so-called savior sure is smaller than I expected, he thought derisively. And from the furtive way he had witnessed the boy acting throughout the day, his plan was going to work out even better than he thought. No one was going to befriend a shell of a boy when they were supposed to be a last hope for an entire population. No, the Potter brat would be isolated and alienated from his peers for his cowardly demeanor, leaving him ripe for the picking. Almost as if the man had spoken to him, the "savior of the wizarding world" looked up and Quirinus had to turn away to hide his smile. This was going to be good. He just had to time this right. And he would do so. Potter wouldn't know what hit him.