Summary of the last chapter:

Harry's first day of classes starts with another double lesson of Potions, which he had missed the day before. Thanks to Hermione's notes, he is able to make a positive first impression on Professor Snape. In DADA, however, Harry gets a sudden migraine and Tom even falls unconscious when their gaze locks with that of Professor Quirrell. The pain is so bad that Harry has to go to the hospital wing to get a headache relief potion. On his way to his first flying lesson he has a first encounter with Hogwarts' funny staircases. When Draco throws Neville's Rembembrall away in a quarrel with Ron, Harry jumps on his broom and catches it. Harry is thrilled with flying, Tom is not. The day concludes with a lesson in Herbology and a visit to Hagrid's hut. Harry learns about the break-in in Gringotts, which makes Tom suspect that whatever was in the vault is now hidden in Hogwarts. Harry and Tom name Harry's pet snake Marvolo, as the name popped into Tom's mind. They then report to Professor Snape for detention – a punishment for jumping on a broom when specifically told not to by Madame Hooch.

A/N: The fanfiction site keeps doing funny things: For weeks, the stats show no traffic at all. A new chapter doesn't appear after I posted it – or it pops up and disappears again. Without your reviews, I'm not even sure if you have found it, as the chapter counter doesn't work properly either. I hope the technicians will figure out what is wrong soon, but given that this has been going on for weeks, I'm not optimistic. So for the moment, your reviews are the only thing that let me know a new chapter has been posted successfully and that people are actually reading it. (Thanks to Amber, Fast Frank and Baku67 - it was only thanks to you that I knew the chapter was finally showing!) Seriously, it feel rather lonely here, writing and posting with everything just kind of disappearing into a void. :(

Harry Learns about his Parents

In the following weeks, Harry slowly adapted to the wonders the wizarding world held in store and developed a routine. Classes in the morning and early afternoon were followed by a period of leisure time which he spent studying in the library, mostly with Hermione. She seemed to have as much trouble making friends as Harry had in his own house. Nobody was outright mean to him or anything, but his housemates seemed to keep their distance from him. For some weird reason, they didn't seem to know what to make of Harry.

"It's because you're the Boy-Who-lived," Tom mused. "A celebrity, the heir to an old pureblood family, which seems very important to those in Slytherin. And yet you're rather ignorant of everything magical, and I'm afraid that you quite unintentionally often put your foot in it."

"I know!" Harry sighed. "I just never know when or why. It's frustrating. And Professor Snape seems similarly undecided about me. It's like I've offended him in the past and he keeps expecting me to do it again – only to be surprised and maybe even upset when I don't. It doesn't make any sense."

"We'll learn to navigate these waters, Harry. Don't forget there's a lot of history you're not aware of. All wizards go to Hogwarts, and Professor Snape must roughly be about the age of your parents. He might even have known them when he was a student."

Hm, there was an idea. Harry was curious about his parents. Yet he had never thought to asks the professors about them. Professor McGonagall, Flitwick and Binns must have been their teachers. Well, Binns certainly wouldn't remember – he seemed to forget students from one lesson to the next. Harry hadn't had a chance to talk to the headmaster about anything either, although he longed to ask him about his placement with the Dursleys, about the night his parents died and why nobody had ever come to check on him. But the headmaster was rather elusive – there was no personal contact between him and the students as far as Harry could tell.

About two weeks after the incident in DADA, Harry got another chance to talk with Professor Snape. One of the prefects passed him the message that he should report to his office after dinner. Harry wondered if he was in trouble again. But he hadn't done anything, at least not anything he was aware of.

"Mr. Potter. Is there a particular issue between Professor Quirrell and you that I should perhaps be aware of?" Professor Snape asked.

"Uhm, I don't know, Sir. I don't think there's anything you can do about it."

"About what, exactly?"

"The smell. It gives me headaches, like really bad ones. I always need a headache potion after his classes. I suppose it's the garlic he must have under his turban."

"You know, since we're discussing this," Tom interjected, "– doesn't it strike you as odd that a professor of a supposedly excellent school like Hogwarts is teaching with garlic underneath his turban and no one seems to find this odd?"

Harry nodded in agreement, which had Professor Snape puzzled. But he was always half-way between irritated and puzzled around Harry, even when Harry was not having a parallel conversation in his mind.

"And is this smell the reason why you refuse to look at him? Professor Quirrell finds it disrespectful."

Harry sighed. "I don't mean to be. But … I know it sounds weird, and I have no explanation, but looking him in the eye makes the headache so much worse. I almost fainted two weeks ago." Or at least half of his conscious self had.

This seemed to gain the dark clad professor's attention. "That's … most curious, Mr. Potter. Would you allow me an experiment?"

"I guess that would depend on the experiment, Sir."

Professor Snape almost smiled. It wasn't so much a movement of his mouth but a slight hint of amusement in his eyes. "A very Slytherin answer. Have you ever heard of Legilimency?"

Harry answered in the negative.

"It's a mental skill some wizards have that allows them to look into the mind of others, especially if they have no knowledge of Occlumency, which is the skill of closing one's mind against Legilimency."

"You mean there are mind-reading wizards around?" Harry was horrified. What if anybody with such ability detected Tom?

"It's a bit more complex than mind reading, and there are very few wizards alive who have the skill. The headmaster is one. The Dark Lord isanother. I do have some talent in both disciplines. I wonder if Quirrell is skilled at it as well."

"You think he tried to look into my mind, and that gave me a headache?"

"Only if you possess rudimentary skills in Occlumency he tried to overcome by force. That's what I'd like to test."

Harry 'looked' at Tom in his mind. "Sounds risky," Tom said. "What if he sees me in here?"

Harry nodded again. Tom was right, it wasn't worth the risk. He had no idea how wizards felt about other wizards having another person in their mind. They might think of it as possession, something they hadn't even completely ruled out themselves.

"I'd rather not, Professor. Please don't take it personally. It was a rather uncomfortable experience."

"Then, I'm afraid, I have no advice for you. Except maybe for this: it's wise not to look a wizard you know to be a skilled Legilimens straight in the eye if you can't defend your mind. But you can try to make it less obvious. Instead of not even raising your face and making them feel ignored, focus your gaze on the spot right between their eyebrows."

Harry nodded and wondered if that included Professor Snape, who had admitted to knowing Legilimency.

"Sir, what's the ethic of such skill? Do I have to expect to be legilimised by every wizard who has the power to do so?

"Certainly not. It's rude at best and a serious offence at worst. Especially since people are usually able to tell if someone tries to gaze into their minds. But … there are substances which can lower your natural defences so that an attempt at Legilimency is less felt and more likely to be successful. So you should watch what you eat or drink if you do not completely trust the person offering something to you. These substances are efficient in small doses."

"Thank you for telling me, Sir. I'll be sure to heed your advice. Is there a way to learn or improve Occlumency?"

"You can certainly read up on the theory, but that will only get you so far. It's advisable to practice meditation. The trick to Occlumency, first and foremost, is to be able to clear your mind, and to do so on a moment's notice. It's not an easy skill to learn, and it can only be perfected and tested by facing a Legilimens, I'm afraid."

Again, Harry nodded. "Can you recommend any books, Sir?"

"I'll write a list and leave it with Madam Pince in the library."

"That'll be helpful. Thank you!"

Professor Snape nodded in acknowledgement. When Harry made no move to get up despite their business being concluded, he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Was there anything else, Mr. Potter?"

Harry hesitated. "I … I hope you don't mind my asking, Professor, but I was wondering … You seem to know my Aunt Petunia, at least by name. You said she knew her sister was a witch. And since you're probably around the age of my parents, I figured that you must have attended Hogwarts together with them, at least for some time. Did you know my parents?"

If Harry hadn't looked at his Professor's face so closely, he might have missed the slight tightening of his jaw.

"It's just that I don't know anything about them. I don't even know who to ask."

The professor sighed deeply and sounded pained when he said: "I'm probably the last person you should ask this question, Mr. Potter. Yes, I knew them. We were in the same year. I was friends with your mother for a time. She was a bright, extremely talented and kind witch and well-liked by everybody. She was Head Girl and Professor Flitwick's best student in Charms in years. Your father … suffice to say I was not friends with him. He was Gryffindor's Quidditch captain and very popular. He disliked Slytherins, however, so if you ask anybody of this house, you'll most likely not get a favourable opinion about him."

"He … hated Slytherins?" asked Harry, taken aback. What would his father think of him, a snake? Would he have hated Harry for being sorted into Professor Snape's house?

"I'm talking about the time when he was a student," his Head of House amended his statement. "Tensions between Slytherin and the other houses wererunning high back then. The Dark Lord had many supporters in Slytherin, given that it has always been the house most purebloods were sorted into. Children often adopted the stance of their parents and inevitably became involved in the rising conflict. Young people don't see the world in shades of grey, but rather in black and white, but they tend to get wiser with age. I'm sure your father would look beyond house prejudice where his son is concerned. Your mother would not have chosen him to be her husband if he had given her cause to doubt his dedication to his family."

"A speech worthy of a politician," remarked Tom. "I think he hates your father's guts."

"It was nice of him to try and make it sound objective, though." Still, Harry would prefer an honest opinion, not a carefully edited one. And he wouldn't mind if it came from someone who actually liked his father.

Aloud, he asked: "Who do you suggest I speak to if I want a … more subjective view?"

Professor Snape raised his brow. "I assure you this was a most subjective view. But if you direct the same question at Professor McGonagall, I'm positive she'll be happy to tell you many favourable things about both of your parents."

"Thank you again, Sir. I really appreciate all the information you gave me."

*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*

Harry followed Professor Snape's advice and visited Professor McGonagall during her office hours. The Head of Gryffindor seemed surprised that he wanted to talk to her – it seemed that Slytherins seldom, if at all, sought the counsel of any professor but their own Head of House.

"Of course I knew your parents, Mr. Potter. They were both students of mine, students I think very fondly of. The strange thing about them was that there was no love lost between them for a long time. Your mother seemed to strongly dislike your father, who was a bit of a prankster who took nothing seriously. This only changed towards the end of their sixth year, and then they got married right out of school. It took many by surprise. But they were happy together, there is no doubt about that. And they were very happy to be your parents."

"Did my parents have any friends who are still alive?"

Professor McGonagall hesitated. "None that you could talk to, I'm afraid."

Tom perked up at that. "Oh … I sense an issue here. There's something she's not telling you."

"You are really an expert on people, aren't you?" Harry asked Tom, only slightly sarcastic.

"Actually, I think I am. While you are the one leading conversations and posing the questions, I'm reduced to the role of silent observer, and it's something I've gotten quite skilled at. I watch, Harry, and I'm very good at spotting these slight telltale signs of things unmentioned that most would overlook while processing what is actually being said."

Harry grumbled something that qualified as begrudging acknowledgement to Tom and nodded at Professor McGonagall.

"What were they like, my parents?" Harry asked, and got very much the same answer as the one Professor Snape had given him. His father had been an excellent Quidditch player and accomplished student in most subjects, but he had been best at transfiguration.

"You know what – I think I do have some pictures of your parents around," Professor McGonagall said, and got up to rummage in a chest of drawers. "Your mother occasionally wrote to me after she left school. And you should find their year book in the library, too."

She opened a wooden box and, after a brief searching, pulled out a photo. "She sent this to me some time after their wedding."

The photograph she gave him showed a happy couple, smiling brightly into the camera.

The picture was moving, like the picture of the Goblin in the newspaper article about the break-in at Gringotts. And Harry still marvelled at the many paintings in Hogwarts that did not behave like paintings at all. The people shown moved around in them and even occasionally left their frames, only to turn up elsewhere. They were able to talk to the onlooker, too. He couldn't really wrap his mind around it.

The photo was not quite like that. The movement, Harry realized, was repetitive. As if the camera had captured a brief sequence before and after the actual picture was taken and that kept replaying in a loop. It was like watching a brief movie scene.

"I look a lot like my dad," Harry noticed. He was wearing rounded glasses as well and obviously had the same unmanageable dark hair.

"Yes, it was one of the first things I noticed about you," agreed Professor McGonagall. "It's quite remarkable."

"You know…" ventured Tom. "With Professor Snape and your dad hating each other, it's no wonder he didn't seem to like you very much when he first laid eyes on you. You are his spitting image."

"I look much younger."

"The professor will remember how he looked while in school."

"You have your mother's eyes, though," Professor McGonagall added fondly. "I can almost see her when I look at you."

"Is there a magical way to make copies of pictures?"

"Yes. But you may keep the picture, Mr. Potter. I'll ask around and see if I can find more photos for you. I'm sure Professor Flitwick has some. Your mum was one of his favourites and she kept in contact with him, too."

"I'd very much like that, Professor. It's really weird learning they were wizards and quite competent ones at that, and not unemployed drunks who died in a car crash, as claimed by my aunt."

Professor McGonagall stared at him aghast. "A car accident? Unemployed drunks? Oh, the audacity! I told Professor Dumbledore that they were the worst kind of Muggles … talking in such way about people who are regarded as heroes in the wizarding world!"

"You met my aunt?"

"Well, yes, I was there when you were placed in their care. I had my reservations, but who would have thought …" She fell silent and shook her head in disbelief.

"Professor McGonagall … why, in all the years I stayed with the Dursleys, did nobody ever check on me?"

His Transfiguration teacher was taken aback. "Well, Professor Dumbledore assured me that you were well looked after, and that wards were in place … it was the only safe place for you, where You-Know-Who's followers couldn't find you."

"But he was dead. Why was I still in danger?"

"Oh, the violence didn't stop just because You-Know-Who was gone. There were acts of revenge. People got hurt. It was not a time to let our guard down. As the leader of the only opposition against You-Know-Who at the time, the headmaster had access to information most of us didn't, and I'm sure there were good reasons for this decision."

"I understand. But I still wish somebody would have visited at least once. Told me the truth about my parents, and that I was a wizard. It was rather overwhelming when I found out through your letter."

"I can only offer my sincere apologies for that, Mr. Potter. The letters are not written by my hand and sent out individually. There's a book that has all the names of new admissions to Hogwarts in it. Letters to those who are born to wizards are written by self-writing quills and sent out automatically – they know to expect them. It's just a formality. Muggleborns are given the letters in person. I'm usually the one doing those visits. Since you are not a Muggleborn, you fell through the cracks. I have to take responsibility for that, as I should have remembered you were living with Muggles."

"The first who should have remembered is Dumbledore," commented Tom irritatedly, "as he was the one who had placed you there."

"Who else besides you, Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid knew where I was?"

Professor McGonagall seemed uncomfortable with the question. "No one, as far as I know. I assume the idea was to keep you safe and make sure you could grow up without the fame, the attention and the expectations. But you should have been re-acquainted with the wizard world much sooner. We have done you a great disservice by failing to do so."

Harry could feel that Professor McGonagall was genuinely feeling sorry and guilty about what had happened. The fact that she openly admitted her mistake and expressed regrets mollified him somewhat and he quickly switched the subject before she could get all teary-eyed about it.

"I asked Professor Snape about my parents. He said my dad was not a friend of Slytherins."

"Professor Snape and your father were very much at odds with each other. I'd go as far as to say they hated each other with equal measure."

"Do you think he'd be disappointed with me, my dad – for being sorted into Slytherin?"

"Mr. Potter, you are a studious, hard-working and polite child, and I'm sure both of your parents would be immensely proud of you, no matter what house you are in. I admit I would have liked to have you in my house – not only because Madam Hooch assures me that once you are on the Slytherin Quidditch team, our chances at the cup will be greatly lowered. But I'm sure you'll have a much better chance at a somewhat amiable relationship with Professor Snape, as he is not overly fond of Gryffindors."

Harry grinned. "Yes, I noticed."

Harry was really glad not to have been sorted with the lions if it kept him from finding himself at the wrong end of Professor Snape's sarcastic wit, which more often than not translated into downright insults. He had absolutely no patience for those he considered dunderheads.

He was far more mellow with those of his own house, and even the lazy or incompetent among them, like Draco's goonies, were mostly spared public humiliation. Though the fact that Professor Snape basically ignored their existence spoke volumes according to Tom. It was pretty much the same disdain − a fact that just went unnoticed by Crabbe and Goyle, as their minds were too simple to grasp this kind of subtlety.

With Harry himself, the professor still seemed undecided about how to treat him. He was strict and often tried to put him on the spot by quizzing him more often than he did with others. But Harry did his homework diligently and made sure to read a bit ahead in most of his lessons, which really paid off in Potions. It helped that the subject was interesting and required skills that had been trained into Harry from an early age: Ingredient preparation and brewing was not much different from cooking, after all. While Harry didn't think that he was going to excel in Potions like his mum in Charms and his dad in Transfiguration, he was certainly not one of the dunderheads, and Harry hoped that his favourite Professor would eventually come to like him, at least a little bit.