Professor McGonagall had warned Harry that his time in the Wizarding World would not be like those his age or those who like him would be entering the world for the first time, that the circumstances of his parents' tragic demise and his miraculous survival made him something of a celebrity. But Harry did not think that the woman meant something like this.
From the day of his sorting, the people at Slytherin House looked at him oddly, each one assessing him with keen interest, curiosity and a hint of suspicion. Those in his year made friendly conversation with him but Harry had the feeling that none of them intended to make actual friends with him.
As for the rest of the school, they would stare. Some would stare at him in awe, which Harry supposed was because of the whole surviving thing, but some would stare at him with some fear in their eyes. Why they feared him he had no idea, there was nothing that Harry did that would warrant such looks. Yet he was subject to them daily, that and the constant whispers of his looks, the glasses, his height, and especially his scar. Especially the scar.
"You are lacking in your training here" the serpent hissed, coiled up on the four-poster bed he was given in his dorm. He was sharing the room with five other boys in his year, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. All of whom had left not too long ago.
"It's barely been a week since I started here" Harry countered with a roll of his eyes. "They're not teaching us anything that I need to work hard over yet."
"That is the attitude that would get you overshadowed by your peers. You want to be the best, don't you? The best in your year and the best wizard you can be?"
Harry pursed his lips and bit his cheeks. It was once that he had mentioned it to the serpent, his newfound dream. It was the night after his day with Professor McGonagall at Diagon Alley, the day when he learned more about his parents than he had in his years at the Dursleys. Both his parents were brilliant Wizards and he did not want to disappoint them. He wanted to surpass them, he wanted to be better than the rest so his parents would be proud of him. He was emotional and perhaps that was why he had said it. But the Serpent had heard him and it had remembered and continued Harry's training with that in mind.
"I've found us a place where we can train to our heart's content and nobody will bother us" the snake went on. "It's on the seventh floor."
"When did you go up there?" Harry asked.
"In the week you were trying to familiarise yourself with the castle, I was doing the same. I'll take you there tonight after class."
"Aren't we supposed not to break curfew?"
"It will be breaking curfew if we are caught. We must bend the rules sometimes to excel further than the rest."
Harry nodded his head without any expression of note on his face. The serpent wasn't wrong, he had to give more effort than the rest if he was to be the best.
Harry put on his robes and tucked his wand in the back of it, the snake slithering up his leg and arm to finally curl up around his neck. He made his way out of the common room and up the steps to the common room.
The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire crackled under an elaborately carved mantelpiece which was adorned with a portrait of a serpent. The common room extended partway under the lake, giving the light in the room a green tinge. The common room had lots of low-backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas; skulls; and dark wood cupboards.
Harry found the place to be of a grand atmosphere, but also quite a cold one.
"I don't have classes till the evening" Harry said to his snake companion, "maybe I'll explore the school a bit more and learn where to go when and what to take to get to class."
Harry counted a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts. Some were wide and sweeping, some were narrow and rickety, some led somewhere different on a Friday, some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump.
Some doors wouldn't open unless asked nicely or tickled in very specific places, while some doors weren't doors at all. They were solid walls pretending to be doors if that made sense.
"Not a bad idea. However, I would suggest moving through the same corridors instead of going through corridors you have yet to visit. No use getting lost and unable to attend classes for the day."
Harry nodded his head at the wisdom of the animal's words before colliding against something large and hard. The boy stumbled, looked up and saw the blank face of Crabbe staring down at him.
"Sorry" Harry muttered, stepped to the side and found his path blocked once more. He looked at the boy with a raised brow.
"Potter" spoke a voice that did not belong to someone of the stature of Crabbe, because it was not the boy's voice. Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind the larger boy.
Draco's white-blonde hair was tightly slicked back, and cold grey eyes pinned on Harry.
"Malfoy," Harry said softly, "why are you blocking my way?"
"Because it is time we have a little chat. Join me."
Draco did not wait for Harry to reply, walking towards the sofas close to the fireplace. Harry watched the boy's receding back and then to the doors to the Common Room. But Vrabbe and Goyle blocked his path and Harry felt irritation build inside him. He turned and followed Draco.
The boy was standing before the burning fireplace, Zabini and Nott standing with him. The other two boys were watching Harry closely, eyes narrowed but not unkindly.
"I've been watching you closely Potter. For a pureblood, you don't act like one" the white-haired boy said with his pointed chin held high.
"I was raised by my muggle uncle and aunt" Harry replied. He was not liking Draco one bit. He was reminding Harry of Dudley before Harry broke Uncle Vernon's ankle accidentally.
Draco's eyes narrowed on the boy. "Explain."
It was less of a request and more of a demand.
"Voldemort killed my parents" Harry closed his eyes when all three boys before him sucked in a sharp hissing breath. He exhaled and ignored their reactions. "My aunt and uncle were the only family I had left."
"That must not have been a pleasant experience" Theo Nott commented not kindly.
"It was okay" Harry replied stiffly.
"You lack proper Pure Blood education" Draco stated, " and I can help you with that. You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort' He added smugly and held out his hand to shake Harry's.
Harry did not take his hand. Draco reminded him of Dudley, a bully who thought he was better than the rest.
"Take his hand Harry" the serpent whispered into Harry's mind.
And what? Join his gang of bullies? Thought Harry, words only for the snake to hear.
"Shaking hands in the Wizarding world is not some stupid gesture, Potter. By not shaking it you are risking insulting a family old and noble. Even if it's Malfoy's family. It's better to not antagonize him, not when he can be an asset for you in the future."
Harry frowned, his hand grasping Draco's hesitantly.
Asset? He thought to the serpent.
"You will find that not all people can be friends. Some are just there for you to use when you need them. Malfoy happens to be one of those kind."
I don't like the sound of that...
"We must do things that we do not like if only to be better than the rest. A harsh lesson but one you will be glad to learn."
"Double potions with the Gryffindor" Zabini stated with a crinkle of his nose.
"Is potions that bad a subject?" Harry asked. He was going down to potions with the rest after lunch, unwilling but there wasn't much else of a choice at the moment.
"It's not the class, Professor Snape is a brilliant man and a brilliant teacher. It's who we have it with" Draco explained with equal distaste on his face.
"They can't be that bad, we hardly know them."
"They're Gryffindors, that's enough to know them."
Harry held back the urge to roll his eyes at the comments. Just like Dudley's gang.
Potions lessons took place down in the dungeons, where it was colder than up in the main castle. Harry's eyes fell on the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the wall the moment he walked in, a shiver running down his spine. He did not like this place one bit.
The Gryffindors came in not long after the Slytherins, the two houses sitting on different rows of spaced-out benches. The Gryffindors stared at Harry as they filed in and Harry brushed his hair down over the scar on his forehead. That was what they were staring at, the scar left by the maniac that killed his family.
But they did not look like bad people.
Professor Snape walked in not long after the Gryffindors, his cape billowing behind him as if there was a gust of wind blowing opposite the direction he walked.
Like Professor Flitwick from Charms, Professor Snape started the class by taking the register, and like Professor Flitwick stopped at Harry's name. He lifted his gaze from the register to look Harry in the eyes. His eyes were cold, black and empty, like dark tunnels. The man said nothing and went back to roll call.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making" the man spoke after roll call, his voice barely more than a whisper but captured the attention of the entire class. Like Professor McGonagall. "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 its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, 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."
Silence followed the little speech. Harry looked around the room, at each face present. They were all sitting in pairs, boys with boys and girls with girls, divided by houses. Except for Harry, he was the only one without a partner since there were an odd number of students in Slytherin.
"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
The Professor was looking at Harry expectantly. He was asking Harry the question. But Harry did not know the answer. He did not remember reading it in the book he bought for class.
"Say what I say" the serpent on his shoulder whispered into his mind, hidden from the view of everyone.
"A sleeping potion called Draught of Living Death" Harry mimicked the voice in his head.
Surprise flickered in Professor Snape's eyes.
"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" he asked.
"The stomach of a goat" Harry spoke the words of the serpent.
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They are the same plant. Sir."
Professor Snape looked like he swallowed a lemon.
"Why are none of you taking notes?!" the man snapped and the scratching sound of quills followed soon after. "Next time, Potter, raise your hand before you answer a question not meant for you. I am leaving you with a warning this time."
Harry muttered his agreement.
"We will be brewing a simple potion today" The man tapped the chalkboard with his wand and writing appeared on it. The words 'Cure for Boils' appeared in bold and below it a series of instructions.
"Potter! You will pair with Longbottom since neither of you have partners."
Professor Snape was correct, Neville Longbottom was without a partner as well.
The boy in question walked over to Harry's table with his things, his face a mix of nerves.
"Hello again," Harry said with a smile. He did not know Neville beyond the boy's name and the fact that he had lost his toad on the train.
"Hello," Neville said meekly and set up with Harry.
"I have done some cooking at home, so I can take the stirring duties," Harry said. Neville nodded and the two began going over the instructions. Six snake fangs crushed to a fine powder, four measures of which were added to the cauldron. Heat the mixture for ten seconds and wave the wand. Harry lets Neville do the wand-waving. The duo left the mixture to brew, engaging in conversation while they waited for the next forty-five minutes.
"My Gran brought me up and she's a witch" Neville stated, "but the family thought I was all Muggle for ages. My great-uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me – he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, and I nearly drowned – but nothing happened until I was eight. Great-uncle Algie came round for tea and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my great-auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced down the garden and into the road. They were all pleased. Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here – they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great-uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."
"That sounds horrible" Harry muttered at the end of the story. Neville only shrugged. He looked slightly more at ease than before.
"I was brought up by my uncle and aunt, muggles both of them. They don't like magic" Harry said.
"That must have been hard. I've heard muggles like those can get nasty" Neville muttered.
"We ended up having an agreement" Harry answered with a smile.
The conversation moved to other wizarding things, Neville telling Harry all about Quidditch and whatnot. The game sounded interesting.
The time for waiting was soon at an end and the duo went back to their potion. Harry added four horned slugs to the cauldron and on instinct grabbed Neville's hand. The boy yelped and looked at him with wide eyes.
"The board says we have to take the cauldron off the fire before adding the next things" Harry explained. Neville looked at him sheepishly. The spectacled boy took the cauldron off the heat and Neville added the porcupine quills. Harry stirred it five times clockwise and Neville waved his wand over it.
The concoction turned blue and emitted pink smoke.
"I think we did it" Harry looked up from it with a grin. Neville mirrored his grin. They bottled two vials of it and took it to Professor Snape. The man looked it over, uncorked the vial and studied the smoke.
"Not bad" he corked the solution and dismissed the two.
"Thanks, Harry," Neville said when they returned to the desk.
"For what?" Harry asked.
"For being friendly and helping me out with this. I'm clumsy and a nervous wreck and everybody in my house knew it, so nobody wanted to partner up with me. Thank you for helping me today."
"An asset" the snake whispered in Harry's mind.
"A friend," Harry corrected the snake in his thoughts.
"Where exactly are you taking me?" Harry hissed to the snake on his shoulder.
"It's not too far from us now. Just make sure to hide when you hear something and keep an eye out for a painting of a man teaching trolls how to dance" the snake hissed back.
Night had fallen and curfew was upon them, yet Harry was sneaking through the corridors on the seventh floor of the school. The snake had taken him up there through secret passages that Harry was shocked to find. How many of them were there in the castle? Harry had the intense urge to explore them all.
"Stop!" Harry halted at the hiss. He feared that someone was coming, but he saw no one nor did he hear anyone. But what he did see was a man and some trolls on a painting. The trolls were trying to dance and failing horribly.
"Opposite empty wall. Walk in front of it thrice and think about a room to practice your magic" the snake instructed.
Harry did as asked, thinking about such a room, a big room with many targets to shoot spells at and books of spells he could learn from. He stopped on the third pace and noticed a door appearing on the wall.
"Walk in" the snake hissed.
Hesitantly Harry did the thing he was asked to do and found himself in a large room full of target boards and dummines, shelves of books and a foam mat-covered floor.
"Welcome to where you'll be honing your skills to their limits and beyond, the Room of Requirement!" the snake hissed.