The spread of food in the Great Hall was like nothing that Harry had ever seen before. He tried to avoid being too rude as he shoveled roast beef and mashed potatoes into his mouth.
He made sure to nod or make the appropriate noises as Hermione's ongoing narrative washed over him. He could tell that several of the other first year students were getting a bit annoyed with her for dominating the conversation, but he was more than content to listen while she dove into the theory behind one of their first transfiguration spells.
The rest of the first years were boring in comparison.
Harry couldn't help but glance up at the staff table. He had never observed the sparks of powerful witches and wizards before.
Professor McGonagall was a well-ordered library of magic with a unusual feline feel to her soul.
Professor Snape was a dark cloud of frustration, anger, spite and a deep depression that seemed to be carved into his very being.
Professor Flitwick was a lively tune with crackling fireworks, more powerful than his diminutive form would suggest.
However, all of them paled in comparison to Dumbledore.
The ancient headmaster put forth the image of a kindly old man, but to Harry he was a towering presence of roiling fire and darkness, barely contained by his flesh and the restrictions that he placed on himself. Equal and opposite, the endless flames within him held the bloodthirsty darkness at bay. Harry didn't know what to make of Dumbledore's contrary soul, but he knew that the powerful wizard would know if Harry let his magic flow freely. He wasn't sure if the headmaster was actually the good man that he pretended to be, and Harry was wary of drawing the attention of one of the few wizards that seemed to wield magic like he did.
Harry moved on to Professor Quirrell and almost dropped his fork in surprise.
His mark burned.
Quirrell's eyes snapped up and locked onto Harry's with unerring precision, reminding him far too much of the unnaturally fast movements of his demons when they caught his scent.
Harry frantically scanned the Great Hall for an attack, but none came. Quirrell's eyes slid away and he continued his conversation with Professor Snape.
Harry quickly retracted his power, but not before getting a brief vision of a cruel, pale face and glowing, evil red eyes.
What the hell was that?
...
Harry jumped as a large, brown owl landed on the table in front of him. He moved his bacon out of the potential danger zone while eyeing the bird curiously. He didn't think that he had anyone in the wizarding world to send him mail, but the owl was clearly holding its leg out with a note attached. Harry warily relieved it of its burden and unfolded the note.
His first week of magic school had been a mixed experience. It was undoubtedly interesting, being surrounded by fantastical events at every turn, but it was also surprisingly mundane. He took notes, teachers lectured, he laughed at Hermione's look of horrified indignation when he turned a toothpick into a needle on the first try in Professor McGonagall's class. Some of the teachers seemed to favor him while others seemed determined to treat him like everyone else, despite the whispering and hushed comments that followed him around the school. He was used to it from normal school. He wasn't particularly concerned with what the other students or teachers thought of him though; the Dursleys and the monster attacks had given him a thick skin, metaphorically and literally.
On the other hand, Harry was more than content to just bask in the soul of the ancient castle. It was already a habit for him to let his magic swirl around him, sensing and probing at the inherent magic ingrained in the stone and the endless enchantments applied over the centuries. He loved feeling the sparks of hundreds of witches and wizards and the almost blinding presence of Hogwarts herself. Diagon Alley was a thin stream of glowing magic compared to the veritable fountain of the ancient school. He sometimes felt that he could just let his magic loose to flood through the castle and spend hours observing and connecting with the enchanted stone. He may have done so, if not for Dumbledore and Quirrell.
Harry shivered at the memory of the malevolent eyes in the Defense professor's soul. He had resolved to keep a close eye on the outwardly timid defense professor ever since his interaction with the Mark, but so far nothing had come of it. Harry wasn't sure what to make of Quirrell and his strange soul, but until he knew more about magic as a whole, he decided to just try and stay below the professor's radar as much as possible.
Harry read the untidy scrawl in the note. The groundskeeper, Hagrid, was inviting him to lunch. Apparently, the huge man had known Harry's parents and wanted to get to know him and possibly tell him about them.
Harry wasn't sure what to think.
He had trouble identifying the emotions that bubbled to the surface when he thought about his parents. He didn't know them so he couldn't miss them, but there was still something potent there. An aching void where he wished for someone to talk to, someone to care about his worries and his monsters. He wondered what it would be like to come home to a hug after ripping off a demon's head or having his legs crushed instead of coming home to his empty cot under the stairs.
He wasn't entirely sure that he believed the hat when it said that he wasn't broken.
Looking up at the staff table and finding the giant man's gaze, Harry waved and gave him a thumbs up. Hagrid's kind weathered face wrinkled as he smiled and waved back. It didn't escape him that Hagrid must have sent the note so that Harry would get some kind of post with everyone else rather than just stopping by the table to chat.
He wasn't sure how to feel about that either and put it in the "unpack later" box.
The owl left as Hermione sat down on the bench across from him, dropping her overloaded bag of books and who knew what else beside her with a heavy thud. Harry smiled at her while she loaded her plate, looking a bit disheveled and glancing up to eye him warily.
Hermione was having a much rougher start to her magic school career than he was, for a variety of reasons. She wasn't the best at bonding with the rest of their classmates, and had been told off more than once by others for being bossy or a know-it-all. On top of that, she seemed torn between admiring Harry for beating her at all of their practical exercises and being eaten alive by her angry jealousy. It didn't help that he was the only one who enjoyed her attitude and didn't get mad when she tried to boss him around, but he also did whatever he wanted regardless of her acerbic ranting.
Harry could tell that she wasn't sure whether she actually liked him or not. But he liked her, so he would stick around until she told him to leave.
"Sooooo what's on the agenda today?" Harry asked, already knowing what her response would be.
"Coffee first," she said grumpily. "And you would know if you ever bothered to check your schedule."
Harry internally chuckled at her morning coffee ritual. He was sure that if it were anyone else, she would be pointing out that coffee stunts your growth if consumed regularly before puberty or something. Not that there was much actual coffee in there after all the cream and sugar she added.
Also, he totally knew the schedule for the whole day; it was just more fun to mess with Hermione. One of the perks of his power was an excellent memory when he let his magic saturate his brain. He should probably look that up at some point, now that he thought of it.
"Sure sure," he said, "but isn't it more fun to keep a bit of mystery?"
She gave him a flat look, clearly indicating that no, Hermione did not like any amount of mystery whatsoever. She spent the majority of her time trying to remove as many mysteries as possible from her life. He was sure that a less charitable person would call her a control freak, and they wouldn't be wrong, but Harry liked it.
She sighed in his general direction. "Double potions, then the afternoon off. I hope that you actually reviewed your potions book; the professor is apparently really strict and biased towards Slytherin. Besides, Potions is all about knowledge and technique. You can't bluff your way through with whatever crazy wand skills you use to cheat in every other class, Mr. Prodigy." she gave him another glare and Harry grinned cheekily back at her. He was sure that she would eventually work through whatever envy or self-esteem issues were making her shoot steam out of her ears when he beat her in class, but it was kinda fun in the meantime.
"Do you want to go visit Hagrid the groundskeeper with me? He invited me to tea at 3:00."
Hermione looked unsure, but she nodded before her face lit up. "He must see all kinds of different magical creatures and plants in the forbidden forest! I wonder if.." And off she went, speculating about the myriad of potential flora and fauna that may be present on the grounds. Harry grinned wider and returned to his bacon, content to let her excited voice wash over him.
...
"I just cannot believe that the school allows that kind of behavior from the staff, especially a Head of House!" Hermione exclaimed, continuing her ongoing and escalating rant against the unpleasant potions professor.
Harry tried not to chuckle out loud since that would just serve to aim her frustration at him rather than Snape. The greasy man's favoritism and pointed hatred of Harry personally were a bit irritating, but nothing outside of his experiences with some teachers in mundane school and definitely nothing on the Dursleys. If Snape wanted to let Harry live rent-free in his head for any longer than necessary, Harry was inclined to let him knock himself out. Hermione was apparently not as forgiving.
They made their way down the rocky castle grounds towards Hagrid's hut, a small round wooden cabin on the edge of the forbidden forest. Harry eyed the trees warily and kept his senses on high alert, magical and normal. He had been more relaxed this week than he had in years, but he never forgot about the hungry red eyes waiting for him outside the castle walls. He hoped that his demons couldn't follow him into the castle grounds, but he was a cynic and old habits die hard.
Harry eyed the crossbow leaning beside the door and briefly considered trying to get ahold of one for himself before deciding against it. Definitely not worth it, even if it looked pretty cool. He knocked on the large wooden door and tensed slightly at the booming barks and scrabbling that erupted on the other side before the door opened to reveal the massive groundskeeper holding back an equally large black dog. At least the hound looked more enthusiastic than dangerous, but Harry had seen a few too many glowing red eyes in similar faces to let his guard down completely.
"Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed, managing to push the dog back and gesturing for them to come inside. "Make yourselves at home." He closed the door behind them and let the black boarhound loose, who proceeded to sniff Harry and Hermione enthusiastically before ambling back over to a massive dog bed in the corner.
"Don' mind Fang, he jus' gets a bit excited. Not too many visitors down here an' all. I'm Hagrid, keeper of the Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts. Pleased to meet 'cha."
Harry couldn't help but grin up at the giant man. He seemed very easy to like. "I'm Harry, and this is Hermione. I hope you don't mind that I brought her along."
"O' course not, more the merrier." Hagrid said, starting on the tea and putting together a plate of cakes. "How's yer firs' week going?"
Harry and Hermione filled Hagrid in on their first few days of classes while they nibbled on the rock-hard cakes. Hermione quickly started asking Hagrid about the residents of the forbidden forest and Hagrid was very excited to talk about some of his "beauties". While they chatted, Harry caught sight of a cutting from the Daily Prophet that Hagrid had obviously saved.
A break-in at Gringotts? I guess someone else also felt tempted by their little challenge. Looks like they got away with it too. Harry thought, skimming the article. They broke into an empty vault though. I wonder if whoever's it was knew that the thief was coming?
Harry shrugged and tuned back into Hermione and Hagrid's discussion, wondering to himself why Hagrid had bothered to save the article about a random break in.
...
Harry tried his best not to bounce in place while he waited for the class to start. He had been looking forward to this since Malfoy mentioned flying in Madam Malkin's. Despite all of his abilities, Harry hadn't yet figured out how to fly under his own power. He could catch and push objects with his power, but it didn't seem to work well on his own body. He wanted to fly. Just the idea of his feet leaving the stable ground and soaring free and unchained through the sky made him slightly giddy.
The students milled around while they waited to start their first flying lesson, Madam Hooch laying out the school brooms on the ground in two rows.
"Attention everyone, please stand by a broom and we'll get started. Come on, Hurry up!"
As she instructed everyone to say Up, Harry looked down the row at Hermione. She looked decidedly apprehensive and a bit green. She definitely did not share his excitement for the upcoming lesson and had made it clear at breakfast this morning during the brief moments she tore her nose out of Quidditch Through the Ages. He heard her say "Up!" As confidently as she could, but her broom just rolled around on the ground a bit.
She glanced at Harry, and he couldn't help but mess with her a little bit. It was just so easy. Hopefully she would see it as friendly banter as he intended, and not start to actually hate him at some point.
He allowed his magic to flow into the broom, its spark feeling similar to his wand even if it had a different purpose and a different type of connection. His wand was HIS, but the broom was just a tool. Its magic fell eagerly in line with his own as it sought to fulfill its purpose and it flew obediently into his hand.
Harry winked at Hermione and tried very hard not to laugh at the expression of shocked exasperation on her face before she recovered enough to level an angry and envious glare at him. He mostly succeeded.
Looking down the row, Harry idly observed the rest of the class trying to connect with their brooms. Madam Hooch then showed them how to properly mount their brooms, which apparently had some type of charms included that made it much more comfortable than it should be and walked around correcting their grips and positioning.
She started to explain the instructions when things went a bit pear shaped. Neville must have been too nervous, or he panicked, but he went from shaking and stock still on the ground to screaming and thirty feet in the air before anyone could react. Harry pulled his power to the surface and considered his next moves even as Neville tipped sideways off of the rebellious broom, falling quickly towards the hard ground.
Harry didn't want to give away his abilities in such a public way, especially in front of the Slytherins. But he still tried to slow Neville down as much as he could without making a scene, wrapping him in his power as he hit the ground with a muffled THUD. Despite his efforts, he heard a crack as the boy landed on his wrist wrong.
"Broken wrist," Madam Hooch said after bustling over to him. "I'm taking him to the hospital wing. Do not move while I'm gone, and don't even think about getting on any of those brooms or you'll be on the train home before dinner."
She and Neville were barely out of sight before Malfoy opened his stupid mouth.
"That was fantastic, best entertainment all week. Did you see his face? I heard that the only magic he can do is bouncing after his uncle threw him out a window, pity he didn't bounce this time!" Malfoy cackled along with the other Slytherins as Harry glared at him. He couldn't help himself.
"Is it too much to ask that we get five minutes of peace without you taking a verbal shit, Malfoy?" Harry said, ignoring Hermione's scandalized gasp at his language.
"Defending squibs now too, Potter? Isn't it enough that you've decided to lower yourself to being seen with her?" Malfoy sneered, pointing his chin at Hermione without actually looking at her. Apparently, it had been long enough since the train that Malfoy had forgotten his fear, or at least convinced himself to ignore it.
Harry was about to respond when Malfoy bent down and grabbed a small round sphere from the grass.
"Hey, it's the thing that lump's grandmother sent him. Guess it didn't help him remember to stay on his broom." The rest of the Slytherins laughed as Harry dropped his broom and approached the green clad group.
"Give it to me, Malfoy." Harry said, his voice taking on a dark edge as he held out his hand.
Malfoy looked a bit apprehensive for a moment before he steeled himself and grinned evilly. "Don't worry, I'll leave it somewhere easy for him to find. Maybe on the roof?"
Malfoy leapt onto his broom and zoomed away faster than Harry thought possible on the shabby looking school brooms. Apparently, the blond asshole hadn't been lying about his flying skills, he didn't look at all unsteady as he gained altitude. Harry growled under his breath and stuck his hand out for the broom he had thrown on the ground.
"No!" Hermione yelled at him. "Don't let him get to you, you'll get expelled, and I'll be all a-" She cut herself off even as Harry started to run after Malfoy. His magic connected with the broom effortlessly, calling to him as he took a flying leap and…
He was flying.
Harry's heart soared in his chest as he mounted the broom midair and let his power flow into it, the broom singing underneath him as he spiraled into the sky with reckless abandon. He channeled more magic into it and the broom's spark seemed to hum with approval as he rocketed away with a dull thump of compressed air and he was fifty feet, a hundred feet above the ground in a blink of an eye. He was free, the wind tugging at his robes, whipping through his perpetually messy hair and his magic roaring in an invisible tornado around him as he corkscrewed and twisted towards the heavens.
This was so much better than he had imagined. He was free, he was singular, he was triumphant. His worries and problems seemed like ants from this height, and the sky only beckoned with further promises.
This was where he belonged.
He couldn't help but let out a wild, whooping yell as he launched himself off his broom at the apex of his climb, flipping and tumbling through the sky without a care as he slowed and started to fall back to earth. With minimal thought he called to his broom with his magic and it returned to him, slotting back underneath him with natural ease as he searched for Malfoy.
He didn't realize just how high he had made it in those brief seconds. Malfoy was only about forty feet off the ground, hundreds of feet below him, staring up at Harry with a look of terrified shock on his face.
Harry grinned darkly as he descended on Malfoy like a hawk, quickly catching up to the blond and spinning abruptly to face him, both of them hanging still in the air.
"Does it help?" Harry asked idly.
"W-what?" Malfoy said, his eyes still wide with some mix of anger, jealousy and fear as Harry drifted closer to him.
"Does being an insufferable asshole help you forget just how pathetic you are underneath?" Harry asked, keeping his tone light and his face unconcerned as Malfoy turned purple.
"If you want the damn thing so badly, you can have it then!" Malfoy yelled, rearing back and throwing the glass sphere as hard as he could across the sky.
Harry just shook his head and lazily channeled more power into his broom, pulling back and zooming away in a lazy loop. His power easily identified the orb and he slowed it enough to make snagging it from the air easy. He leaned back on his broom and sighed with contentment. He was just glancing up towards where Malfoy used to be and looked towards the ground when he didn't see him and-
"HARRY POTTER!"
Well shit.
Notes:
This chapter has been partially rewritten after finishing the story because I didn't like how I originally structured it. So if you are rereading or reading for the first time, rejoice! You get a slightly higher quality product than the original posting. Feedback, criticism, and comments are much appreciated. Don't let that one scene where Harry casts Lumos in his bedroom on Privet Drive ruin your day. I don't own Harry Potter. Toodles!
