New Bonds
Harry was lost. He fished the train ticket from his pocket and looked at it dumbly. He was at King's Cross Station, with five minutes to go until the Hogwarts Express would leave for Scotland, but he had no idea how to get onto the platform. 'Nine and three quarters, nine and three quarters…' he kept repeating in his head, as if the platform would pop up out and surprise him. Maybe he would have to use his wand, like Hagrid had done to find Diagon Alley. But where would he do it?
Harry was beginning to get rather desperate, with his wand already clutched in his right hand when he heard a voice.
"Come on, hurry up. We don't want the muggles to think anything strange now, do we?"
Harry turned around. It was a red-haired woman, followed by a lot of red-haired children.
"Go on then Fred?" she said.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said a lanky boy.
"Seriously woman, you call yourself our mother," said another lanky boy, identical to the previous one.
"Oh, I'm sorry George," the woman said.
"Only joking Mum, I am Fred," the boy replied, running straight into a brick wall ahead of him, but instead of colliding into it, he appeared to pass straight through.
His twin was next, also finding no problem running through the wall. They were followed by two more boys, one rather tall and the other a lot smaller.
Harry approached the wall with uncertainty.
"Is it your first time?" the woman said, smiling at him warmly.
"Yeah," Harry replied meekly.
"Just run straight through, you'll be fine," she said encouragingly.
"Ok," Harry replied, returning the smile. "Thank you."
He stared at his target with determination. The Heir of Gryffindor would not be outdone by a brick wall. He started his run, forcing any thoughts of collision out of his mind as he and his trolley accelerated. Soon, he was running at top speed, the wall becoming closer by the second. And just when Harry thought he was going to crash into it and send his things flying, he found himself still running. The wall was behind him, and in front of him was a large, black steam train, smoke spitting out from its chimney.
Families were hugging and crying as their children left to board the Express; Harry laughed at the thought of the Dursleys doing something similar with him.
He got on the train, trying to find an empty compartment. Many of the older years had already met up with their peers. Harry wondered if he would be making any friends without Dudley around to squash anyone who tried to talk to him.
Harry was almost at the back of the train when he finally managed to find an unoccupied compartment. He sat down and looked out of the window beside him - the people outside were beginning to wave.
There was a knock on the door.
A ginger, freckled boy whom Harry recognised from earlier had entered. "Sorry," he began. "Can I sit here? It's just that everywhere else is full."
"Sure."
The boy sat opposite to him, nervously offering his hand. "Ron Weasley."
"Harry Potter," he replied, taking his hand.
The boy gasped. "Woah. Do you really have a scar — on your head?" he asked.
"I do. Don't look at me like that. I'm very ordinary," Harry lied.
Ron flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to — I guess - I mean…."
They sat in an awkward silence for a bit. Ron waved at his mother and sister through the window as the train slowly pushed forward, embarking on its long journey.
Harry pulled out Hogwarts: A History, flicking to where he had left off.
"So… you've been abroad, right?"
Harry looked up. "Pardon?"
"That's what everyone thinks, after You-Know-Who…"
"Really? Everyone thinks that?"
"Well, maybe not everyone… Actually it was Mum who said that whenever Ginny asked, I think —- yeah… never mind…"
Ron was fidgeting a lot now.
"I've been living with my muggle family," Harry said, putting his book down. "I didn't know I was a wizard until a couple months ago."
"That must have been so strange. To find out you're a wizard as if you were a muggleborn."
"It was even more strange finding out I was famous on top of that," Harry replied. "You have siblings here?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah. Percy, Fred and George. Bill and Charlie came here before as well, and Ginny will be here next year."
"That's a lot of siblings," Harry said.
"Tell me about it. Fred and George even taught me some magic."
Ron had gotten his wand out when someone knocked on the door. A girl with a large mane of bushy brown hair entered their compartment.
"Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost his," she said.
"No, sorry," Harry said. The girl was about to leave, but then noticed Ron.
"Are you going to do magic?" she asked. "Let's see." She took a seat beside Harry.
Ron, with a look of determination, shouted, "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
Nothing happened.
"I don't think that's a real spell," she pointed out. "I'm Hermione Granger." She offered her hand to both Harry and Ron, who introduced themselves.
"I've read about you," she told Harry.
"Have you know," Harry said with disinterest.
She seemed to notice his less-than-enthusiastic tone.
"Sorry," she said, looking down at her lap.
Harry looked at her worriedly. He placed his hand on her shoulder, and gave her a smile. "Don't be. I should be sorry."
She looked at him with surprise.
"I'm sorry too," Ron added.
"Why?" Hermione asked.
"I dunno. Felt a little left out."
Harry and Hermione both chuckled.
"Thank you for your help." she smiled at them both brightly. "I'm going to carry on looking for Neville's toad. You won't mind if I come back though, will you?"
"Not at all," Harry replied.
Soon, the lunch trolley came round, and Harry decided it would be nice to buy as much food as he could. Ron approved of this choice.
An hour later, Hermione returned, this time with a slightly chubby boy beside her. Harry introduced himself, pleased to find the boy didn't seem too bothered by his celebrity status and seemed more worried about his toad.
"Hello Neville," Ron said familiarly, to which Neville greeted back.
"I didn't realise you two knew each other," Hermione said, taking a seat.
"Our families are friends," Ron explained, his mouth full of treacle tart.
"Don't worry," Harry told the anxious boy as he searched their compartment agitatedly. "Your toad will turn up eventually."
Neville nodded and took a seat. "Sorry, it's just Gran would kill me if I lost him."
Harry was now flicking through The Standard Book of Spells. He had memorised all the theory for every spell as Godric had instructed him to, so he was sure he would have no problem casting them.
"Have you managed any yet?" Hermione asked with interest. "I've managed to do a couple, but I reckon it'll be easier to learn with a teacher."
"Hopefully, they won't be a problem," Harry said.
Without warning, he flicked his wand at Ron's rat, "Wingardium Leviosa." The rat floated off Ron's lap, hanging in the air for a bit before Harry let him down.
"That was incredible!" Ron exclaimed. "How'd you do it?"
"That was really impressive," Hermione agreed. "I haven't got to that one yet."
"Could you teach me how to do that?" Neville asked.
The rest of their journey passed rather quickly. Harry had attempted to teach some spells to his new friends; Hermione seemed to pick them up with ease, though Neville and Ron struggled. Tired from their efforts, they relaxed for the rest of the ride, eating and laughing the time away. Soon they found themselves pulling up at Hogsmeade Station, the sky blackening rapidly.
Excitably, they joined their fellow students as they made their way off the train, and Harry was pleased to find Hagrid waiting for them.
"Firs' years, this way," he said, leading them down a separate path from the rest of the students.
They arrived at a cluster of small wooden boats, docked beside a large, misty lake.
"Four to a boat," Hagrid shouted as he entered one himself, threatening to sink the thing.
Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione hopped in, rubbing their hands to bring them some warmth in the biting chill. When Hagrid raised his hand, the oars of the boats began to move, directing them down the lake.
The ride was slow and eerie as they approached a bend, with the first years muttering in anticipation.
Illuminated by the pale moonlight, the castle stood impressively in the distance, the towers peeking out from the main building and the windows lit by a warm yellow.
Harry felt his magic swell at the sight of the building, pulsing through him fiercely. There was a sense of familiarity as Hogwarts greeted Harry. The castle was alive.
Soon, the boats had run out of lake, and the once distant castle was now upon them. Hagrid got out, counting everyone to make sure no one had been lost.
"Right then, follow me," he said, leading them up a path to the main entrance.
Upon entry, they were enveloped with a welcoming warmth. Hagrid led them to the doors of the main hall as they looked around appreciatively at their remarkable new home. A skinny, stern looking woman was waiting for them, a roll of parchment in her hands.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.
She stepped forward importantly and addressed them. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."
The large wooden doors swung open as the first years nervously followed McGonagall down the Great Hall. The older students had already taken their seats and were now looking at them as they approached the front of the Hall, where all of the teachers were sitting.
Harry looked up, marvelling at the velvety black sky, dotted with stars.
"It's bewitched," Hermione said. "I read about it in-"
"-Hogwarts: A History. I read the same." Harry tried not to laugh as Hermione's face flushed.
McGonagall had set up a stool at the front, placing a ragged pointed hat on top. It seemed to twitch a little, before revealing a crease in its fabric as its mouth and bursting into song. All his fellow first years were paying attention to the hat's words as if their lives depended on it, but Harry knew better. This was just the Sorting Hat.
Once the Hat had finished exercising its vocals, the entire hall erupted into applause. McGonagall unrolled the parchment in her hand and started calling out names in alphabetical order.
The first of Harry's friends to be called was Hermione, who ran up eagerly and was sorted into Gryffindor. Neville followed straight afterwards, though he sat on the stool for a bit longer. Nevertheless, he joined Hermione on the Gryffindor table.
Patiently, Harry waited until his name was called. A pin drop could have been heard as the Boy-Who-Lived stepped up.
As soon as the Hat was placed on his head, it started chuckling.
"It's nice to meet you Gentry."
Gentry just continued to laugh. "I was beginning to think no one would ever be worthy, but here you are."
"I felt the castle bonding with me," Harry thought. "It was incredible."
"Hogwarts is here to serve you. Though I must add, the Godric in that book of yours looks about fifty years younger than I last remember him."
Harry laughed inwardly. "I think you should sort me now. Everyone's getting anxious."
"Yes. However, if you are ever in need of assistance…"
"I know."
And with that, Gentry jumped off Harry's head and yelled "GRYFFINDOR!"
The table at the right celebrated with relief, clapping and cheering as Harry rushed over. He shook hands with many of his fellow Gryffindors, and the Weasley twins were repeatedly chanting "We got Potter!" enthusiastically. Eventually, the bubble of frenzy died down, allowing Harry to take a seat by Neville and Hermione.
Ron was called soon after and also sorted into Gryffindor. Gentry vanished from the stool and Dumbledore rose from his seat. Silence fell at the raise of his hand.
"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
He sat back down, queueing another round of applause.
The plates on the long tables filled with piles of food and drink. Ron was already halfway up the table, stacking as many plates as he could carry. He collapsed beside Harry, wasting no time as he started shoving grub down his mouth.
Hermione wrinkled her nose at the sight of him. "Could you eat any faster?"
Ron shrugged. "I can try."
Neville, on the other hand, was picking his meal rather carefully, looking scared at everything he touched.
"What's wrong Neville?" Harry asked.
"Gran doesn't like me eating too much. She says I'm too flabby," the boy replied, unable to look away from his lap.
"That's not very nice." Hermione commented. "You can eat what you like, Neville."
Neville didn't reply, but he did add some extra potatoes on his plate with a hint of a smile.
Harry finished his food happily. Godric hadn't lied when he had said the house elves knew how to cook.
The vanishing of the food left Ron whimpering like an upset dog, but his enthusiasm returned when the table was filled once more with a luxurious assortment of desserts. Harry grabbed an apple, as he knew Godric would disapprove of him violating his new diet.
After everyone was stuffed, Dumbledore rose from his seat once again. "Ahern - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
And with that, they were dismissed.
"First years, this way," said a red-haired boy Harry recognised as one of Ron's brothers.
"Percy's a prefect," Ron said darkly. "As if he couldn't be more of a knob!"
"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed as Harry and Neville both laughed.
Percy led them through many secret doors and passageways, though he seemed surprised as they found the Common Room relatively quickly.
"Weird, the staircases are usually more troublesome."
Harry knew the reason; Hogwarts was already looking after him.
"Password?" asked a rather fat woman in a portrait.
"Caput Draconis," said Percy, resulting in the portrait swinging open. "You'll do best to remember that, otherwise you won't be allowed in," he told the first years, who worriedly repeated the password.
The Common Room was very nice, filled with cosy armchairs, couches and a blazing fireplace for warmth.
The three boys said goodbye to Hermione as they went up the boys dormitories and trudged up a spiralling staircase. They found their room, which they would share with a loud Irish boy named Seamus Finnigan. Harry changed into his pyjamas and jumped into bed, waiting for the other boys to turn their lights out.
Once he thought the coast was clear, he pulled out a book from his trunk and opened it. Moments later, he was looking at Godric.
"This is new," Harry said as he looked around. They were in a small room decorated with portraits and maps. Godric was sitting behind a desk cluttered with parchment and extravagant ornaments.
"The book does have other pages," Godric replied, his green eyes blazing. "Did you feel it?" he asked, to which Harry nodded.
"I still feel it now." Harry took a seat, grinning at Godric's elation. "Gentry was pleased. He said you looked younger than he last remembered though."
Godric's beam disappeared. "I believed I would make a better impression on my heir with a more favourable appearance."
"If you say so," Harry chuckled.
"Made any friends then?"
"Three so far."
"Any old families?" Godric asked. "It would be useful to have powerful allies," he added at Harry's look.
"The boys are purebloods," Harry answered. "The Weasleys don't seem very wealthy and the Longbottoms are an Ancient and Noble House. The girl is a muggleborn."
"Remember to choose your friends wisely."
"You think I could do better?"
"I do not know. That's up to you."
Harry crossed his arms. "Ron is funny… Neville is a little shy, but very nice… Hermione is smart and…"
Godric raised an eyebrow as Harry flushed. "Ah, I see."
"Oh, be quiet. I like my friends a lot. There was something about a corridor on the third floor though. Know anything about it?"
Godric stroked his beard curiously. "Nothing I recall," he replied. "Let Hogwarts guide you."
Harry nodded, stifling a yawn. "I think I'll call it a night."
"Don't sleep in," Godric said. "The beds are very comfy."
"I'll be the judge of that."
"I bid you goodnight, Harold."
"Goodnight, Mr Gryffindor."
Harry walked out of the office and slumped back into his bed. He shut the book, tucking it safely in his trunk and snuggled into the sheets with a smile on his face.
It was early when Harry entered the Great Hall the next day, and he was surprised to find Hermione already at the Gryffindor table. She was talking to Professor McGonagall with a giddy look on her face.
"Ah, Potter," McGonagall said as he sat down. "Your timetable." She handed him a slip of parchment.
"Thank you," he said with a smile, though the stern woman didn't return it.
"Morning Hermione," he said.
"Morning," she replied.
"What's up with her?"
"Don't be silly, Professor McGonagall is lovely."
Harry scoffed.
"How come you're up so early?" she asked.
"Morning run," he replied. Godric had encouraged him to exercise regularly to build up his endurance. "What about you?"
"I woke up early and I couldn't go back to sleep," she replied meekly.
"I get it," Harry said, smiling at her. "First day of learning about magic. It's pretty exciting."
She gave him a small smile back. "I'm heading up to the library soon. I read it was quite impressive in-"
"-Hogwarts: A History," Harry interjected.
Hermione went pink.
"We can check it out together, if you would like?" Harry asked.
"Yeah I would," she replied shyly.
They finished breakfast quickly and made for the library.
"How do you know the way?" Hermione asked as Harry took a swift turn down another isolated corridor.
"Just a feeling," Harry said. Hogwarts' magic was tugging him along.
"Are you sure? Because I'd hate to get lost. I mean, what if we go the wrong way and never find the way out, and then miss all our lessons — or what if we head down the third floor corridor Professor Dumbledore told us not to and die! Oh Harry, maybe we should just turn back. We can visit the library once we know the way."
Harry stopped and looked bemusedly at Hermione. "You worry too much. None of that's going to happen, I promise. And besides, we're already here."
"We are?" Hermione asked. She adjusted her expression when she realised they were standing right next to the library's entrance.
She opened the door, stepping in tentatively. The library itself was huge, with an endless array of dusty shelves stacked with books that looked like they'd never been touched.
Hermione had stopped to absorb everything in front of them. "It's amazing, isn't it?" she gasped.
"Yeah, it is," Harry said, his gaze fixed on Hermione.
She moved forwards to explore the stacked volumes. Every now and again, she would stop and squeal slightly at a book, or point out something she found interesting to Harry.
"Wow! There's an entire section on Merlin. There's probably so much detail here compared to what I learned in school," she whispered excitedly.
"I'd love to research him as well. If he is the greatest wizard to have ever lived, there's probably a lot I can learn from him to grow stronger," Harry whispered back, picking out a book. "We should come back here later."
He was wiping the dust from the cover when he noticed Hermione's expression had changed.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said, blushing slightly. "It's just I've never had someone want to read books with me."
Harry gave her another smile. "You know, I've never really had friends before," he admitted.
Hermione's eyes widened. "You are not what I expected, Harry."
He laughed. "You thought I'd be more of a prick, is what you mean."
"No!" she said, scandalised.
Harry just shook his head. "Come on, we should get out of here. We don't want to be late for our first lesson."
The classroom was empty when they entered. Sitting on top of the front desk was a tabby cat, observing them beadily as they picked a desk.
Soon, they were joined by the rest of the class.
"Where were you?" Ron asked, as he and Neville took the desk beside them.
"In the library," Harry replied.
Ron gave a disapproving look and was about to say something back, but faltered when the tabby cat at the front spectacularly transformed into Professor McGonagall.
"Wicked!" Ron said.
"Indeed. Settle down," she said, despite the fact she had just stunned everyone into silence. As McGonagall outlined the curriculum, Harry flicked through his textbook.
Hermione was muttering next to him.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked.
"Checking my memory."
"Your memory?"
"The spells. Haven't you memorised them?" Hermione asked.
"That's not how spells work."
Before Hermione could reply, McGonagall flicked her wand and matchsticks were handed out to each student. Their task was to transfigure it into a needle.
Everyone pointed the wands with trepidation, flicking and chanting as specified in the book.
"Parva Mutatio." Harry's matchstick transformed into a perfect needle.
Hermione looked over enviously, but did not say anything. Instead she began flicking and chanting more vigorously, constantly looking back at the book.
"Hermione, you need to relax your wrist," Harry said.
She looked over sharply. "What do you mean? The book says-"
"-to flick with a slight anticlockwise turn in the wrist, I know. Just… trust me."
"I don't understand."
Harry turned to look at Hermione. He was about to repeat the first lecture Godric had ever given him about spells. "These books - I know them inside out as I'm sure you do. But the stuff in it, the instructions they give to perform spells, I think they should be seen more as guidelines than actual specifics-"
"-But that's-"
"-Hermione," Harry pleaded.
She bit her tongue and nodded.
"Your magic is different to mine and any other witch or wizard. It is unique to yourself, and only you can know how to use it. So focus on your magic, feel it as it connects with your wand as you perform the movements. It isn't about how well you say the words or wave your wand, it's about how you channel your magic. Does that make sense?"
Hermione nodded slowly. She took a deep breath and pointed her wand at the matchstick once again. "Parva Mutatio."
Harry felt pleased when he saw Hermione's wrist relax, then elated when he realised that the spell had worked as well.
She turned to him, beaming.
"How did you do that?" Ron asked as he repeatedly stabbed his matchstick with his wand. Neville had just realised he was holding his the wrong way.
"It's a wand Ronald, not a knife," Hermione sighed exasperatedly, to which he pulled a face in reply.
"Well done! Twenty points to Gryffindor each!" said Professor McGonagall as she made her way over to Harry and Hermione. "Two perfect needles, in just under five minutes. I haven't had success like this in the first lesson since your father," she told Harry.
"Really?" Harry said, perking up. "So he was good at Transfiguration?"
"One of my finest students. Let's hope you two follow." She gave them a rare smile before moving on to aid Ron and Neville.
Herbology was relatively easy compared to their last lesson, as there was less theory to write down and more practical work. Harry and Hermione worked well enough, though they were bested by Neville and Ron this time.
"That was really impressive," Hermione said as they explored the grounds during their break time.
"It was all Neville, to be honest," Ron admitted. "He's got a real knack for plants."
Neville was looking away distractedly, though he kept smiling for the rest of their break.
Harry was rather looking forward to their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. It was the theory he had enjoyed studying the most when he was at the Dursleys, so he was hoping the lessons would live up to his expectations.
However, he found himself thoroughly disappointed.
When they entered the Defence classroom, they were greeted by a strong whiff of garlic. Professor Quirrell was very jittery, jumping at the slightest of sounds. He barely managed to get his words out, and would seemingly freeze at the mention of dark magic. It was quite inconvenient, seeing as they were meant to be learning how to defend themselves from it.
"Did you manage to get some notes?" Neville asked worriedly to his friends as they made their way to Charms.
"Not as much as I'd hoped," Hermione said disappointedly.
Professor Flitwick's teaching was much more instructive. He was quite small, being half-man, half-goblin, though he had impressed Harry the most out of his Professors so far with his magical ability. Harry soon discovered that Ron was rather inept at magic, and though Neville tried he didn't do much better. Harry was miles ahead of all his other peers, with only Hermione coming close to keeping up with him.
Lunch passed relatively quickly, with Hermione running off to the library again, and Ron attempting to teach Harry and Neville how to play wizards' chess.
The final class of the day was Potions. The young Lions weren't in great spirits as they headed down to the dungeons; the older Gryffindors had warned them of Snape's less than patient teaching style. To make matters worse, they shared this class with the Slytherins.
Silence fell as soon as Snape entered his classroom. He had a pale, long face and greasy, black hair.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. "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."
Hermione was on the edge of her seat, apparently captivated by his enticing words. Harry, on the other hand, was staring at Snape coldly. They had locked eyes.
"Potter," Snape drawled. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry continued to stare as the entire class turned to him, waiting for an answer. "The Draught of Living Death," he replied. That wasn't in the first year syllabus, and he had only known it thanks to his shopping spree at Flourish and Blotts.
"And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" he asked again.
"In the stomach of a goat," Harry said, now annoyed. Snape, however, looked determined.
"Can you tell me the-"
"-Sir," Harry interrupted. This was getting ridiculous. "May I ask why you are asking me all of these questions, since you aren't interrogating anyone else, as well as the fact that none of this is covered in the first year curriculum?"
Many of Harry's fellow Gryffindors were looking at him appreciatively, though the Slytherins looked shocked that someone would dare answer back to their Head of House.
Snape's bottom lip curled slightly. "Are you questioning my teaching methods, Potter?"
Harry paused for a moment. "Yes."
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, for arrogance worthy of a celebrity like yourself," he snapped.
Harry was about to stand up to retort angrily, but he was held back by a hand on his knee. It was Hermione.
"It's not worth it," she whispered to him, though she looked just as angry as he was.
Harry heeded her words, choosing to sulk in his chair instead as Snape made his way to the blackboard, jotting instructions down.
The potion they had to brew was easy enough, though Harry had to correct Neville every now and again to save him the embarrassment of blowing up his cauldron.
"Acceptable," Snape commented as he inspected Harry's perfect potion with intense scrutiny. Harry just looked at him angrily as the thin man moved on to Malfoy's less than impressive potion, marking it as exceptional.
As everyone was packing up to leave, Harry knocked his cauldron over, the contents spilling over the floor.
"No, it's fine," Harry said as Hermione came over to help him clean up. "I'll catch up with you."
She looked at him suspiciously. "You shouldn't," she said, assuming Harry's intentions.
"I just need to have a word," Harry replied.
She left with reluctance, the worry not leaving her face. Harry vanished the potion, returning the cauldron to his desk. Only he and Snape were left in the room.
"Self-importance Potter, something that plagued your father as well. It appears you are just as egocentric and obnoxious as he w-"
"Listen, Professor," Harry interrupted. "I've never liked bullies so if I'm to continue in your lessons, this can't go on."
Snape looked livid. He quickly closed the gap between them, his long neck craning down at his student. "Believe me Potter, I would be glad if you chose to leave my class."
Harry met Snape's gaze, his green eyes flashing menacingly.
"I don't know you, sir, but this doesn't make sense to me. You didn't like my father, so now you don't want to teach me? Well that's unfortunate, but you want to know what I think? I envy you.
I envy the fact that you got to meet my father, and you have memories of him. Because guess what? I wasn't so lucky. I don't know if I'm as egocentric or as obnoxious as him, like you remember, because I didn't get to know him.
And what of my mother? Was she rude, or annoying, or arrogant? Did you know her as well?"
Snape's look of menace faltered.
"I suggest you forget about your past issues with my parents because I'm not going to let it affect my learning, and you know for a fact I would never quit this lesson! The Gryffindor in me wouldn't allow it!" Harry finished.
He grabbed his stuff and stormed out of the classroom, somewhat satisfied with the abashed look on Snape's face. Either that had gone really well or horribly wrong.
He felt his magic flourish, coursing through his veins almost soothingly. Hogwarts was branching out to him, trying to calm him down.
"Thanks," Harry whispered.
Everyone was at dinner, but Harry wasn't feeling all that hungry.
You know what I'm looking for. The castle responded accordingly. He felt his magic tug in random directions, making him walk up certain alleyways and staircases. After a while, he stopped at a large wooden door, in a cold part of the building that made Harry think that nobody had been here in a very long time.
Well, this is it.
Hesitantly, he pushed the door open. On the other side was a grand room fit for a mansion, with crimson and gold draping and voluptuous furniture. Large paintings danced on the walls and a golden chandelier shimmered in the centre of the room.
A house-elf popped out of nowhere. It wore a plain toga and bowed deeply at Harry.
"Lord Gryffindor," it said, with its squeaky voice.
"What's your name?" Harry asked.
"Beemy, my Lord." She looked at Harry warmly. "Is there anything I can do for you, my Lord?"
"I'm not sure," Harry replied. "I skipped dinner and-"
Beemy snapped her fingers, and suddenly a large banquet of fine food filled a long table. Harry, his appetite restored, took a seat and started filling his plate.
"Which refreshment would my Lord prefer?" Beemy asked, tucking a napkin into Harry's robe.
"Water please?" Harry asked.
Beemy was automatically on the case, filling a golden goblet with drink.
Harry relaxed, the stress of his encounter with Snape completely forgotten. If this was what it was like to be the Heir of Gryffindor, then Harry thought he could get quite used to it.