Disclaimer: Though I would love to, I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter 2: Friends With A Malfoy

Once everyone was as full as a group of 11 to 18 year olds will ever be, the food disappeared, followed by the appearance of heaps of puddings.

There was ice cream, pies, tarts, eclairs, doughnuts, trifles, berries, jelly, rice pudding, custard, chocolate, jam… but Harry decided on a treacle tart.

The friar took pudding as an excellent excuse to talk to Harry again.

"So, the boy who lived, hm?"

Oh, not this again, Harry mentally sighed. "Yup."

He looked as though he wanted to ask Harry some questions, but he had none, so he resorted to small talk.

"Good weather." This was a lie, as outside was cloudy and dark.

Harry glanced at the high table.

"Friar," he asked, "Who's the man sitting next to Quirrel?"

"Ah! Professor Snape, Slytherin. Teaches Potions."

Harry didn't much like the look of 'Professor Snape, Slytherin' all too much, and, judging from the way he was looking carefully away from Harry, he guessed it was two-sided.

After about ten minutes of people cramming as many doughnuts onto their plates as the laws of physics would allow, Dumbledore stood up again.

"Ahem. Just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you. First Years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic is to be used in the corridors between lessons. Quidditch trials will take place in the second week of 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."

Harry glanced up at Cedric, to gauge if the last bit had been serious. From the look on Cedric's face, he guessed that it was entirely serious.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

…

Once everyone had finished their meals, the food on the plates was replaced by puddings of every description and variation. Harry helped himself to Treacle Tart, as Padma energetically explained her family to him.

Harry glanced thoughtfully up at the high table, and interrupted Padma's description of her uncle's favourite drink (alcoholic, naturally) by asking:

"Who's the person up there, with the greasy hair?"

She frowned, and shrugged. "A professor. Probably mean. Probably Slytherin."

"Which you can tell because…?"

Rolling her eyes, she answered "Because if someone at Hogwarts is mean, or strict, or ugly, nine times out of ten, they're a Slytherin."

A tall boy, somewhere to the left of her, snorted. She ignored him. "And that, Harry, is why it's only nine."

Once everyone was full of their second course, too, Dumbledore stood up.

"A few more words, the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils, Mr Filch would like you to know you are not allowed to use magic in between classes, and Quidditch tryouts will happen on the second week of term. Any wishing not to die will steer clear of the third-floor corridor on the right. Now! School song, I think!"

…

Harry ignored pudding. True, the food looked wonderful and exquisite, but Harry doubted he would ever eat the same way again, having seen Millicent Bulstrode's face.

When it had become clear no one wanted any more, Dumbledore stood up. Harry ignored him until he mentioned Quidditch tryouts the second week back. Now there was something to do. Dumbledore mentioned a school song.

Huh. Wonder what that's all about.

…

'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling,

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.'

Everyone ended at different times, with different tunes. Harry found it very amusing that Cedric had tried to map the words to 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'. He whispered to Harry, while everyone else was applauding, that he tried to do something different every year.

As the Hufflepuff prefect led the first years to the Hufflepuff common room, Harry noticed a rather large, rather old looking painting of a fruit bowl. His thought process as to what on Earth it could be was interrupted almost instantly when he walked into the room.

On the far end was a large fireplace with a large, oak table sitting in front of it. There were more tables on either side, smaller, round and surrounded by chairs, no doubt for revision in later years. There were highly placed, round windows lining the room, and plants everywhere. On either side of the entrance, there were staircases leading up to a higher platform, made, as far as Harry could gather, exclusively for fun. Opposite these were the staircases to the dormitories. Left for boys, right for girls.

"Wow." he breathed to Hannah, who looked like she was never going to move again. "I could get used to this."

…

Harry was rather amused by the singing. The different pitches, speeds, and utter chaos unfolding around him was the best kind of song in his opinion.

It felt as though he had barely blinked when he was suddenly by the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room. It was fairly large, gold, with a brass knocker in the shape of an eagle. He was about to comment about this to Hannah, when the door shouted at the prefect,

"What month of the year has 28 days?"

"Absolutely all of them." they answered.

"Never seen a 27 day month, have you now?" the door asked, swinging open.

The room seemed to revolve around a statue of a woman, whom Harry was told to be Rowena Ravenclaw, founder of the respective house. The room was decorated exquisitely, with a high, domed ceiling, lamps, lounges, tables, and absolutely everything Harry would ever want, or need, out of a room.

…

Harry was one of the very few people on the Slytherin table who sang, and he did so with defiance. Perhaps once he was in the common room, he'd feel better.

It turned out that, for the first time that day, he had been right. The dingy green common room did make him feel better. It may only have been because he was no longer surrounded by the Slytherins, but he was much more relaxed than he had been since he sat down at the green table.

…

The Dormitory absolutely lived up to the common room below it. Harry found a mustard yellow four poster ready for him, all his things already unpacked. He was so tired that he fell asleep in his clothes.

…

The Dormitory, Harry noticed, was home to five other people who greeted him, and seemed keen to talk to the Harry Potter, yet somehow managing not to mention their names at any point. The only one Harry got to know decently well was Terry Boot, who he got along very well with, and they were talking well into the night.

…

Harry felt no need to go up to sleep. Maybe he would eventually, but he would need some relaxing time first. But he was to be disappointed, as only ten minutes later, who would arrive but Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing here?"

He looked slightly embarrassed. "I just… can't sleep."

Harry understood. He had often felt the same. He stood up, but tripped over something, only to be caught by Malfoy.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you care?" Harry looked up, tired, and saw a not-altogether-hateful look on Draco's face. Harry found it funny that they could bond over something so small as this.

But perhaps it was this friendship that sustained Harry throughout that year.