After a few turns in the corridors, they stopped by a grand looking stone archway set into the bricks of an interior wall of the castle. Unlike the previous hallways that had been covered in paintings and torches, the dungeons were bare and lit with a cold blue-white flame that was barely enough to illuminate the walls. All chatter hushed; although most of them had been told what to expect, seeing it in person was quite impressive.
Almost as soon as they entered the dungeons, Albert stopped them all by turning around abruptly. "These halls have been underneath the castle for centuries, and over time they have absorbed some of the magic that children so carelessly throw around. This has given it a sort of pseudo-personality, and while most of the school has measures in place to counteract this, the dungeons do not. For your first year, entering the halls alone and without an older student to guide the way would be foolhardy. They do not know you yet, and may view you as a threat. White they cannot actively hurt you, it is very possible for them to trap you down here, forcing you to walk aimlessly around these dungeons for days." His voice echoed slightly, making it so it sounded like he was speaking from all directions.
He turned back around, and after walking through a few more small rooms with rotten wooden shelves and iron racks, they found themselves in front of an empty looking stretch of wall that was spotless, devoid of all the moss, damp and suspicious red marks found on others. He turned to it, and in a clear voice, said: "Pure".
He turned towards them again, and elaborated. "This is the password to the common room. It will be changed every two weeks on Monday evenings, and the new password will be located on the main news board from the morning. Do not forget it, or you may have to wait there for hours until a member of our house comes by and lets you in."
The wall rumbled, then smoothly slid aside, revealing a large, cylindrical room. There were leather and overstuffed armchairs in all shades of blue and green scattered around on the floor, with small wooden tables around the edges. One of the walls was entirely glass, ribbed with steel, and through it came a ghostly green glow that cast everything in long shadows. On one side of the room, there was a wooden bookcase stacked high with tomes, and on another, a large noticeboard was displayed, nearly empty so close to the start of the year. In the centre of the room, a spiral staircase led down further underground. A large chandelier was fixed to the roof, but instead of the warm, bright candles that were present in the Potter manor, these were torches burning with a cold blue fire. As chilly as the room was, however, there was an atmosphere of warmth that permeated the entire chamber. Whether it was the countless wrinkles of the leather chairs, the stone floor worn down from decades of trampling feet, or the quiet but excited chattering that came from every direction, there was a sense of homeliness that made the space feel far less cold and dank than the rest of the dungeon.
Albert had left soon after he entered, striding over to a group of people near the glass. The first years looked around at each other, grinning slightly at the magic of the castle. Harry made his way over to where Theo and Blaise were talking quietly.
"It's a bit much, don't you think?" Blasie muttered.
"What do you mean?" Theo responded, frowning slightly.
"The fact that the dungeons could just rearrange themselves if they didn't like you."
"Then don't annoy them, I guess," Harry interjected cheerfully, "Also, I suspect they were exaggerating slightly, after all, hasn't it been fifty years since the last death?"
"What?" Blaise said, slightly incredulously.
"Yeah, I read it in 'Hogwarts a History'. Someone called Myrtle Warren was killed in the 1940s, apparently her ghost haunts the second floor bathroom."
"Why would someone want to murder someone in the bathroom? Surely there are far better places to do it, we are in a dungeon after all," Theo grinned, "Did it say who murdered her?"
"No, but it did say that someone was expelled. I suppose you could check the yearbooks if you really wanted to, but I doubt there's much point. They are likely dead by now, or at least driven insane in Azkaban."
At that moment there was a loud rumble at the entrance again, and a tall man with a hooked nose and billowing jet-black robes strode out and stood in front of the first-years. All of the chatter in the room ceased immediately, and there was the quiet rustle of books being put down as everyone turned to look at the man.
"My name is Professor Snape, and I shall be your head of house for the next seven years," He said all this with a sneer, his eyes scraping over the pack that had huddled close together as if the professor was a predator. Which, Harry thought, was probably a perfectly apt description. Snape's eyes lingered on him, his sneer becoming even more pronounced before he resumed glaring at the group as a whole. Harry shivered, he didn't like that the man had singled him out, and resolved to attempt to fix whatever prejudice the professor had over him as soon as possible. Having a head of house that was out to get you could scarcely be healthy.
He continued after the short pause, "There is no doubt you have heard of me, so I shall keep this brief. If there is ever a problem between you and a member of another house, come and find me. I shall sort it. However, although it is my obligation to help you, if you are caught doing something you should not be, I am unable to assist."
Harry noted the emphasis that Snape put on "caught," as if he did not care what they got up to, just as long as they weren't found out.
He raised his voice slightly,his glare becoming even more pronounced. "Be up early, breakfast starts at seven and I shall be handing out your class schedules before then. William and Alice, please show the first-years to their dorms."
He turned swiftly walking back through the opening and sealed it shut behind him. His robes billowed out behind him. Harry wondered if he used magic to make them more imposing, and commended him if he had. They certainly worked.
Two older children had stood up from their chairs as the chatter slowly started up again, and made their way over to the first-years still loitering awkwardly by the entrance.
"Come," The boy ordered, looking mildly annoyed, "boys with me, girls with Alice"
They turned around without another word and descended the spiral staircase in the middle of the room. Harry followed them, the first-years all clamouring down the stairs until they reached the first exit. William pressed a rune on the bricks surrounding the filled-in archway, and the mortar used seemed to liquefy, cascading down into a puddle at their feet. Harry followed him inside, shivering at the sense of cold that permeated every stone. There were five doors spread out along the corridor, and Harry picked the one the farthest away from the stairwell. He heard William leave and turned to Theo.
"Shall we all get up at six-thirty? It'll give us time to get to the great hall." Harry said.
"Sure, I think Draco and the others are leaving then as well so we might as well all go up together," Theo replied.
Blaise poked his head around the doorway just as Theo entered his own room, "Oh, and just so you know, some of the upper years might try to get in during the night at some point to test you since you are a half-blood. You should probably set up a couple of wards to at least alert you if they come in just so you can be ready." He paused for a second. "Not that you'd be able to do anything anyway, but it's always best to know."
Hard nodded, and walked through the old black oak door into his room. He had heard from his parents that the other houses had dorms instead of private rooms, but Harry supposed that it could be dangerous here. If you slept in the same room as your rival then things were bound to get violent.
The room was simple, a small rectangular floor plan with walls covered in stone bricks and lined with iron torch holders. Along one wall there was a walnut wardrobe connected to a bookcase, and a small desk was placed next to it. On the opposite side of the room, there was a slim bed with green sheets and a silver trim. At the head of the bed, there was a small crevice in the wall, and inside of it was an empty candle holder carved in the shape of a cobra.
Harry sat down heavily on the bed and took off his cloak, revealing the ornate sheath pressed up against his body. He had only been in the magical world for a few short weeks and some of the things that were possible still eluded him. He had picked up most things that were necessary already, but he still found some of the more obvious displays of magic hard to wrap his head around. He had been carrying the dagger ever since he had first visited the vault, and as much as he constantly felt the ever present leather against his waist, no one had ever made a comment about it, which he supposed was for the better as he really did not want to have to explain his possession of an old Potter heirloom without his father's approval.
Harry pulled the dagger from the sheath with a sharp snick, and admired how the wickedly sharp blade reflected the torchlight, casting images on the ceiling.
The two snake heads were still for a few long seconds, before they twisted in tandem and looked at Harry. :Hadrian. You have made it to Hogwartsss:
:I have. You expressed your desssires to ssspeak with me?: He replied. The two snakes had told him that they wished to teach him things that his father would never have dared.
:And you are Ssslytherin. The firssst Ssslytherin Potter for centuriesss:
One of the heads turned to look at the other, its scales flexing and shifting as if it really were alive :Enough with the sssmalltalk. We have dissscusssed thisss previousssly. We are here for a purpossse and ssshall complete our dutiesss asss quickly asss posssible:
:Of courssse, asss you wisssh:
:What purpossse: Harry hissed. He knew better than to blindly trust his ancestors, they clearly had agendas of their own and whatever they were, the chance that they aligned with his were slim. That being said, he could not refuse such a valuable source of knowledge so long as he could stay alert for any issues.
:They do not concern you, but my sssibling is correct. We ssstray from the point. The more powerful you are, the more influence we have on the world, ssso it isss in your bessst interessst to allow usss to teach you:
:Very well: Harry hissed. He knew that he had to learn as fast as possible, as sooner or later there would almost certainly be a fight over his ancestry, and Harry was determined to win it.
The snake reared up, and looked directly back at Harry, :Good. Firssst of all, your magical power isss pitiful. Thisss mussst change if you are to hold any power at all. The flow of power is much like a river. To cassst a ssspell, you must widen the banksss to let power flow through your foci and into the world:
:What isss a foci?: Harry asked, annoyed that he was missing so many simple concepts that his classmates would have undoubtedly have learnt several years prior.
:A foci isss the item one can ussse to focusss their intent. In your cassse it isss a wand, in sssome it may be a dagger or a ssstaff. Now attempt to cassst a ssspell, the incantation is 'lumosss' and the wand movement is sssimple, drag the tip sssharply to the right, then make a loop asss if you were drawing on parchment:
Harry tried, but as the minutes continued he barely managed more than a dull glow that was unable to pierce the dark at all.
:Again, thisss time complete the wand movement more ssswiftly, it will help sssmooth out any accidental jagged motions:
The other snake head turned back to its resting position. :thisss isss pathetic. It was a missstake to reveal ourssselvesss to him:
Harry was feeling even more annoyed by this point, the constant belittling comments were getting to him despite all of his efforts to ignore them.
The snake continued, its drawling hiss becoming even more pronounced, :he isss ussselesss, a wassste of time and ssspace:
Harry snarled, "LUMOS" one final time, and suddenly a bright light flared into the room, casting shadows behind the furniture. Harry smiled sharply.
:Good: The snake hissed. :There isss your sssecond lessson. Ssspellsss are governed by intent. The reassson wizardsss ussse foci and incantationsss isss to focusss their intent into a ssspell, although casssting can be done without either of them if your will isss ssstrong enough. The insultsss I threw at you enhanced your desssire to sssucceed, and therefore you did.
:Sssome magic requiresss a ssspecific emotion, thessse are put into a sssubssset called esssoteric ssspellsss. Examplesss include the Patronusss charm, which requiresss a ssstrong happy memory or thought. This powersss the magic and allowsss the patronusss to damage and repel dark creaturesss. Another is the killing curssse, this requiresss a feeling of absssolute and unwavering hatred towardsss the victim:
Harry was silent for a few seconds, wondering what memory he might use to cast them. :What if I have no happy memoriesss?:
:Make them:
The snake shook its head, and clearly decided it had said enough :Now, you are young. Thisss meansss that your magical core hasss not fully developed. It ssshall grow with you, however if you ussse it ssstrenuousssly, it will grow fassster and to a higher level, much like a muscle. You ssshould cassst a complex and magically ssstrong charm and hold it every night before you sssleep. Thisss ssshould build up your core ssslowly but sssurely:
:Like Lumosss?: Harry asked, casting the spell once more.
:No. Lumosss isss weak, even children like you can cassst it endlesssly, as you pull magic from your core into your ressservesss fassster than you deplete it with the charm. Thisss isss becaussse it isss purely transssforming one type of energy into another. I would recommend 'Wingardium Leviosssa' inssstead. It is also a conversion of energy, but one can levitate larger thingsss asss time goesss on to keep up with the increasssing sssize of your power ressservesss.
The snakes went on to teach Harry the wand movement and corrected him on his slight mispronunciation of "Leviosa". In the end, he managed to levitate his quill off his desk for about five seconds before it failed. Apparently the amount of power he depleted from the task was a combination of distance from the object, weight of the object, the time the object is in the air for, along with a constant that made it remarkably difficult to levitate any amount of dust particulates. He wasn't terribly concerned with remembering the specifics, however, as the equations would only be properly taught in the arithmancy class in his third year.
He got into bed feeling satisfied, soon enough he would catch up to his peers who did not have the same resources as him. Then he would be able to make himself known. As the second son of House Potter he wasn't as constricted by politics, although he was worried about his fathers reaction to his sorting. Perhaps he wouldn't care, it's not like he even visited Harry once while he was in The Room. That was Harry's last thought as he drifted off to sleep, perhaps his desire to be better than his father and brother would allow him to carve his own path more easily, just like the snakes said…
Monday, 2nd September 1991
Harry woke up the next day to a faint green light glowing through a small window that led out onto the lake. He got dressed into his scratchy new Slytherin robes hanging up in his wardrobe and entered the common room. There were a small number of students still in it, it looked like most of his house were either planning on eating breakfast later or had already left. He went over to the huddle of first-years waiting by one of the worn leather sofas near the large window, and sat down next to Theo.
"Potter," Draco said coldly.
"Draco Malfoy, Heir of the House of Malfoy," He responded, pleased at the slightly disgruntled look on Draco's face at the use of his full title.
Blaise seemed to take charge of the situation, smiling at the exchange, "I believe you haven't been introduced to the rest of our house yet, Harry. This is Pansy, Heiress of House Parkinson, Millicent, Second of House Bulstrode, Vincent, Heir of House Crabbe, and last… but not quite least, Greggory, Second of house Goyle. Everyone else, This is Harry, Second of House Potter and twin to the famous Twat-That-Lived"
Harry smiled at that last comment, and before Crabbe or Goyle could voice the confusion so evident in their eyes, he clarified his position, "Twin in looks, perhaps, but we definitely do not share the same mindset. From what I've seen so far, he really is an arrogant little sod."
"Wise words," Blaise smiled.
It seemed that most of the people in the compartment he had been in the day before were accepting of him, while Blaise, Theo and Tracey acted like his presence was completely normal, Daphne was looking just as cold as she had on the train, if not moreso. Draco still had a vaguely disgruntled look on his face, but he seemed to mostly accept him, though Millicent, Vincent and Gregory were still processing this new information.
Vincent opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but it was just at that moment when a prefect walked over to them to take the first-years to the great hall.
It was a short walk through the dungeons, a few rooms shorter than it had been with Albert, and Harry wondered whether it meant that the castle liked the prefect more. He was still fascinated by the castle itself, it seemed so much more active than anywhere he had been before. There were hordes of students rushing about, determined to get to wherever they were going as quickly as possible, various ghosts were floating down the halls and the portraits were happily chatting away with the others in adjacent frames. Even the architecture seemed much more lively than it had been before, the frigidity of night replaced by warm beams of light from the sun that was still low in the sky.
The stone carvings were also interesting, there was a definite Slytherin theme that grew less and less prevalent the further they walked away from the dungeons, until eventually Harry couldn't spot any statues of snakes remaining. Interestingly, the less snakes there were, the more there were statues of lions, eagles and badgers in increasingly strange positions. After all he had seen, he wouldn't have been surprised if the statues came to life every evening after dark and enacted a war, the snakes versus everything else. When the Great hall approached, Harry dispelled the childish daydream and prepared for a sickening show of love towards, as Blaise had so eloquently named him, the Twat-That-Lived.
Sure enough, when he entered the hall, Charles was already sitting at the Gryffindor table regaling some sort of tale to an enraptured audience. Harry wondered how embellished it was, in the library at the manor he had taken a few painfully long minutes to read the first chapter of one of the Boy-Who-Lived novels and had found it so revolting he found it unlikely that he would have believed it even as a toddler. As if a five-year-old could ever defeat twenty adult dark wizards with the power of 'LoVe aNd FriEnDsHiP'. It hadn't even been quality writing, unbelievable or not.
He sat down at the end of his table next to Theo. Thankfully Draco was a few places away, because he was whining about a low quality mattress and how he would talk to his father about it. Harry shook his head, if Draco couldn't deal with a hard mattress on his own then it didn't bode well for his life after school.
Professor Snape suddenly appeared from the entranceway, and all chatter ceased except for Charles' story, whose tone became even more derisive. Harry thought he picked up the name "Snivellus" somewhere in it, and by the new tension that appeared in Snape's shoulders, so had he. After a few seconds the tension abated, replaced by a cruel smile that made Harry even more concerned about Charles' life. Well perhaps concerned was the wrong word.
Harry immediately saw the cause of Snape's drastic change in demeanour when he was handed his schedule and noticed that the first lesson they had was double Potions with the Gryffindors. Harry smirked, the lesson was certainly going to be very entertaining. The timetable looked relatively normal, but the amount of double potions they had was worrying: six hours of the lesson a week would prove which of the Gryffindors were really courageous. There was also the one annoying outlier of astronomy, midnight on a wednesday. He would have to find a sleep schedule that would fit around that, as well as the early breakfasts. He by no means wanted to be in a rush. If he could find a charm that would make someone require less sleep then it would be immensely helpful for his ongoing quest of being the best in his year.
The door opened again and this time another bunch of first-years entered. He immediately spotted his sister among them, although she looked relatively happy and was chatting with the Ravenclaws around her, her malnutrition was evident. Harry would not be surprised if she spent most of her time in the library trying to find ways to fix that. He checked his timetable again, he had charms with the Ravenclaws in third period, after double potions.
He put down the paper and the tables filled with all types of breakfast foods. Harry debated on whether to go for the waffles or something healthier, and decided on a mixture. He had realised that duelling was the most fun magical sport that was also important for defending yourself, so Harry had decided to focus on that rather than quidditch. He had also learnt that flying unaided was possible, although only one person had ever done it before in recorded history, so he was determined to find out how. That would make brooms mostly redundant – although he planned on becoming proficient with them anyways – because keeping secret a skill that only you and one of the most dangerous dark lords in history know would be necessary if he wanted to maintain a good image and cast suspicion aside. That being said, he would have to be fit to dodge spells, and being on a diet would be necessary.
Half way through his food, A flurry of movement erupted overhead. Harry looked up, dread curdling in his stomach. Whether or not he received a letter from his father – and what that letter contained if it did end up arriving – would likely determine the rest of his schooling until he became of age and was able to escape into the wider world.
Sure enough, Harry spotted his father's great horned owl swooping towards him. It landed next to the cereal bowl, and pecked a slice of bacon from Harry's plate while he unclipped a small letter from the owl's leg. Harry looked at it with trepidation, then tucked it inside his robes. Nothing his father had to say would be urgent, and he didn't particularly want to open it somewhere where the rest of his house could use it as possible blackmail material.
When he finished his meal, he and half of the first-years trailed down to the entrance of the dungeons where a scowling Snape was waiting. He stood there in silence until the last of the Gryffindors arrived, Weasley and Charles, before billowing down the archway. This time there was only one room the group had to walk through until they reached the potions classroom, and there were no offshoots which left the Gryffindors looking slightly confused.
They all filed into the room and sat at the desks, the Slytherins at the front and the Gryffindors at the back. Unfortunately, as Harry had been one of the last to enter, he was placed at an empty workstation right next to the teachers desk. Thankfully, Theo swiftly joined him and set his own Potions kit beside Harry's.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut with a loud band, and Snape stood up, ready to begin the register. There were several names he didn't recognise, but Harry made sure to memorise the faces they matched.
Eventually, Potter, Charles was called, and upon hearing a drawled 'yes', Harry saw Snape's lips twitch slightly. "Ah yes, our resident hero. Two points from Gryffindor for answering the register inappropriately. You shall say 'present' or 'here'."
The professor sneered at Charles, letting him simmer for a few seconds. There had been several Slytherins and even a few Gryffidors that had answered "yes" instead of the options he had given, but Snape had never even batted an eye at them.
"If you believe yourself to be intelligent enough to refer to me as an equal, please enlighten me on the differences between Monkshood and Wolfsbane."
Harry recognised them as being from the second chapter of their assigned reading, although he didn't think that Charles would have answered even if he did know. He seemed to be just containing his anger, something that Harry didn't understand. All that had happened so far was a bit of unfair treatment and a question he should have known the answer to. Harry sat back in his chair, content with watching what was about to happen.
"Do you think that the question is beneath you? Pray tell me where a bezoar is found." Snape was openly smirking now, but the Twat-That-Lived was fidgeting almost as if he were about to explode. He looked back on the register, and looked up again, this time directly at Harry, "Perhaps the other Potter could answer for you?"
"Monkshood and Wolfsbane are two names for the same plant; it is otherwise known as Aconite. You can find it in the second chapter of the textbook, where there is a potion that causes the victim's skin to become covered with fur if ingested through the mouth or nose. As for the second question, a bezoar is harvested from the stomach of a goat," Harry paused for a second there, "But you are more likely to find one in a potions cabinet or at the edge of a workstation as they are immensely helpful in curing most poisons."
"Very well, perhaps you have some potential. Even so, you should all be familiar with both of those concepts. I expect you all to have read up to and including chapter five of the textbook by next lesson," most of the Gryffindors groaned at that, but many of the Slytherins were smiling in open amusement as they had already read the book in its entirety. Their smiles only grew wider when Snape continued, "And as for you, Potter, I expect fifteen inches on the potency and effects of Wolfsbane due on our lesson on friday. Perhaps you could ask the Other Potter for some advice. If it does not receive an acceptable or above, I shall place the potion in your drink at some point throughout the next year. I recommend you brew an antidote just in case."
At that point Charles stood up and slammed his hands down firmly on his desk, "My father warned me about you! He said that you were unfair and violent, the largest and slimiest snake in the school! But of course you are, Sivellus," he said derisively. "You only managed to escape Azkaban by claiming to be a spy, Death Eater."
He stormed off and slammed the door behind him, but it seemed the entire class, even the Slytherins, were holding their breath to see what their professor would do. Strangely, he didn't seem angry and just turned to look at the class with a pleasant expression, "Well then, shouting at a teacher, accusing them of being a terrorist… How… fascinating. One hundred points from Gryffindor, and one extra point for each minute until he leaves the dungeons for disrespect and hate speech. Such a shame."
Without saying another word, Snape walked over to the board and pointed his wand at it. The instructions of a potion appeared in flaming letters, and he instructed everyone to complete it in one hour. They would be judged at the end.
The rest of the lesson moved smoothly except for one incident where Neville was sent to the infirmary for blowing up his and Finnegan's cauldron and getting some of the potion on himself. Harry wondered if the dungeons took pity on injured students, or if he would be forced to navigate through dozens of rooms just to get out. He and Theo had debated adding a few tweaks to the potion to make it better, but eventually decided that it wasn't worth risking Snape's ire for a few extra points. At the end of the hour, their potion was a perfect pale green, although when Snape looked in it he only grunted and then left. He told them all to bottle up a sample, then put it at the front for grading. He then spent the last thirty minutes lecturing the students on the reason for the placement of some of the ingredients, and at the end set them a six inch essay on the reason that the Lacefly Wings had to be crushed and not diced like the Withering Root.
Harry decided to stay behind while everyone was packing up, because it was clear that the professor had something against him. First he had called Harry 'Other Potter', then he had repeatedly asked him and only him questions, and not giving any points when he answered correctly, and finally although the potion he had submitted was perfect, Shape hadn't given him any credit.
When all the others had gone, he had walked up to the teachers desk, where Snape was collecting his teaching notes, "Well, Other Potter?"
"I noticed that you don't seem to like me much, I have a suspicion that you would have treated me similarly to Charles had I been in Gryffindor and not Slytherin. That brings me to my point. I'm not, and there is a reason for it. I was never brought up in the Potter ancestral home. I have no love for them, and they have certainly not managed to instil any of their biassed and incorrect views on me. I would appreciate it if we were to forget my ancestry, and if you could treat me as though I was a regular Slytherin."
Snape just looked up and stared directly into Harry's eyes. He tried not to look away – that would have made him seem like a coward – but a sudden blossoming headache made him drop his gaze. "Very well. We shall see how you handle my house, and I will judge you based on that."
"Thank you, Professor."
He left the door and found both houses moving slowly through the dungeon. The Gryffindors were apparently quite worried that they had moved past more than just two rooms. None of the Slytherins had bothered to tell them what Albert had said to them the day before yet, so Harry could see their eyes get progressively wider as they went on. Their next spot of entertainment came when they found Charles, white faced and sweaty, still wandering the dungeons one hundred and ten minutes after he had left. The Gryffindors looked shocked, while the Slytherins were even more amused that the Gryffindors had managed to lose over one hundred and fifty points in their first ever lesson.
Blaise sidled up next to him and whispered in his ear. "Served him right for accusing his own teacher of being something that would have got him a life sentence in Azkaban."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows and whispered back. "Was he not a Death Eater? I saw some of the trial transcripts, doesn't he have a Dark Mark?"
"Shh," Was Blaise's only response, coupled with his ever-present cocky smile.
Harry shook his head at that and was pleased when he saw the archway that meant the exit of the dungeons. He had been worried that it would have taken longer, despite the number of people. They only had ten minutes to get between classes, and the charms classroom was on the fifth floor.
Thankfully they made it on time, just before the diminutive professor ushered them in. Harry had thought he was quite short when he had analysed all the teachers during the welcome feast, but the chair had made him seem much taller than he was. He had read 'Hogwarts, a History', and in the newest edition – published five years previously – it had said that Fillius Flitwick was half goblin. He wondered if it contributed to his status as ex professional dueler, the goblins being bloodthirsty by nature.
Regardless, Professor Flitwick seemed to be a bubbly old man, delightedly running around the classroom with a speed and agility unexpected for his age. He ushered the students to their desks, and jumped up onto a pile of books that he kept in place of a stool to see the class properly. He then quickly went over the basics of magic – a much less complete edition than what the snakes had told him before – but it was clear who the muggleborns were as they were the only ones diligently writing things down and not looking bored out of their minds. Thankfully it only took fifteen minutes for him to finish, and they were on to practising their first charm, Aguamenti.
Luckily, the charm came much quicker to him than Lumos had the night before. Harry was pleased that he was one of the first to get it, third after Blaise and Hermione. The former had confided to him during breakfast that he was from Italy, and the ministries on the continent were much less strict than the British one. Because of that, he had been allowed to use a wand from the age of nine as long as he was being overseen by a qualified witch or wizard that had received the equivalent of four NEWTs. Blaise then took the time to teach Harry the freezing charm, Glacius, which prompted them to begin an impromptu duel that had them both shivering by the end. Professor Flitwick didn't seem to mind, and instead just congratulated them happily when he came over to their corner to check on their progress.
Afterwards Harry took a deep breath and made his way down to one of the abandoned rooms in the dungeon to open his letter. He was taking too many precautions – he knew that – so he forced himself to accept that he was just putting it off. He took out the letter, and stared at his name on the front, scrawled in bright red ink. With a shaking finger, he peeled back the Potter seal, and slid the contents out of the envelope, turning them around in his hand and unfolding the paper so he could read what was written.
Harry Potter-
Charles sent me an owl after he left dinner, and he told me of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding your sorting. I wanted to write this letter as soon as I learnt the truth, because I think that it is important to alleviate your fears of my sentiments. I understand that this must be a trying time for you, and would in a heartbeat write to Albus to request for you to be resorted, but I believe that this could be a wonderful opportunity.
I hope that you remember the tales I told you in Diagon in the summer, and I implore you to think carefully on them. While the parents don't necessarily represent their children, I think that it is important to be wary. If there is any word of a threat to either your brother or yourself, just send an owl to Albus and I'll pull you out of there before you can say Quidditch! In the meantime, CONSTANT VIGILANCE! It was a wise phrase I was told by a Wise man during my Auror training, and I have found it to be very valuable in my experience.
-James Potter
Harry let out a deep breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He was well aware that the letter was far too formal for a correspondence between a father and son, but as long as it remained civil, he was willing to let it slide. It was also clear that his father wished for him to act as a spy, to protect Charles from the shadows, as it were. And to be honest? That wasn't too bad of a proposal from his perspective, the only issue being that Harry wasn't willing to stick his neck out for his brother, especially when his position in the house was so precarious.
Harry put the letter away, then made his way up to join the rest of the first-years for Lunch. It was a relatively quick affair, Harry didn't want to eat too much so he just partook of a few sandwiches. It was clear that Theo wanted to bring up the letter, but Harry always evaded the implicit questions.
Eventually, their classes started up again, and the next one was Transfiguration with the much stricter Professor McGonagall. Amusingly, it seemed that the 'Weasley Terrors' as they were known around the school had been tormenting their little brother with pranks since breakfast. He had come running into the lesson two minutes late with vivid green hair, although to be honest Harry thought it might have even been an improvement over the normal striking red.
"Thank Merlin McGonagall isn't here yet," Ronald gasped, grimacing when the only seat left was on the front row next to Millicent Bulstrode. However, before he sat down he absentmindedly walked over to the teachers desk and petted the cat that was lounging on a stack of books.
Suddenly, the cat elegantly leapt to the floor and its form seemed to twist in midair until an irate old woman stood in its place. The look of pure horror on Ronald's face made more than half the people in the room burst into laughter, the rest wearing utterly shocked expressions.
"Never, in all my years of teaching!" McGonagall yelled at the boy that was still standing in place, frozen in abject terror, "Sit!"
It took a few more minutes of scolding and point losses for the room to quiet, but eventually the professor stood at the front of the room and pointed her wand at the blackboard, chalk dictating her words as she spoke. "Transfiguration is one of the most intricate types of magic, it involves few spells and yet they can be used for many applications," Professor McGonagall broke off for a second, and turned her desk into a pig and back again, to the polite applause of everyone in the room. Personally, Harry thought that her turning into a cat was far more interesting, but acquiesced that not many people knew about animagery and what it took to become one. Harry was thinking of attempting to find an easier way, but he wouldn't start looking into it until second year at the earliest.
McGonagall continued in her sharp tone. "We shall be learning the transformation spell today, repeat after me, 'Commutatio'. No, with a sharp 'T' sound. This is the spell you will be using most commonly during this class. In your five years of Transfiguration, and the two extra if you decide to take it for NEWTs, you will improve your proficiency in this spell, the conjuring spell and the vanishing spell. There are of course more specific transfigurations, such as 'Lapifors', the spell that transforms anything small into a rabbit, but they are precise and have very few use cases, and are therefore not required by the Ministry.
Now, transfigurations are not permanent. If I change this block of wood into a quill, just like that, it will change back after about five seconds. This is because I barely put any magic into it at all, and therefore it did not retain the form for long. It is much like charms in this way. An object can store magic, just as it can store heat, and over time it will lose this magic when it is used up, for example when a transfiguration is going on, or it will lose the magic gradually just as heat is lost to the surroundings."
One of the Gryffindors – Harry couldn't remember her name – put up her hand to ask a question, "But what about permanent enchantments? My trunk is larger on the inside than on the outside, and it isn't like I'm constantly putting magic into it."
"Good question, and the answer is more complicated than the scope of the lesson, so you don't need to note this down. Your charms teacher will no doubt teach you this in more depth later, but I shall explain it simply. There are three types of enchantment: Active, Passive and Permanent.
"An example of an active charm is Wingardium Leviosa, if I levitate this quill, I am constantly putting magic into it. If I stop, the quill falls. It is as simple as that.
A trunk is a very good example for the last two more complicated types; if I touch my trunk with the tip of my wand, it shrinks so it can fit inside my pocket. This is a Passive enchantment: while I do not need to say the incantation, changing the size of the trunk pulls on my magic slightly every time I touch my wand to it with the intent to shrink it.
An example of a Permanent enchantment is the one you gave, a space enhancing charm. This is a lot like applying a coat of paint to a wall, the paint fundamentally changes a room, even though it is just something that overlays it and not part of the actual wall itself. Given time, the paint will peel from the surface, and eventually it will all have disappeared just as any permanent enchantment disintegrates eventually into the ley lines that crisscross the earth under our feet. Transfiguration has a subsection of spells that are considered permanent, however it is called Alchemy, and is a third year elective.
All you need to know for now is that you can store magic inside of an object, and tell that magic to do something continually to an item. If you transfigure a toothpick into a needle, you are not extracting metal from the toothpick and using it to form the shape of a needle, nor are you changing the atomic structure of the elements it contains. You are conjuring metal and replacing the wood with it. The more different the finished product is from the original, the more energy it will take.
That is enough theory for this lesson, however I expect a six inch essay on how the transformation aspect of transfiguration works. You can use material in chapter two of your assigned textbook. For now, I am going to hand out toothpicks and you must transfigure them into needles as I said in the last example. They will be graded, but your mark will not affect your final grade at the end of the year. Points will be given for the material, shape and the hole in the top. Begin."
It only took five minutes of intense concentration before Theo sat up with a pleased smile at the finished product lying on his desk. Harry looked down at his own work, it was sharp and strong, but he had yet to transform it into metal or cut a hole. Blaise was still slightly behind him, he had managed to turn it slightly silvery but it still broke just as easily as a regular toothpick. Harry looked over at Theo again with mild confusion, "How did you get it so quickly?"
"The incantation is easy, all it requires is will, and I have quite a bit of that," The prideful note in his voice didn't die off, but Harry noticed a slight slump of his shoulders and tired glint seep into his eyes on the last comment. Harry wondered what it might mean, and resolved to ask him about it later.
By the end of the lesson, Harry had managed to get something that resembled a needle, but it was still too thick and the hole was barely a quarter of a millimetre. Blaise had managed to get the metal part of it right, but was still struggling with changing the shape, and Theo had been set on the task of making the toothpick into a copper pipe.
Their next lesson was Herbology, and Harry was vaguely pleased it didn't involve their wands. They had walked down to the Herbology classrooms on the second floor, and had written notes out for the entire lesson. It was just as well, because Harry's head was starting to hurt because of the constant use of magic, and reading was relatively painless.
Tired and aching from the long day, Harry made his way down to the dungeons with the rest of the first-years. There were only a few people still studying, and the Slytherin first-years sat themselves down on the sofa they had colonised next to the large glass window looking out beneath the lake. He looked round and while most of them were tired and had drooping eyes, Draco was wearing a slight smirk, something that almost certainly spelt doom for some unfortunate soul he had tricked. It was interesting how after just a single day of living with them, Harry had a pretty good idea on what all of their personalities were like, at least regarding him.
Theo was pensive most of the time, and liked studying. He was slightly cruel, but it usually had a purpose and rarely manifested into malevolence. Blaise was different, but still nice to him. He was good with politics, and had already begun to make connections within the house, both within their year and the years above. Draco was haughty and pompous, he relied on his father for most things and would likely be very different if he was not the heir to one of the most prestigious houses in England. He liked to pretend that Harry didn't exist, and his views on blood purity were strong. Vincent and Greggory were very similar to each other. They always stood behind Draco; perhaps there was some kind of political alliance going on. They were quiet most of the time, but it was mostly due to their low intelligence than anything else.
Millicent was similar, however she didn't share the same affinity to food as the first two did. Pansy Parkinson was one end of the Pureblood Princess scale, and Daphne was the other. Pansy was arrogant, and she seemed to view being at Draco's side as the most important thing in the world. She took care of her looks the most out of anyone in the group, but her constant pout and simpering tone was slightly sickening to Harry. Daphne on the other hand was icy and cold, she had barely spoken a single word to Harry, but sometimes he could feel her eyes freezing the back of his neck. There was clearly something that had happened previously between them or their families that he didn't remember, perhaps his father had interfered at some point and made an enemy of her's. Harry wouldn't doubt it. Tracey was the most like Blaise of the group: she was open and excitable, she had been friends with Daphne before they had arrived at Hogwarts, however she was a half-blood which made things more complicated. The other members of the first-years didn't seem to have the same aversion to her as they did to him, but Draco still scoffed under his breath every time he looked at her.
He felt as though he was slowly finding a place within them himself, but he knew that he still had a long way to go. His father and lineage was one of the largest issues with his place in the house, but he knew that eventually he might be able to change most of their minds. He had to prove himself before that though, and so would train until one of them gave him an opportunity.
He retired to his room shortly after, preferring to tackle his homework alone than suffer under the occasional glares given to him by older members of the house. He knew there was going to be a confrontation sooner rather than later, but didn't want to provoke anything. He would wait, and he would grow stronger. As soon as he finished his homework he would pull out the dagger and let the snakes teach him even more. Harry sighed, there would be no rest for him for a while.
James grasped the glass of scotch again and brought it to his lips; it had been a very long day. His duties as Head Auror were beginning to interfere with the management of his house, and he wondered how long he would be able to keep up both without going mad. He looked around the table in the dingy room of the muggle pub that he and his friends frequented and smiled. It was a shame that all four of them weren't able to be there, but Sirius had made his choice at the end of the war and James wasn't going to begrudge him for it. After all, when his own parents had been killed, it did give him the motivation to join the Order. He couldn't imagine what would happen to him if Lily was killed.
He took another swig of his bottle and looked around, "When will we three meet again?"
"Oh, don't tell me Lily has been forcing you to read more muggle fiction lately has she?" Remus said with a chuckle, "I remember she came through a few days ago to buy a copy of Macbeth in the bookshop."
James smiles slightly before it was replaced with a frown. "Yeah, she said she had been over to visit you. How have things been? I know you've been struggling to find a job recently."
Remus waved his hand in a placating gesture, "it's fine. The bookshop owner is a bit concerned about my monthly absences, but he doesn't ask questions."
"Moony, you know you don't have to do any of this ridiculousness. Just remember that if you ever get into trouble you can come stay with us for as long as you want."
"Thanks, but it's fine. You know my pride won't accept that," Remus said with a sad smile. "Anyway, enough about me. I heard your children went to Hogwarts yesterday. All Gryffindors?"
James grimaced. That was another problem. Out of his three children, Charles had been accepted into Gryffindor and had made friends with the Weasleys and the other boys in his dorm, Aurora had made it into Ravenclaw, which although not perfect was acceptable, but Harry had been declared a snake.
James had complained to Albus the day he had been told that Harry needed emergency treatment, but the old goat wouldn't listen to him. He severely doubted that the injuries had been so bad that the child was forced to recover in the DOM, especially when he had visited and seen nothing but a confused and quiet eleven year old boy. He had thought that he might have been able to save Harry by providing a good and kind home, but he had failed. He took another swig of brandy.
"No, unfortunately not. Charles was, but that was a given, Aurora was sorted into Ravenclaw and Harry into Slytherin."
The others winced, but Peter spoke up to fill the awkward silence, "Charles really is a good boy, and he'll grow up to be a great man, just like your father. Harry is… unfortunate, but at least he isn't your heir. That would make it far more complicated if you wanted to do something more extreme down the line."
"I'm sure that isn't necessary," Remus protested, "It might even be a good thing having a spy in the pit of vipers, there will most likely be threats, especially because Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle are all there. All children of marked Death Eaters that are probably chomping at the bit to take revenge on Charles."
James sighed. "Perhaps. If we can keep him on the light, then everything will be fine. We might have to keep him as close to Charles as possible to turn him, but to be honest, I'm not sure which way he'll go. I just suppose we'll have to keep an eye on him just in case we have to take drastic action."
Yes, that was what they would do. As much as Remus had faith in the boy, James remembered Harry's interested expression when he had been talking to the Zabini boy, and then he had looked disappointed to be wrenched away from him. He would wait and see if Charles sent him any more letters concerning Harry, and they would move from there. For now, he had a twenty year old glass of brandy waiting, and he was damn well going to finish it.