CHAPTER 2: INTRIGUES AND REVELATIONS
Harry and Daphne convened in the common room the following morning, orchestrating a plan to wait for Tracy before embarking on their journey to the breakfast hall. Nestled at the Slytherin table, Harry quizzically addressed Tracy, "Not exactly a morning enthusiast, are you?" Tracy appeared as though she longed for the comfort of her bed.
"Not at all," she replied with a tired yawn, rubbing her eyes in the process. "I don't comprehend how anyone can be so chipper in the mornings."
Harry, nonchalantly munching on a piece of toast, remarked, "Well, I've always been an early riser."
Daphne chimed in, "Same here. I was..."
Suddenly, Hermione barged into the conversation, a look of surprise etched across her face. "Hey, why didn't any of you let me in on the secret that you're Harry Potter?" she demanded, a tone of accusation coloring her words.
Harry, sipping his pumpkin juice, calmly retorted, "Simply put, it would've meant enduring a barrage of questions while confined in a small space. At least here, I can escape if need be."
Hermione, her curiosity piqued, pressed further, "But Adrian Potter doesn't have a brother. You're not mentioned in any of the books where he's discussed."
Harry exchanged a glance with Daphne before responding, "Well, you see, some stories don't make it to the pages of those books. Sometimes, they unfold in the shadows, away from the public eye."
'Those books conveniently omitted my existence, yet here I stand,' Harry retorted with a wry smile. 'So, Daphne, any particular class you're looking forward to?'
Daphne's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. 'Absolutely! Charms, for sure. I've heard the teacher is exceptionally kind.'
Harry nodded in agreement. 'Professor Flitwick, right? I've heard he's a former dueling champion. My mother excelled in Charms, and my father in Transfiguration. I have a feeling my best subject would be one of those or Defense Against the Dark Arts.'
Hermione, feeling slightly overlooked, interjected, "Hey, don't ignore me!"
Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, but I didn't ignore you. I was hoping you'd catch the hint and disappear by now!"
Tracy, looking visibly exhausted, added her two cents, "Yeah, please go. It's early in the morning, and I'm too tired to hear you yelling." Hermione huffed in indignation and walked away.
'She's quite irritating, isn't she?' remarked Daphne, her eyes following Hermione's retreating figure after she had left.
'My mother put in her utmost effort during her school years to portray Muggle-borns as clever and sympathetic,' Harry sighed, his thoughts momentarily lingering on the legacy she left behind. 'And that girl is determined to undo all her hard work.'
Severus Snape approached the trio, feigning indifference to what Potter had just shared about his mother, but inwardly acknowledging the truth in those words. He handed each of them their schedules with an air of detached professionalism.
"Here are your schedules," Snape announced in his signature low tone. The three students expressed their gratitude, to which Snape merely nodded and made his exit. However, the resonance of Potter's words lingered in the air, leaving an unspoken understanding between them.
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As the time for Transfiguration approached, Harry and his companions navigated the bustling hallways to reach their next class. Upon entering the classroom, they found an unusually poised cat perched on the desk. A spark of recognition flickered in Harry's eyes as he nodded at the feline, uttering a polite, "Hello, Professor." The cat's eyes widened, betraying a hidden intelligence that only the initiated could perceive.
Choosing seats towards the back of the room, Harry, Daphne, and Tracy settled in for Professor McGonagall's lesson. Hermione entered shortly after, her gaze briefly acknowledging the trio before she confidently occupied the front row.
In a hushed whisper, Tracy voiced her musings, "Do you ever get the feeling she thinks she's better than us?"
Daphne responded with a hint of sarcasm, "No, not at all."
Hermione, overhearing the conversation, turned her head to address them. "What are you three talking about?"
Harry, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, retorted, "We were pondering a profound question. Perhaps you have the answer. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" The unexpected question left Hermione momentarily baffled.
"What question?"
"How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" Harry repeated, leaving Hermione contemplating the peculiar inquiry. "I personally think it manages about five trees. What about you?"
Hermione started to form a thoughtful response when the arrival of more students disrupted the conversation. Among them, Draco Malfoy entered the classroom and immediately spotted Harry and his companions, setting the stage for a brewing tension between the two rivals.
"Hello, Potter," Draco drawled as he approached, a smug expression playing on his face.
Harry, unfazed, responded in the same languid tone, "Hello, Malfoy. Can I help you? If you're unsure where to sit, I'd recommend one of the empty seats, preferably one far away from me."
Draco scowled, his arrogance challenged. "Shut it, Potter. Do you think you're better than me?"
"I think if I am, great. If not, then I've got better things to do than to keep trying and besting you," Harry replied, maintaining an air of indifference.
The tension escalated as Draco, fueled by his disdain, sneered, "You, Potter, think you're so important. You and your brother are nothing but stupid half-bloods, stemming from a damned Mudblood."
The venomous word hung in the air, causing a collective hush in the classroom. All eyes turned towards Harry, waiting for his response. Unexpectedly, Harry flashed a calm smile, as if the insult had rolled off him like water off a duck's back.
"Is that the best you've got, Malfoy?" Harry retorted, his voice surprisingly composed. "Mudblood or not, at least I've got manners. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to focus on Professor McGonagall's lesson. We wouldn't want to fall behind, would we?" The casual dismissal left Draco seething, and Harry turned his attention back to the front of the class, leaving the room abuzz with subdued whispers and the lingering tension between the two rivals.
"Oh, Malfoy," Harry said with a measured calmness, "sweet, uneducated Malfoy. While my mother may be a Muggle-born, the Potter lineage dates back thousands of years. The origin of your family is much more intriguing. Let me see if I can recall correctly: a few hundred years ago, your ancestors, who were farmers if I remember correctly, came to England. Then, she birthed a Squib, who married another Squib and had a child. Then they kept marrying, and your family kept making and earning money until they were rich enough that no one cared or bothered to research your ancestors anymore. Your family only became truly famous when there were no Muggle-borns or Squibs left in your family. So, I wouldn't badmouth Muggle-borns, as your family wouldn't exist without them."
Draco's face contorted with rage. "You're lying!" he yelled, the accusation reverberating through the classroom.
"Am I? By Merlin, I would've thought someone with as much Pureblood as you would at least research their family history. Almost every book on ancient magical families can tell you the same, Malfoy," Harry retorted, his voice carrying an air of authority. "Now, I'd suggest you take a seat, Malfoy."
The confrontation left the classroom in an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the shocked gasps of some students. Draco, still seething with anger, glared at Harry before reluctantly taking a seat. The atmosphere in the room shifted, and as Professor McGonagall continued the lesson, the lingering tension between the two rivals added an extra layer of complexity to the magical education at Hogwarts.
"Oh yeah, what will you do if I refuse?" Draco retorted defiantly. Harry appeared momentarily lost in thought, his eyes narrowing as if contemplating his next move. Suddenly, a mischievous grin spread across his face.
"I'll tell your mother you're misbehaving," Harry declared with a wicked glint in his eyes.
"My mother?!" Draco burst out in disbelief, prompting a few suppressed chuckles from the surrounding students.
"Yes, your mother," Harry nodded, maintaining his composure. "From the Black family, of which I am the heir."
"I'm the heir!" Draco shouted, his face flushing with indignation.
Harry calmly responded, "Yes, there's a small issue, that's not you. My godfather is the current head of the Black family. When he dies, it passes to me. I could dissolve the marriage between your mother and father. To pay off the debts, and, well, it'd be incredibly embarrassing for you."
Draco's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and anger playing on his face. "You wouldn't dare!"
Harry leaned in, his expression unyielding. "Try me, Malfoy. Hogwarts might not be the best place to resolve family matters, but it seems you've left me with no choice."
The threat hung in the air, and as the tension escalated, the classroom witnessed an unexpected power play between two heirs of ancient wizarding families. The looming conflict hinted at more than just personal animosity, adding an intriguing layer to the complex dynamics within the magical world.
"You're right," Harry said with a calm smile. "I don't interfere in other families, so that was unfortunately an empty threat as I have no intention of carrying it out. But the purpose was to make you think. You don't know me, Malfoy, and you don't know what I'm capable of. If you were a true Slytherin, you'd watch and plan, but instead, you come in here and try to start a fight. You fit the stereotype perfectly. You're a disgrace to your house and to all Purebloods. Now, either see yourself to your seat or elseā¦"
Draco, taken aback by Harry's unexpected response, hesitated for a moment before begrudgingly retreating. He chose a seat on the other side of the classroom, as far away from Harry as he could manage. The other students looked at Harry with a newfound sense of respect and surprise, their eyes reflecting a mix of admiration and astonishment. Hermione, on the other hand, shot him a disapproving look for causing a scene.
Daphne and Tracy, sitting nearby, had their jaws dropped in astonishment. Harry turned to the two and, with a gentle smile, reached over to close their open mouths. The unexpected confrontation had left an indelible mark on the dynamics of the class, and Harry's handling of the situation had earned him both respect and curiosity from his peers. As the Transfiguration lesson resumed, Hogwarts bore witness to the unfolding chapters of an extraordinary tale, one that promised to defy the expectations and stereotypes ingrained in the wizarding world.
Once the shock settled among the students, the rest of the class took their seats. Harry noticed a boy, Neville Longbottom, still unsure about where to sit. Harry pointed to the empty seat beside him, offering a friendly gesture. Neville, though visibly nervous, mustered the courage to sit down next to him.
A few minutes later, Ron and Adrian burst into the room, both wearing smiles that faded quickly when they realized there were no teachers present. "We're lucky," Adrian remarked to Ron. "McGonagall would've killed us if we were late."
Harry was taken aback by Adrian's statement. Didn't he know that McGonagall was an Animagus? Surely, after all these years, he would have noticed if he really lived with Dumbledore. "I know," Ron agreed. "Can you imagine the look on her face if we were late?"
"You won't have to imagine it for too long," Harry interjected, catching the attention of both boys.
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, puzzled.
Harry pointed at the cat on the desk. "She's right there!"
"Are you mad?" Ron laughed. "That's just a stupid cat."
Harry raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Take a closer look, Ron."
As Ron's eyes followed Harry's pointed finger, realization dawned on his face. The cat on the desk, seemingly ordinary, now held a subtle air of magic about it. Ron's laughter faltered, and he exchanged a glance with Adrian, who seemed equally surprised.
Before they could ponder the revelation further, the cat transformed into Professor McGonagall. The stern Transfiguration teacher fixed them with a disapproving stare. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Mr. Pucey, I trust you find this amusing?" she queried, her tone laced with a mixture of irritation and disappointment. The classroom erupted into restrained snickers as the trio fumbled for an appropriate response, realizing they had unwittingly played witness to the extraordinary abilities of their Animagus professor.
Before more could be said, the seemingly ordinary 'stupid cat' leaped off the desk and transformed into the stern Professor McGonagall. Ron's jaw dropped, and Harry looked exceptionally pleased with himself.
"Ten points to Slytherin for recognizing that I'm an Animagus, Mr. Potter," she acknowledged, her tone holding a hint of approval. She then turned her gaze to the other two. "May I now ask why you two were late?"
Ron hesitated for a moment before admitting, "We... overslept."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, her stern expression unyielding. "Well, perhaps next time, I could transform one of you into a pocket watch so at least one of you can come here on time. Find your seats now, and Mr. Malfoy, that's twenty points from Slytherin and two weeks of detention for your earlier remarks about Muggle-borns!"
Draco's face turned pale as the repercussions of his actions sank in. The room fell into a hushed silence as the students scrambled to their seats. McGonagall's no-nonsense approach had an immediate effect, and the class proceeded with a newfound understanding of the consequences that accompanied their actions. As Harry took his seat, he couldn't help but exchange a subtle grin with Neville, who had unknowingly become a part of the eventful start to the school year at Hogwarts.
As the pair took their seats, McGonagall delved into the intricacies of Transfiguration, emphasizing its inherent dangers and stressing the importance of following her instructions precisely. She distributed needles to each student and instructed them to transfigure it into a matchstick.
Harry, seemingly nonchalant, lazily waved his wand over the needle, effortlessly transforming it into a matchstick. He handed it back to McGonagall, who looked astonished, carefully examining the matchstick before fixing her gaze on Harry.
"That was quick," she remarked, her eyes narrowing in scrutiny. She then turned the needle back into a matchstick and handed it to Harry. "Please show me."
Harry, this time remembering that he should audibly say the incantation, repeated the process, and the matchstick smoothly transformed back into a needle.
"My goodness, that's impressive, Mr. Potter. I dare say your father would be proud; he was excellent in Transfiguration. Take 10 points for Slytherin," McGonagall commended with a rare hint of approval.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied with a gracious smile. As she walked away, he turned his attention to helping Daphne and Tracy, who had also managed the transfiguration successfully. Hermione Granger, though close, didn't quite match Harry's proficiency, and Neville Longbottom continued to struggle, leaving Harry puzzled about the reason behind his difficulties.
After the Transfiguration class concluded, Harry, Daphne, and Tracy exited the room engaged in conversation when Hermione decided to walk beside them.
"How did you do that?!" she demanded, an accusing tone in her voice.
"I've done many things; could you please be more specific?" Harry replied, feigning innocence.
"You did it before me," she pointed out.
"And your point?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"How did you do it?"
"McGonagall explained how in class," Harry answered nonchalantly, "not my fault if you didn't pay attention."
"I did pay attention!" she snapped defensively. "But you still did it before me; you must have cheated!"
"Willpower, intent," Harry explained, his tone patient. "That's all I used. I just focused on what I wanted the needle to turn into and paid attention to the details. It's really not that complicated."
"But that can't be!" Hermione protested, seemingly frustrated by the simplicity of Harry's explanation.
Harry shrugged, "Sometimes, magic is about simplicity, Hermione. Not everything requires elaborate spells and incantations. It's about understanding and intent."
As the trio continued their conversation, Hermione appeared deep in thought, grappling with the notion that perhaps there were aspects of magic that transcended her meticulous approach to learning. The dynamics within the group hinted at the diverse perspectives and skills that each student brought to Hogwarts, setting the stage for a year full of surprises and discoveries.
"Listen, Granger," Daphne interrupted, her tone assertive. "It's exactly what Harry told us in class. Believe it or not, but stop bothering us."
Daphne then grabbed Harry's arm and began pulling him along, eager to walk faster. Tracy raced alongside them, swiftly creating some distance between themselves and Hermione. In the midst of their brisk walk, Daphne suddenly realized she was still holding onto Harry's arm and promptly let go. Harry, for his part, remained silent, a small smile playing on his lips. Tracy, however, wasn't about to let the moment pass without comment.
"Alright, Daphne," she teased. "I appreciate you protecting your friend from the evil Miss Granger."
"He's not my friend," Daphne replied, avoiding eye contact with either of them.
"Let it go, Tracy," said Harry. "Anyway, I'm grateful she saved me from Granger as a thank you." He leaned in and kissed Daphne on the cheek before walking a bit faster than her, evidently amused by the reaction he expected from her. Tracy, too, couldn't help but be entertained by the unfolding dynamics between the trio.
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