Harry felt euphoria for the first three days of Hogwarts. When he retrieved his schedule, he realized with displeasure that Ravenclaws had quite less classes with Gryffindor, which dampened his mood to some extent, but he quickly lightened up at the notion of exploring the castle.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. The Grey Lady was always happy to hint new Ravenclaws in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found him trying to force his way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe that he was lost, was sure he was trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when he was rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And the second-best thing were the classes, which wasn't silly wand waving and funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Thursday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Two times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for, and Harry got on her good side if he ever needed some plants.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher and his head of house, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class, he took the roll call, and when he reached Neville's name, he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight which Harry found immensely annoying.

Professor McGonagall had by far, the best class. She was clever and strict when she needs to be, with a proper technique that Harry aspired to have as he silently vowed to himself that he would have.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger and a few Ravenclaws including him had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it should have gone all silver and pointy and gave Harry a rare smile when she saw his dedication and his successful result.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Terry Boot asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins rumored that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

So, Harry had found himself in the library multiple times this week, skimming the books on all different topics regarding Defense against the Dark Arts, and History of Magic, occasionally sitting next to Hermione Granger in the library, while they both review each-other notes, correct essay drafts, and completing homework together in general.

Potions class was mediocre, minus the fact that Professor Snape was sneering at him and graded his potion an Acceptable even though he had the same color as Malfoy's cauldron and he got points and an Outstanding, something was clearly wrong with Professor Snape.

His days went by the same way, he would go to class, explore the castle with Terry and occasionally, Padma, and go to the library in his free lessons to complete his essays and read some books, eat dinner while conversing with some Ravenclaws, and then sleep. It was a boring schedule, but Harry had gone through worse.

Friday started out as normal as any other day, as Harry lead Terry and Padma through the hallways to the Great Hall, Padma holding Carina in her hands and petting her (Harry had a real shock after Carina didn't scratch Padma when she pet her).

"What do we have today?", Harry asked Padma, who was stacking chocolate eclairs on her plate, much to Terry's chagrin.

"We have double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.", Padma replied, and Terry started babbling as Harry ate his breakfast.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

No letters really came to Harry, he would occasionally pet and feed the owls that Padma or Terry got, but he didn't really get letters. This morning, however, an owl fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry,
Would you like to come to my cottage for some tea at Friday afternoon? I knew your parents and I could tell you and I want to hear about your first week. Send a reply through the owl.
Hagrid

Harry rummaged through his pockets for a quill and quickly scribbled I'll be there. See you later and sent the owl back to Hagrid, but not before feeding the owl some food.

"Who was it?", Padma asked, leaning forwards.

"Just Hagrid. He knew about my parents so…", Harry trailed off, finishing his breakfast as Padma nodded and ate her last chocolate éclair.

"Lets go to class, hm? I don't want to be late.", Terry said, promptly pushing his plate back as both Padma and Harry nodded.

-

At five to three, he left the castle and made his way across the grounds, Carina hot on his tail. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked, he heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang - back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. "Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound which Carina hissed at.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it, and two people were sitting there, Longbottom, and Ron.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Harry and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked, clearly Carina didn't understand that as she kept hissing and stepping on Fangs foot.

Harry gingerly sat down near Ron and Carina jumped up onto his lap and snuggled up, purring as Hagrid poured boiling water in a tea cup and put down some rock cakes on a plate.

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry dipped the rock cakes in the boiling tea to soften them up as Longbottom and Ron told Hagrid all about their first -lessons. Fang rested his head on Ron's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry was quite delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git." "An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Fitch puts her up to it"

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Terry, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to have a grudge of some sort.", Harry insisted, absently petting Carina.

"Rubbish!", Said Hagrid as Harry's eyes sharpened. "Why would he?", but he didn't look in Harry's eyes, a telltale sign of lying.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot - great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid and Harry all about Charlie's work with dragons, Longbottom picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet.

Longbottom's eyes widened and he slowly inserted the paper in his pocket. Longbottom and Harry had eye contact and Longbottom brought out a shaky index finger to his lip. Harry narrowed his eyes and then slowly turned back to Hagrid, he was going to find out what that newspaper said.