January to June 1992, 1st year
There wasn't much to first year that really stayed in Harry's mind, nothing noteworthy to remember apart from the fact that he had found two friends. Schoolwork was boring, the huge man that was the groundskeeper got very weird whenever he was around Harry and people were still whispering behind Harry's back. But that last one had gradually subsided and Harry was hopeful it would stop soon. Just a few more months of being the same person – very uninteresting, nothing new to gossip about.
Around Easter, the groundskeeper set his hut on fire, which served Harry's plan perfectly. Even after the rumours about an illegal dragon being the cause had died down, no one returned to whispering about him. Harry was very pleased about that. Weird he might be, but the huge man had indirectly helped him, after all.
The exams at the end of the schoolyear were tedious, but no trouble at all. Thanks to Theodore and Susan, Harry was well-versed in all the theoretical nonsense and the practical parts had never been a problem to begin with. His friends were satisfied with their own performances, too. He did develop a persistent headache during those weeks, but he could not figure out what was causing it – it certainly wasn't any unnecessary stress over the exams.
The headache disappeared shortly after exams were over, though. Just when Professor Quirrel went missing, which Harry admittedly only noticed because of all the rumours circulating. No official statement had been made, but it was well-known that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching post was jinxed and had often led to the weirdest incidents. Harry did not bother to verify any of the claims, so he did not know how much of those wild stories about lethal staircase incidents, Hinkypunk abductions, sudden outbursts of insanity and time-travel-portals in the Forbidden Forest was actually true. They were fascinating to listen to, though.
So Harry did not know what had actually happened to Professor Quirrel, nor did anyone else it seemed – not even the old headmaster.
"Would you like a lemon drop, Harry?"
I would like for you to not call me by my first name, Harry thought. But what he said was, "No, thank you, sir."
The old man leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his chest, and looked at Harry with those piercing, bright blue eyes. He had called Harry into his office on the last day of the term for some reason Harry did not know.
"I assume you have heard about Professor Quirrel?"
"I have heard he disappeared," Harry said. "But no one knows what happened."
"Do you, perhaps, have an idea, my boy?"
"No, sir."
Why would he? There was no reason for Harry to know. He didn't have anything to do with Professor Quirrel's disappearance. But the old man apparently thought he did for some unfathomable reason. Very strange.
"I see," the old man said slowly. "That is indeed unfortunate."
Harry felt his eyebrow twitch. He hoped the motion was hidden by his hair, but the old man was too busy staring at him with those irritatingly twinkling eyes, anyway. It almost felt as if he could look into Harry's head like this, read his mind, find all his secrets – wait, did mind reading magic exist? He would have to keep that in mind to look up at a later point. If it did, indeed, exist, and the old man was using it on his students – surely, there was a law against that?
"It can't be helped." The old man heaved a great sigh and shook his head. "I was hoping you could help me, my dear boy."
But why?
"Now. Let us move on from this heavy topic. What are your plans for the summer? I'm sure your aunt and uncle are looking forward to have you back with them."
Yeah, sure. As if anyone would look forward to have their weird, frightening nephew with them – after he had just come back from a school that taught him all about the things he could do with his Gift that he hadn't known about before, all about new ways to utilize it to terrorize his lovely family. Not that Harry would do that. Harry had no need to do that. The Dursleys already knew that it was better to leave him alone.
"I was hoping to visit a friend," Harry said carefully.
What did the old man care about his summer, anyway?
"Ah," the old man said, his eyes still twinkling. "Young Miss Bones? What a lovely young layd she is. I am sure you two will have a great friendship ahead of you. Or maybe even more than that?"
Harry was so startled that the old man knew who he was friends with and all the implications he had just made that he forgot to keep the 'no' to himself.
The twinkling instantly disappeared. "Young Mister Nott, then. I am afraid that might not be a very good idea. You see, Mister Nott's father was once one of Lord Voldemort's followers."
Harry narrowed his eyes. He might be the headmaster, but he knew far too much about his students than was normal.
"Would he not be in prison, if that were the case?"
"Ah, indeed. But Mister Nott, as so many have, claims to have been under the Imperius Curse – a very powerful spell that can force the caster's will upon his victims."
"So he is innocent."
"We shall never know the truth, but it never hurts to be wary – you would do well to be careful around Mister Nott, Harry."
"I believe children to be entirely different people than their parents, sir," Harry said politely. "I will continue to treat Theodore like any other person unless he gives me cause to do otherwise."
"A noble attitude, my boy. Let us hope it does not turn out to be folly, in the end."
Harry's brow twitched again. It was official now: He hated the old man.
It took a while to extract himself from the situation and escape the headmaster's office. Theodore was still waiting for Harry next to the Gargoyle that guarded the entrance and Harry led him a few corridors away, before recounting what the old man had said to him.
"That was very nice of you to say," Theodore commented.
Harry snorted. "'Nice', uh-huh. I know who your father is. I don't care. The old man can try to meddle as much as he wants, we are friends."
"'Friends'," Theodore repeated, tilting his head, a careful expression on his face. "And you are positive that you want this friendship? I do not see how you profit from it. And now that Professor Dumbledore has taken an interest in you, he will surely continue to try convincing you to cut ties with me."
"So what? It's not like he can decide my life for me. He can try all he wants, he won't succeed."
"They say that he is a very powerful wizard."
"Pff," Harry shrugged. "Like I said: He can try all he wants."
"Oh?" Theodore narrowed his eyes. "Are you implying to be more powerful than Albus Dumbledore, Defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald?"
Harry smirked. "I said no such thing, Theo. Wherever did you get that idea from?"
"Ah, I see. Very well then. I see that my first impression of you still holds true. You are very special, Harry Potter."
"I prefer the word 'gifted', actually."
Theodore inclined his head. "Gifted, then."
"You understand me, Theo." Harry laughed. "That's why I like you so much."
His friend tried to keep the pleased expression from his face, but Harry caught it all the same.
o
Harry gave the crowd entering the Great Hall a dismayed look. "I don't want to go to the feast."
"Then we won't go," Theodore said.
"Whyever not?" said a familiar voice.
"Why should we?" Harry returned.
"You can't just skip the feast," Susan said. "Everyone has to attend the end-of-the-year feast. And Slytherin won the House Cup!"
Harry shrugged. "I don't like crowds. And noisy people." He exchanged a look with Theodore. "And nosy people." The headmaster would be there, after all, sitting on his throne and twinkling at people.
Susan stared at him for a moment. Then she sighed. "We could go to the kitchens instead."
"You know where the kitchens are located?"
"They're right next to our common room", she said smugly. "It's quite convenient."
Theodore muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Hufflepuffs', but Susan didn't hear him.
They had just turned away and started to make their way to the staircases, when a snide voice said, "Where do you think you're going?" It was the blonde boy, his two minions looming behind him. "The feast is about to start."
"That is none of your business," Harry said.
"But we won the House Cup! You have to be there!"
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Who says we won't?"
"What – You – You're obviously planning on skipping!"
"If you say so." Harry inclined his head. "Have a good day." And then he turned around and continued down the stairs, leaving the blonde boy behind, spluttering.
Susan led them to a brightly lit corridor, decorated with paintings full of various foods, until they came to a halt in front of one with a bowl of fruit.
"You have to tickle the pear," she told them conspiratorially, while doing so, and then the pear giggled and turned into a green door handle.
The kitchen was enormous, with stone walls and a high ceiling reminiscent of the Great Hall's if it weren't enchanted. There were also five tables identical to those in the Great Hall on which tiny creatures were putting all the food for the feast.
All around the room were tables and stoves and pots and pans and the occasional fireplace.
The little creatures had oversized heads with pointed ears and bulging eyes and were wearing tea-towels bearing the Hogwarts crest. It took a while for Harry to recognize them as house-elves – he had never seen one before, after all, only read about them in books.
"How may Krafty be helping the young masters?" one of the elves asked, bowing deeply before them.
"Oh, we don't want to impose," Susan said, looking rueful all of a sudden. "I'm sorry. You're all so busy with preparations for the feast right now, we didn't want to …"
"It is no problem, young masters," the elf said politely. "Krafty is here to help. What may Krafty be doing for you?"
Susan still looked rather stricken, so Harry decided to step in. "If it is no trouble to you, we would like a light meal for each of us."
The house-elf bowed and then snapped her fingers and Harry watched in fascination as a small table and three stools appeared out of thin air. Then the elf levitated tableware and some bowls and a jug of pumpkin juice over and bowed again.
Harry thanked the elf and gently steered Susan over to the little table.
She still looked unhappy.
"It's fine. She said it was no trouble," Harry assured her.
"But still …" Susan bit her lip and looked over to the busy elves. "I should have known. Of course they would be busy with the feast. It was a stupid idea."
Harry sighed. "I don't understand why you're so hung up about this."
"Because I care! House-elves have feelings too!"
Harry raised his hands placatingly. "Of course they do. But they didn't complain, did they?"
"They wouldn't. House-elves aren't allowed to speak ill of their masters."
"Okay."
"'Okay'?"
Harry shrugged, picked up his fork and began to eat. Susan kept staring at him incredulously, then looked at Theodore, who had begun eating when Harry had, and huffed.
"You are impossible," she said, but then she began eating, too.
"Speaking of impossible," Harry said. "Do you know any magical means of transportation one might use to get around in the Muggle world?"
Susan blinked. "Well, if you're in the Muggle world, I suppose there won't be any Floo available. And we're too young to apparate. There's the Knight Bus. Nothing for weak stomachs, but it's cheap and you only need your wand to summon it."
Harry nodded. "The Knight Bus. I will remember that, thank you."
Susan eyed him suspiciously. "Why are you asking?"
Harry gave her the warm smile he had practiced. "I don't want to burden my aunt with taking me to Diagon Alley for my school supplies. She's not very comfortable around magic and I can't have her waiting around for me all day until I'm finished – that would be rather unfair to her, don't you think?"
They stayed in the kitchens, watching the house-elves work, until the empty pudding plates and bowls had returned and they could be pretty sure that the feast was over. Susan complained about missing the whole event, but when Harry pointed out that she could just leave and join her housemates, she scowled at him and told him not to be ridiculous. Sometimes, Harry didn't understand her.
They parted ways, then, Susan joining the Hufflepuffs coming down the stairs, Harry and Theodore going further down to the dungeons to their own common room.
The exam results came out the next day and Harry was unsurprised to have received full marks in every practical part and nearly full marks in the theoretical ones. And then all their things were packed, their trunks ready, and it was time to depart for Hogsmeade station.
Harry didn't want to be held up by the groundskeeper.
"Harry," the huge man said, putting himself in Harry's way, giving Harry no way of escape. "How have yeh bin? I got yeh this …" He handed Harry a leather-bound book. "Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos … Knew yeh didn' have any … D'yeh like it?"
Aunt Petunia had no pictures of her sister in the house, that was true, but how the huge man had known that was beyond Harry. He opened the book to find pictures of what he presumed were his parents – magical photos of people that moved around and laughed at each other or smiled brightly at the camera. Harry didn't need this, but it was a nice gesture, he supposed.
He looked up at the huge man. "Thank you."
The man smiled and patted his shoulder – with just a bit too much force to be gentle – and said, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, "I knew yeh'd like it."
Harry was glad that he had a train to board, which served as a perfect excuse and didn't make it look like he was running away.
He leafed through the photo album during the first part of the journey back to London, just out of curiosity, with Susan leaning over his shoulder and making the occasional comment, while Theodore resolutely was not jealous at all and definitely reading his book. Harry made it up to him during the second part of the journey by encouraging Susan to spend some time with her housemates and engaging Theodore in a conversation about the Dark Arts book he had given Harry for Christmas.
The journey went by quickly like that, spent with his two friends, and Harry found himself looking forward to the next term. It was a nice feeling.