Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson.

Harry's POV

Whispers followed me from the moment I left my dorm. People queuing outside classrooms stood on tiptoes to get a look at me, or doubled back to pass me, again staring. I didn't notice it at first, but it had starting to make me feel uncomfortable. I really wished they wouldn't stare, it was hard enough trying to find my classes, without them getting in the way. There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping 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 mind-boggling! It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept visiting each other and I was sure the coats of armour could walk. The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through the door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point me in the right direction, but Peeves the poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if I met him when I was late for class. He would drop waste-paper 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. Nico (who had surprisingly stuck by us after taking a dislike to Malfoy), Ron and I managed to get on the wrong side of him on my very first morning. Filch found us trying to force our way through a door, which very unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe that we were lost, was sure we were trying to break into it on purpose and was threatening to lock us in the dungeons when we were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing. Filch owned a cat called Mrs Norris, a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. It would've been rather funny, if I didn't have to deal with his foul attitude. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone else (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any ghost. We all hated him and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs Norris a good kick. And then, once I had managed to find them, there were the lessons themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as I quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. We had to study the night sky through our telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week we went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where we learnt how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring lesson was History of Magic, which was the only class 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. Binns droned on and on while we scribbled down names and dates and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of my first lesson he took the register, and when he reached my name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. Professor McGonagall was again different. I had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave us a talking-to the moment we sat down in her first class.

"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. We were all impressed and I couldn't wait to get started. That was until I quickly realised I wouldn't be changing the furniture into animals for a very long time. None of us made any progress in that lesson. Well, all except Hermione, of course. She managed to make a small difference to her match. She hadn't quite transfigured it into a needle, but it had turned slightly silver and pointy. McGonagall seemed pleased, but Nico on the other hand seemed frustrated. He hadn't really got the hang of it and seemed as far back as Neville. I presumed he thought he would do really well, like in most of the other classes.

The class we had all been really looking forward to though was Defence Against the Dark Arts, but they turned out to be a bit of a joke. Quirrell's classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which I heard was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid was coming back to get him one of these days. He told us his turban had been a gift from an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but I wasn't sure I believed that. Seamus Finnigan had once asked him how he did it and Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather. Nico had pointed out that a funny smell hung around the turban, muttering about how it smelled unnatural and steering clear of him as much as possible. The Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic too, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

I was, however, relieved to discover that I wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like me, they had no idea that there were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even Ron didn't have much of a head start. Friday was a particularly good day for Nico, Ron and I. We had finally managed to find our way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once. Nico left us to go and sit at the Slytherin table, looking a little depressed as he slid onto the bench, followed by Malfoy who went to mock him. It had become a sort of habit for Malfoy now, like he enjoyed bullying Nico, which knowing him, was probably true.

"What have we got today?" I asked Ron as I poured sugar on my porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron replied, "Snape's Head of Slytherin house. They say he always favours them - we'll be able to see if that's true"

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," I muttered. Don't get me wrong, Professor McGonagall was great, but being the head of Gryffindor house hadn't stopped her giving us a huge pile of homework yesterday. We returned to our food in silence, preparing for the next lesson, when the post arrived. Hedwig hadn't brought me anything yet, but who was there to send me anything? It's not like the Dursleys would send nice, little letters. Sometimes Hedwig would fly in to nibble my ear and have a bit of toast before leaving again to stay at the owlery with the other school owls. To my surprise, this morning she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note on my plate. I tore it open at once.

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

I borrowed Ron's quill and scribbled "Yes, please, see you later" on the back of the note and sent Hedwig off again. It was lucky I had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because it turns out Potions would be the worst thing that had happened to me so far.

A/N:
Thanks for reading and let me know what you think in the reviews.
-GazelleRLG