AN: I do not own Harry Potter or the Wizarding World Universe.
Thank you for the reviews and kind words.
I'm not sure why a review didn't come through and post, but it was submitted by a Guest. They pointed out that an adult referring to students as "badgers" and "snakes" was cringey. For an educator to see things this way, they are absolutely correct.
I would like to point out that the four Houses are very much a major part of the foundational structure of Harry Potter's Magical Great Britain. These professors spend the majority of their lives dealing with students. They are with them, at minimum, 9 - 10 months at a time, including breaks. The House Point system creates competition and thus, an enemy, in the minds of some. When, in canon, the Slytherins win the House Cup for several years in a row, some foul play would likely be suspected. The founder chose an ideology where the ends justify the means.
"Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends."
Severus Snape is the Head and role model of the House. He is known to take points from all except his students. Professor Sprout is also shown to have become "somewhat distant" to Harry during canon events of the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric, and by extension Hufflepuff, were and are her adopted children, at least to my mind. I ask then if any parent wouldn't take a us-versus-them stance on something as divisive as the Founding Houses.
It isn't like that is a major point of the story between Sirius Black and his family or Ron Weasley and his family's stance on Slytherins.
She is meant to be flawed. Shaped by her environment and upbringing and yet retains true the core tenants of Hufflepuff. Loyalty to her House and charges. Indignation at the injustice of letting Severus abuse his power. Fairness when considering what other Houses and her own student's strengths and weakness are. I would argue that Modesty, when it comes to her House, is not one of this Pomona Sprout's strengths. She 100% sees her House as the best of all three.
Chapter 6
Harry finished writing his essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts and sat back with a sigh. He looked between the two parchments. The one on his left filled the page front and back, while the other was just enough to measure eleven inches. He rolled up the larger parchment and slid it into his messenger bag.
Granger from Gryffindor glared at him from across the Library. She'd come over uninvited and tried to tell him his essay was wrong. He knew it was; that was the point. While he didn't have to do Dudley's homework, it was much easier to write a detailed essay that went over the required length and then do another that was the right length. It was a strange way to measure homework. So far, he'd gotten Acceptables on every assignment.
At first, he did it because that's what he was used to. However, he continued because he didn't want to stand out even more. The others, even the teachers, thought he was weird or stupid. He didn't talk unless forced. He didn't socialize with everyone but listened closely to what they said. He didn't sit in the Common Room like all the other Hufflepuffs. He also didn't want to go out and explore the Castle.
No, Harry Potter, that Boy-Who-Lived image was a disappointment to many. The Weasley boy told him as much. For some strange reason, the older Weasley twins from Gryffindor tried to cheer him up with chocolates. Harry didn't eat them and was glad. Fred, or George, ate the chocolate, and his ears blew steam out of them momentarily. The twin had a massive grin as he high-fived his other half. Harry didn't laugh but stared at the chocolate. That was crazy magic, and he wanted to ask how they did that so he wouldn't make that mistake. From then on, he stayed well away from those two pranksters.
The small things that everyone else seemed to ignore fascinated him. There were paintings that interacted with each other, sometimes even leaving their portraits to visit one on another floor. He also found vases with dancing little creatures that moved to an unheard rhythm. A huge door in the wall faded in and out of existence near the Potions classroom. The list went on and on. He knew he might spend hours marveling at the magic, but learning how to create or do magic interested him more.
Everyone made an issue about what happened with Professor Snape. Harry was used to bullies, and everything about the Potions Master reminded him of Vernon and Dudley. Anger. Hatred. Every Tuesday and Thursday were going to be bad days. It was alright. At least all the days at Hogwarts weren't bad. In fact, Harry was having the best time of his life.
"Featured in the Prophet again, Potter," a sneering voice greeted as Draco Malfoy and his gang of miscreants appeared from behind the stacks in the Library. Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Crabbe, and Goyle were the prominent six members of Malfoy's little gang. Harry had learned quite a bit in the two weeks since arriving.
Harry gave them a witless smile. That seemed to anger Malfoy. "They even printed it, my little name for you - The Duffer-Who-Lived. Hah," he mocked.
Harry peered at the moving photo. There he was, on one of the school brooms, lazily floating to the left and off the page. That had been a wonderful day. He hadn't realized how much he loved being on a broom, but he knew precisely when someone must have taken the picture.
He'd just seen the Castle with the vast expanse of the Forbidden Forest behind it going as far as the eye could see towards a hilly range of mountains and valleys.
"Yes… Father did say this was the smartest side of you they could find. Can't have the Boy-Who-Lived looking too stupid. What? Nothing to say, Potter? Ohhh rightttt, you can't," the blonde boy sneered.
Harry looked up at him, careful to look at his mouth. He smiled again and went back to his parchment. Movement out of the corner of his eye told him that Malfoy was about to do something. What he did shocked Harry because of how monumentally stupid it was.
"Diffindo!" the Slytherin cried. However, the Severing Charm missed the quill and hit the open library book.
An unholy wail, as if something had died, shattered the silence of the Library. Malfoy looked startled and turned to run, as did his friends. However, something snatched him off the ground.
"Malfoy! You destroyed my book! You are henceforth banned from ever stepping foot in here again," Madam Pince, the Librarian, bellowed.
Malfoy's friends abandoned him as they ran for the exit.
"Potter," Malfoy tried to say.
"No, I watched your gang of hooligans. You will pay for damaging my property, and even your Father won't be able to save you." Madam Pince looked at Harry. She scowled. Anger. "You will take the book you borrowed from my stacks, place it on my desk, and await my return. Do you understand me?" she demanded.
Harry nodded and put his things away. He picked up the damaged book backing and carefully collected the scattered pages. In silence, he waited at the big table at the front of the Library. Most of his left index finger was red from how much he had rubbed his thumb against it recently.
Madam Pince returned and stood before him with her hands on her hips. Disappointment. "You took possession of my book when you took it from the stacks. It is your job to ensure it does not get damaged. Now, do you know how to fix it?" she demanded.
Harry shook his head quickly. He couldn't repair something like this with a simple Mending Charm.
The Librarian sighed and looked at him. Disappointment. "Mr. Potter. This is no longer up for discussion. You will attempt to fix the book," she said as her lips pursed together. "Take out your wand and do it, now."
Harry looked between her and the book.
"I will not tell you again, or you will also be banned."
Harry gulped and quickly took out his wand. He took a deep breath. Safety First: A Student's Guide to Magical Awareness by Dora Spellwright was not an interesting book. It talked about magical auras, spotting dangers, and recognizing harmful intent. So far, it hadn't taught Harry anything, judging by how Malfoy acted.
Harry looked at the book and all the pages. He imagined them fitting back together along the perfectly straight cut through the right side of the book. "Reparo," he whispered as he moved the tip of his wand in a partial spiral. No light emitted from his wand, and the back cover and the first three pages knitted themselves back to the book. He frowned. It took seven more tries to get the entire book back together.
"Well… got there in the end," the Librarian said with crossed arms. Harry didn't want to look at her. He handed the book back.
"You are welcome back into my Library. However, you must stay within the main section where I can see you. It is clear that you are more than what you show to others. Much like my books," she said softly. She crouched down just a little to look Harry directly in the eyes. "This Library has every book you will ever need to succeed. Do not take that for granted. As for your Mending Charm, Read Spellbound Repairs: A Handy Charm Guide by Percival Wicks and Practical Spellwork: Everyday Repairs for Witches and Wizards.
This is my domain," Madam Pince said firmly. Pride. "While the professors and even the Headmaster are masters of their chosen field, this is mine. Every single subject that has ever been taught at Hogwarts has multiple books for you to read about. I have eleven books on the Mending Charm alone. Each book addresses a fault of another book or reinforces something important. Every subject, Mr. Potter. Make this your home, and you will soar far beyond your peers," she promised.
Harry nodded and looked at the Library again. There were a lot of books. It took him a moment to realize that she wasn't angry at him but rather for her book. He turned back to her and looked her in the eyes. "Thank you," he whispered before nodding and heading out of the Library for his Common Room.
"You know, you should have been in Ravenclaw," Macmillan joked at dinner the following night. The stout boy raised a silver goblet as if giving a toast.
Harry turned to his dormmate and shook his head. The Sorting Hat had been clear. He wouldn't have done well.
"No? Mate, you read even more than Granger, and that is saying something. When was the last time you sat in the Common Room or… went outside to… enjoy the day? The only time we see you outside is for Herbology."
Harry raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, which elicited a chorus of groans from the nearby Hufflepuffs. "Potter… do you seriously like being in the Castle that much? Don't you like the wind on your face? The sun in your eyes and the smell of… well, fresh air?" Jones asked. She looked at the others, who all seemed to nod.
Harry smiled his witless smile.
"Oh, that doesn't work on us, Potter," Bones snorted. "We see what you work on. If you're dumb, then the rest of us are trolls."
Harry shook his head. "Madam Pince," he said softly.
All of his Housemates froze. As one, they looked at him. Some had expressions of horror, and others were confused. "Did… you say something?" Diggory asked slowly.
Harry gave them all his best witless grin and shook his head. Twenty pairs of eyes blinked at him at once, or at least it felt like it.
"Real comedian," Finch-Fletchley snorted.
Harry did speak, but not that often and only to a few people. Their Head of House's body language constantly screamed anxiety to him whenever he was around her. Harry knew anxious well. That was him in the mirror. Talking to people made him nervous, but he tried to hide it.
Malfoy's punishment in the Library didn't last long. His Head of House spoke with Madam Pince and managed to get him reinstated. She demanded that he pay for the ruined book and then some. Somehow, the Library gained about a hundred more books the week after the public confrontation between Professor Snape and Madam Pince. The next day, Malfoy was allowed back in and had to sit at a special table at the front of the Library. He was not pleased and grumbled about his Father.
"Potter! Why is the liquid in your cauldron light blue and not blue? Five points from Hufflepuff," the Potions Master hissed as he passed Harry's station in double Potions.
Harry frowned and reread the recipe. The Cure For Boils should have been a deep blue, emitting pink smoke when completed. Well, Harry was done, and it didn't emit any colors. He looked over everything again and turned to his partner, Daisy Harper, a fellow Hufflepuff. She frowned and looked over the recipe as well.
"I… think we forgot all of the horned slugs?" she half-said, half-asked.
Harry looked around their table and then on the floor. Nothing was missing. He frowned and pointed to the part about where they were to stir five times, clockwise.
"I'm pretty sure I did five times. Start at the back of the cauldron and count to five, right?" she snorted.
Harry looked around. At least the color of their liquid was blue. Somehow, Macmillan and Cauldwell had a red color in their cauldron. He shrugged and looked back at Harper.
"We could… turn back on the heat?"
Harry shook his head quickly and pointed to the step that told them to take the cauldron off the fire.
"I could stir it again?" she mused and went to pick up the large metal ladle.
Harry shook his head. "I… think we've done what we can," he said slowly.
She frowned and smiled. "Do you think it was him?" she asked with a jerk of her chin toward the front of the room.
Harry shrugged. The professor hated him as much as Vernon did, maybe more. At least Professor Snape hadn't hit him with a belt, paddle, or fist like his uncle. That was nice. He expected it after that second class. It was like bullies to do that. Hit things that they didn't like.
The professor stumbled and nearly overturned Mandy and Chamber's cauldron for some reason. He glared back at Harry.
Anger. Hate.
"Ah, think about being beaten and starved, and all the bullies pick up on it. Maybe that book on magical auras was right. Wizards and Muggles pick up on that type of stuff. It must be a bullying thing. Wanting to find someone weaker to feel good about themselves," he thought with a mental shrug. Outwardly, he made no move or reaction that might give away that he'd seen the stumble. Predators picked up on fear. Never show any fear. Pain goes away after a time.
The Potions Master seemed off for the rest of the lesson, not that there was much left of the class. Harper bottled their potion in one vial each and handed it to the professor for grading while Harry cleaned up their station.
"Defense after lunch," Lowe groaned. "I wish we could do that Bubble-head thing because the garlic smell always makes me want to puke after lunch."
Several students, even the Ravenclaws, nodded as they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.
Professor Quirrell was… wrong. Harry didn't like him from the first lesson. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher stuttered a lot and was afraid to even talk about a vampire. The others claimed he'd had a run-in with one over the summer, but… well… Harry didn't know what to think. Professor Quirrell was not afraid. Harry knew fear.
Dudley's gang made other boys and Harry feel fear. Real fear for his safety not only at home but also in school. The boys and a few girls that Dudley and his gang managed to corner all got hurt. It was known to anyone that if you saw all four boys together, run. They were hunting.
Fear.
Professor Quirrell didn't have fear. The other problem with Defense Against the Dark Arts, at least for Harry, was that his head, specifically his scar, hurt a lot in the class. He quite liked the smell of garlic, especially if cooked with olive oil and onions. So, he didn't have the same problem as Lowe or several other students. At least, he didn't think so.
"W-welcome b-back to Defense Against the D-dark Arts. N-now, now, I… I know some of you may feel… s-scared at the thought of f-facing the D-dark Arts, b-but r-rest assured, you w-won't b-be doing so unprepared. Th-this class will give you the b-basic tools to p-protect yourselves. Ah, n-not that y-you should go seeking danger, of course! Heavens, n-no.
F-first rule of d-defense is… is awareness. The D-dark Arts are… s-sneaky, yes, very sneaky. Th-they don't always a-announce themselves with… w-with a loud bang! S-sometimes it's a subtle charm, or a… a cursed object. Y-you must learn to t-trust your instincts. Ah, y-yes, your instincts.
T-today, w-we'll be learning a s-simple spell—ah, s-simple but effective. The… the Knockback Jinx. Ah, Flipendo. V-very useful if you find yourself… c-cornered by an unfriendly wizard, or, ah, or even an a-aggressive t-troll. I-it's not a spell to be u-used lightly, n-no! Always r-remember: d-defense, not… n-not aggression.
Now, repeat after me: Fuh-fuh… Flipendo! K-keep your wand steady! N-not like th-that, Mr. Weasley, ah, yes… y-you might accidentally knock your own feet out from under y-you. T-trust me, I've seen it happen.
I w-would demonstrate, b-but… ah, yes, the d-dummy… p-perhaps one of you brave souls w-would like to, ah… to try? R-remember: steady wand, clear intent, and… and don't panic!"
Harry stood on one side of the room with all the other students. Feathers were on the row of desks in the middle of the room. The object was to hit the feather with the Knockback Jinx. Oliver Rivers and Mandy stood on either side of him. His compartmentmates. The only one missing was Dunbar, but she was in Gryffindor.
"Think you'll do it, Potter? Hit the feather?" Rivers smirked.
"He has to speak first," Mandy laughed. "I hear he does, though. Just not to the likes of us."
Harry looked at them before aiming his wand at the feather across from him. "Flipendo," he said softly. An orange jet of light shot from his wand and hit the desk instead. It rocked and almost overturned but didn't fall. He shrugged.
"Well…" Mandy muttered. "I guess I need to do better than that."
Oliver didn't say anything. He just glared at Harry.
"Twenty inches!" someone in the Common Room groaned. "Are you joking me? How in Merlin's pants do you do twenty inches on Banishing Charms?"
Harry peeked around the large plant on the banister near one of the fireplaces near the back of the Common Room. A tall girl with long raven hair stomped her foot and glared at something on the table.
"Calm down, Lily," one of the boys with her laughed.
"Do not tell me to calm down!" the witch said as she spun on him, finger pointing like it was her wand. "I will rat you out to Pindlebrook if you so much as cross me today."
The boy got a very familiar look on his face, and his body tensed. Fear. Harry nodded. That was the correct expression.
He went back to his essay on the Mending Charm. After following what Madam Pince told him, he found a new level of respect for the unpopular witch. A lot of people didn't like her for some reason. However, after watching him try the Mending Charm, she knew exactly what books Harry should read. How was that not amazing?
He checked between the two essays to ensure everything looked right. Charms with Professor Flitwick was by far his favorite class. After that, things got more complicated to rank. Astronomy was okay, but he didn't like staying up late and then having to sit a double Potions class with his least favorite teacher. Then there was Defense, or as many students called it, D.A.D.A. That was pretty bad, too. Transfiguration was hard. All the math didn't make a lot of sense to him when it was magic math. Then, some symbols meant something else.
Herbology was good, but his Head of House acted weird around him. It made him uncomfortable, and it was hard to concentrate. Being around Longbottom wasn't too bad. He knew all the answers, and Harry got to watch him. Between Longbottom's experience and Granger's knowledge, he felt confident in the practical portions of the class if he watched and listened to them.
Potions was potions. Sometimes, Harry or his partner got things right, but most of the time, it was only just close enough. So far, he hadn't melted any cauldrons, nor had anything exploded. All his marks were Acceptable.
History of Magic was when he could read other things if the Slytherins left him alone. Professor Binns always marked his essays as Acceptable or Exceeds Expectations, even when he didn't include all the information. It was weird.
"Potter, just come with us," Cauldwell complained. "It won't kill you to enjoy the weekend. Look, it's even sunny outside… even if it'll probably rain in like forty minutes," he grumbled.
Harry smiled and shook his head. He patted the cover of Light in the Shadows: A First-Year's Guide to Defense. It did a much better job of explaining things than The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.
"Harry… you really read too much," Bones sighed and put her head in her hands. Harry didn't believe her act.
"You were a natural on a broom. We can ask Madam Hooch to borrow a school broom or two," Abbott grinned. "We've got her again on Wednesday."
Harry looked at the seven people around his table. Hannah, Susan, Daisy, and Bridget all got along well and hung out together. The other three first-year Hufflepuff girls seemed to like to spend as much time away from the Common Room as possible. He privately thought there was something more going on between the dormmates. Hopkins and Macmillan were the only two boys who really liked to talk to Harry.
Finch-Fletchley, Cauldwell, and Green were like the three girls. They preferred to spend as much time away from the Library or Common Room as possible.
It was odd. There seemed to be three types of people when it came to Hufflepuffs and himself. The first wanted to talk to him all the time, even if Harry didn't answer or gave non-verbal responses. The second seemed to want nothing to do with him, which was great. The last group just watched him. Admittedly, there weren't many in that group, but they were all older students. The Prefects and Head Girl fell into that category. His Head of House fell into this category as well.
He had no idea what the rest of the school thought of him. Likely not all that good, but that was fine with him. Someone told the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper, that The Boy-Who-Lived was not at all like the stories. Thankfully, those stories made everyone more or less ignore him. He was happy about that, even if he hadn't read the newspaper articles.
Harry sighed, ensuring it was loud and very obvious. He looked at them and put away his books, parchment, and ink. Susan hadn't been paying attention to him and put a hand on his when he went to put away one of the essays he'd worked on. Her frown deepened as her eyes flicked over the page. She looked up at him, and he knew that expression. Confusion.
Harry grinned at her and took the parchment.
The afternoon wasn't all that bad. He sat on the lawn and, well… did nothing. The other Hufflepuffs, a few Gryffindors, and one Ravenclaw sat out on the lawn, talking or otherwise enjoying the sun.
It didn't last. A brief, powerful rain shower made all the students go back inside. Harry managed to slip away and head back to the dormitory. He really wanted to finish the book and return it to the Library.
"Mister Potter, where is your essay?" Professor McGonagall demanded sharply the following Tuesday. Harry blinked up at her. He rechecked his bag. Harry did the essay on Friday during History of Magic the previous week. After searching again, he grimaced and took out the black leather binder Professor Flitwick said all serious students should have to keep personal notes in. He flipped to the section for Transfiguration and found the essay, almost double the required length, and passed it to the furious professor.
Thankfully, the rest of the class went by quickly and without any issue.
"Halloween is next week," Harper said with a grin. "I love this time of year."
Harry looked between Elliot Harper and Daisy Harper. He felt foolish for not realizing that the sixth-year Prefect and his Potions partner were brother and sister.
"You just love all the mystery of it," Elliot laughed.
"Mum doesn't like it. Likes Christmas more. Thinks there's too much Dark on Halloween," Bridget Lowe said with a snort.
Harry didn't have much experience with Halloween. He wasn't allowed outside the boot room except to go to the bathroom during the special night. Now that he knew his parents were murdered on the same night, he had no wish to join in any festivities related to the holiday.
The others talked around him as they did their essays and other homework. Hufflepuff was really good about doing their assignments. Gryffindors and even Slytherins sometimes didn't turn anything in when it was due. Weasley, Finnigan, and Brown all regularly forgot to do their assignments.
"So, who was the letter from?" Harper asked with a smirk.
Harry received his first letter at Hogwarts from Hagrid, the giant who had escorted them from the train. He passed the letter to her, and she quickly read it.
"Oh… you know Hagrid?" Abbott asked with a frown.
"He's super sweet," Lowe said. "Waved to me in the corridor and helped Longbottom down off a statue that Malfoy stuck him to." She paused for a moment. "Tore his robes, and everyone saw his underpants," she snorted.
Harry heard about the incident. Malfoy claimed it wasn't him, but he did it in front of fifteen witnesses. Harry didn't think it was exactly bright to do that. Weasley also got detention for trying to hex Malfoy for calling Granger a Mudblood. Finch-Fletchley and Green saw the entire thing and told the rest of them loudly during one of their lessons with the Slytherins.
"So, are you going to go? It's an invitation," Bones asked with a frown as she took the letter from Harper.
Harry shrugged. He wasn't sure. It simply said: 'Harry, knew yer mum and dad. Would luv to talk and tell you about them. Hagrid' in scratchy, nearly illegible handwriting.
"What do you know about your parents?" Lowe asked as she took the letter from Bones.
"Dead."
They all blinked at him. He fought hard not to grin. Sometimes, he loved messing with them. Seven sets of eyes blinked at him. That was the best part. Confusion.
"Well… yes… they are," Susan said slowly. She looked at her best friend Hannah and turned back to him. "But… what do you know about them?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. He'd been told one thing by the Dursleys and found out something completely different when he entered the Wizarding World.
"Do… you care?" Harper asked gently.
It was a good question. Harry thought about it. They were gone, and it wasn't like he could meet them, not without dying. Magic could do impossible things. It might be that he could see them and talk to them. He supposed he did care. After another moment, he nodded.
"Then there is your answer. You can go… well, obviously not ask any questions," Hopkins snorted. "But, you can at least listen to Hagrid."
Harry grinned at Wayne. The chubby, dark-haired boy found it humorous that Harry didn't talk much. He was one of the few who did.
The rest of the week went by quickly. There was one incident in Potions that was not Harry's fault on Thursday. Thankfully, Professor Snape didn't take points from him for no reason. His great week abruptly ended when Professor McGonagall told him to stay after class on Friday morning. The Slytherins all found it amusing, and his Housemates shot him concerned looks.
Once everyone had left, the professor studied him. Anger. Harry had no idea what he'd done wrong to make the stern teacher angry with him. He shifted on his feet, wondering if she would yell at him or start jinxing him like Argus Filch, the caretaker, claimed happened to misbehaving students. Corporal punishment wasn't nearly as scary as being turned into a frog. He heard that was a real thing.
"Mr. Potter… I am… unhappy with your recent work, considering the essay you turned in on Tuesday," she said, her lips barely moving. Hate? No, it was something different.
Harry shrugged.
"Do not shrug at me, Mr. Potter. You turned in an Outstanding essay of much higher quality than everything else you've turned in to date. At first, I thought it was an older student who was helping you. However, no, it was not. I checked your handwriting with one of the essays I have on file, and it is yours. Mr. Potter, I want to know why you are not handing in essays like you did on Tuesday."
He stood there. Professor McGonagall wasn't looking for an answer. Harry knew that tone. It was a "you're in trouble, and anything you say will make it worse" tone. He stood perfectly still and watched her mouth.
"I asked my colleagues about your work, and they all agree that you have turned in Acceptable but not outstanding work. Then I happened to speak with Madam Pince… who said glowing things about you, Mr. Potter. It appears you are willing to speak with her but not us. Then she tells me about a black book you keep with you. Would it be the same book you pulled this from?" the professor demanded as she held up the essay.
Harry fought not to grimace. He nodded once.
"Why? Why turn in substandard work?" she asked softly.
He fought to remain still. Her body language had changed. There was something off. Not anger, not… well, he didn't know what it was. He shrugged.
"I see…" the professor said as she stood.
"Mr. Potter, you are your own wizard. I would… like you to strongly consider turning in your real work, not… whatever game you are playing. Your education is no game, and your future will depend on how you do. If you do not give me and your other professors your best, then how can we help you improve? Yes, this essay is outstanding compared to your other work, but it still has some incorrect statements. I can't help you learn if you don't take this class and all your classes seriously. Do you understand me, Potter?" the Deputy Headmistress snapped.
Anger.
Harry nodded. He was conflicted. Granger was not liked at all, even by her Housemates. People already didn't like Harry because he didn't want to talk. How would they react knowing he suddenly got marks as high as Granger? Did he want to do his best?
Did it matter?
Just as long as he never returned to the Dursleys. That was what mattered, and she hadn't said they would send him back. Crabbe and Goyle would have to go first if they got rid of students based on marks.