Chapter 3: Harry's Possible New Friends

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Also the "like some common goblin," is a wizard idiom that I got at Harry Potter Fandom wiki (specifically on wizarding idioms).

Harry's misery had reached its peak. Whispers followed him wherever he went, and older students stared at him as if he were some kind of curiosity—or worse, a bug. The only person who showed him kindness was Gemma, the Slytherin prefect, who often checked on him during breakfast.

The abundance of food at Hogwarts was another adjustment for Harry. Occasionally, he tried to save leftovers, unused to eating so much at once. The tension in his new life was palpable. His fame brought hushed gossip, and while the Slytherin first-years were civil, they maintained a noticeable distance.

Draco Malfoy strutted through the house as if it were his personal kingdom. While others remained polite, they mostly avoided Harry. Crabbe and Goyle followed Draco's lead without question but rarely acknowledged Harry. Zabini and Nott limited their interactions to quiet greetings.

Harry had taken to waking early for his morning showers, avoiding potential confrontations with his dormmates. Draco had already mocked him, calling him a "like some common goblin," and implying he was of "low class."

"Haven't you heard of that?" an older Slytherin had snickered after overhearing Malfoy's insult.

Though Harry did not care for Draco's approval, he could not help wondering what the other Slytherins thought of him.

Fortunately, the weekend arrived, granting Harry a brief reprieve from the sneers and stares of other houses. Saturday morning dawned chilly and misty. Harry, accustomed to the damp weather in Surrey, found Scotland's cold harsher, especially in the perpetually chilly Slytherin dormitories. Rising early, he took a quick shower, dressed quietly to avoid waking his dormmates, and headed alone to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The Hall was alive with chatter as students enjoyed a break from classes and bonded with potential friends. Harry spotted Ron, his "first friend," laughing with a group of Gryffindors who snickered loudly as Harry walked by. Feeling a pang of disappointment, Harry sat at the Slytherin table, his queasy stomach making the idea of eating unappealing.

As he settled in, Gemma walked over, her expression kind but probing. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

Harry mumbled something vague and reached for food, hoping to end the conversation quickly. Gemma nodded and returned to her seat but glanced back at him occasionally. To avoid drawing attention, Harry forced himself to take small bites, even as his stomach churned.

A few minutes later, two fellow first-years, Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott, joined him. Theodore offered a sleepy nod, while Daphne greeted him with a neutral smile. Unsure of their intentions, Harry hesitated to speak until Daphne broke the silence.

"Sleep well?" she asked, pouring herself a cup of Earl Grey tea.

Harry shrugged. "Better than the first night," he admitted cautiously.

"Well, that's progress," Daphne replied with a faint smile before sipping her tea.

Their tentative conversation was interrupted by Draco Malfoy, who arrived with his ever-present shadows, Crabbe and Goyle. Draco's smirk was as sharp as ever.

"Potter, are you planning to exile yourself, or will you pretend you actually belong here?" Draco sneered, his eyes flicking over Harry's plain school uniform.

Harry stiffened but refused to show weakness. Despite the knot in his stomach, he replied firmly, "I'm fine where I am."

Draco's smirk faltered. He turned to Daphne and Theodore, clearly fishing for support. "What do you two think? Shouldn't Potter be off making friends with the Hufflepuffs or those ridiculous Gryffindors?"

Theodore seemed about to respond, but Daphne raised an eyebrow at Draco and beat him to it. "He is a Slytherin, Draco. Did you miss the Sorting?"

Draco's expression soured, and he stomped off with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind. Once they were out of earshot, Theodore muttered, "Good riddance."

Daphne turned back to Harry and offered some advice. "Do not let Malfoy get to you. He likes to think he is in charge, but he is not as important as he believes."

Before Harry could respond, Daphne called over to Tracy Davis to discuss something, leaving him to ponder her words. He nodded slightly in acknowledgment but could not shake his suspicion. Why was Daphne helping him? Was she genuinely kind, or did she have her own agenda?

Either way, Harry resolved to stay on guard.

After breakfast, Harry wandered the castle's corridors, trying to familiarize himself with its confusing layout. He considered visiting Hagrid, but the soaked grounds deterred him—he was not in the mood to ruin his shoes by trudging through the mud. Instead, he let his feet guide him aimlessly, exploring the ancient building's many twists and turns.

Eventually, he came upon a staircase that shifted directions as he stepped onto it, which led him to the library. Inside, he found towering shelves filled with books, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and ink. The quiet sound of pages turning filled the space as students immersed themselves in their studies. In a secluded corner, Harry discovered a comfortable chair. Picking up a random book, he found himself reading Theories of Transfiguration.

Here, in the library's stillness, Harry felt a rare sense of peace. The whispers and stares that usually haunted him were absent. For the first time in days, he felt calmer.

"Potter."

The voice startled him, and Harry looked up to see Professor Snape standing over him. The shadows between the shelves seemed to swallow Snape's dark robes, his expression unreadable.

"Professor," Harry said, sitting up straighter.

Snape's sharp eyes fell on the book in Harry's hands. "Transfiguration? I would have expected you to pore over Quidditch tactics or tales of your heroic exploits."

Harry flushed, unsure how to respond. How could he explain to Snape that he neither enjoyed nor sought out the fame that followed him?

"I wanted to read something useful," Harry said quietly.

"Useful… hmm." Snape's lips curled in what might have been disdain. A tense silence hung between them before Snape finally spoke. "There are indeed many useful books in the library. Take care of them—and ensure you do nothing foolish."

Harry nodded, unsure what else to say. Snape's piercing gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before the professor turned and vanished into the shadows.

Harry spent the rest of the day in the library, savoring the quiet and immersing himself in different books. He skipped both lunch and dinner, though he had an apple he had taken from breakfast to sustain him. As the evening fell, he returned to the Slytherin common room, his mind lingering on Snape's cryptic words. Why did Snape view him as inferior to his classmates?

Harry sank into a chair near the fireplace, lost in thought. He did not notice the concerned glance Gemma shot in his direction. His musings were interrupted when Daphne approached, carrying a chessboard.

"Care for a game?" she asked softly, setting the board and pieces on the table.

"I'm not good at this," Harry admitted, blinking in surprise.

"Good. That means I will win," Daphne replied with a smirk, sitting down across from him. She began explaining how the pieces moved.

Harry did not win, but he found himself laughing as the enchanted pieces argued with him, much to Daphne's amusement. Her patient guidance and witty remarks lightened his mood.

For the first time in days, Harry felt a flicker of hope. At least for now, he was comfortable and content, and tomorrow did not seem quite so daunting.