On the morning that classes were due to start, Hermione was surprised to find that she was not the first one awake in the Gryffindor common room. In the armchair he had claimed as his own, successfully it seemed, Matthew sat on his own, sipping at a hot cup of tea. Where he had gotten the beverage at this early hour, she had no idea. She gravitated towards the boy, as if keeping close to him would ensure that they remained friends. She didn't really know how to do this. Back in primary school, she had never been good at making friends, preferring to bond with the characters within the pages of her many books. Her parents had been so worried for her, she had known that, despite how hard they tried to hide such sentiments. Then Hogwarts had fallen into her life and, with it, the opportunity to make a fresh start and do something different when it came to how she acted. But there had been so many new books to read that it had been easy to stumble back into the old routine, closing herself off to the rest of the world because the reality inside her head was much safer and unlikely to change. It was, therefore, a good thing that the boy sitting in the chair by the fire with the cup of tea had come to her rescue on the platform, along with the scrawny boy who was much more down to Earth than the books had reckoned. Maybe they weren't infallible after all.

"I was surprised to find yesterday wasn't all a dream when I woke up," she said in greeting, sitting down on the sofa. Matthew had obviously not noticed her silent approach as he jumped at the sound of her voice, almost spilling his drink. She smiled at that. It made him seem more normal when everything he'd done so far had made him more of an enigma, a mystery for her to solve. "I expected to be back in my bed at home, facing the prospect of a normal high school."

"Thankfully for everyone here, that isn't the case and we have a bright witch to keep us company," he said with a wink and Hermione was sure her face had never been so crimson. "I'm surprised you sound so...dismissive of the other side of life. Would high school have been so bad? I thought you might have enjoyed learning new things." She had certainly shown that side of her character since he'd met her.

She looked offended at the mere notion of not wanting to advance her knowledge. "Of course I would have loved the different lessons. It was more the other students I was worried about."

"You have to put up with students here too."

"Kids who are like me. Magical. You can probably guess that I wasn't very popular at school. When the letter and Professor McGonagall arrived, I realised that that must have been the explanation. That was why no one liked me. Because I was so different."

"You were bullied." He said it as a statement, not a question.

Hermione tentatively nodded her head. "It was hard at times. Most of the time. That's why I'm so excited for lessons to begin. Not just for learning new things, which I can't wait for. But it's also a chance for me to show everyone that I'm like them and a part of their world now. It's silly, I know."

"I don't think it is. Everyone's primary function is to fit in. If you show people this side of you, the one that isn't just a machine sprouting facts, then they'll accept you with open arms. If not, I'll make sure to have words with them, don't you worry." He raised his cup up. "You're my friend now. As far as I'm aware, friends look out for one another."

"We're friends?" Hermione asked in quiet disbelief.

"Are we not?" Matthew looked alarmed now. "Oh god, I've overstepped the mark, haven't I? I'm new to this. I thought we'd gotten along quite well, me, you, and Harry...but it's only been one day! What am I thinking? Oh, I should have just kept drinking my tea. Then this wouldn't have happened."

"I'd like to be your friend," she said in such a soft voice that Matthew wasn't even certain he had heard it correctly. He was starting to think that he had made it up to ease his discomfort when she spoke again. "I don't think I've ever got to call someone my friend before so...yes, I'd like that."

"Really?" He was momentarily stunned. "Good. Very good."

The bushy haired girl couldn't help herself. She started to giggle, something she had hardly ever done in her years before coming to Hogwarts. Matthew watched her for a moment and she feared that he must have thought she'd lost her mind but then he let out a soft chuckle too, shaking his head slightly in amusement. If anyone else had been in the common room at that time, they would have thought that the two first years had cracked on only their second day in the castle. Maybe they had. Maybe they had lost the plot, being in this barmy world. Nothing made sense. To them, having friends didn't make sense. But, if it felt like this, then maybe it was worth changing for.

"We're not very good at this, are we?" Hermione was only able to get the question out once the laughter had subsided.

"No, I guess we're not. But we'll learn and that's all that matters really."

She nodded her head. If Hermione Granger was good at anything, then it was learning new things. "I think my parents are secretly happy that I'm here. I mean, they're obviously sad that they won't get to see me as much but...when that letter came, I remember them smiling . I can see now how scared they must have been for me because I never fit in. I bet they thought this was a chance for me to do a bit better."

"And, one day down, you're already doing that. Well ahead of schedule. You've got me. And Harry considers you a friend too. I'm sure he'd tell you that himself if he'd managed to get out of bed yet."

She beamed proudly at his praise. "Why were you up so early then? I've never met someone my own age who likes a morning start as much as me."

"Boys snore," Matthew grumbled. "I was ready to push their beds out of the window if it continued but I thought the best thing to do was just to leave."

"Some of the girls were snoring too. I've never heard such unladylike noises in my life! But I was always planning to get up with the Sun. I'm too excited for classes to start. And I find that the morning is the best time of the day. With so many people still asleep, it feels as if you own this piece of time, like it's a secret that everyone else hasn't discovered yet."

"Precisely! It's also the best time to collect your thoughts."

Hermione was sure that she'd never known another eleven year old who had thoughts , especially ones that actively needed collecting. She was about to ask what he'd been thinking about when her friend (it sounded so good to say in her head!) noticed that his tea had gone cold. With a frown, he placed the tip of his wand (where had that come from?) to the side of the cup and, a few seconds later, steam was rising from the beverage once more. Her eyes were as wide as the saucer he was using. She watched as he took a sip, sighed contentedly, only to realise that she was looking at him.

"What?"

"How did you do that? That was magic!" Hermione hated not knowing things. She particularly hated it when people could do something she couldn't. "We won't learn a warming charm until later this year!" She hadn't even heard him utter the incantation, which she already knew was focillo . This boy was a mystery to her, a riddle that needed solving.

"That? Oh, it's nothing. It's simply a...charm that comes embedded into the cup. Did you not read that in one of your books?"

She looked offended at the implication that she had missed something, even a detail as small as that. She wanted to ask him more questions but the sound of footsteps on the stairs halted her, some of the older students emerging for breakfast. They were obviously accustomed to the routine by now. Amongst the crowd of Gryffindors, a small figure was being washed along, black hair even messier than when they'd first seen it yesterday.

Harry's eyes, even from the distance between them, looked bloodshot and puffy. The pair immediately forgot their conversation and sat up straighter, waiting for him to amble over. He rubbed a tired hand across his face, trying to spark some life into his body. He was trudging, his legs barely lifted off the floor as he walked. He was basically dragging his book bag along the floor and his uniform was tucked in at odd angles.. As he sat down, he let out a large yawn and allowed the cushions to swallow him up. As he sunk into the sofa, he looked even smaller than he actually was.

"I thought you said that you were coming to the dorm shortly after me!" Matthew exclaimed, looking at him in alarm. "What time did you go to bed? You look like a mess!"

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted. "I was thinking about yesterday and how I didn't know enough about this world...so I started reading. And continued reading into the night. I must have lost track of time."

Hermione appeared delighted with his choice of activity despite the evident consequences. "What books did you read? Oh, we'll be able to compare thoughts and share notes! This is going to be delightful."

"The poor boy looks like the living dead," Matthew interrupted. "The last thing he needs is to be quizzed." He stood up, leaning on his walking stick that Hermione hadn't noticed was there. "No, what he needs is to sort his clothes out and then we'll head down to the Great Hall. Timetables will be being distributed soon and I'd rather have some extra time to prepare myself for that torment."

"But...I just sat down," Harry whined petulantly. "And this seat is very comfy." He was beginning to curl up like a contented cat.

"There's caffeine in the Great Hall to wake you up. And food." That quickly got him moving.

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry's tiredness had soon subsided once he'd filled his stomach with eggs and bacon, much to the delight of his two friends (he had quickly assured Hermione that he classed her as such after she'd relayed their morning conversation). What had assisted his return to the land of the living was also the excitement brewing away in his stomach. His late night reading had cemented one fact; Harry wanted to learn as much as he could at Hogwarts. In part, that was down to the way his two comrades had presented themselves, preferring the safety of logic more than emotional outbursts. He could tell that they weren't the typical students. After all, he had heard plenty of his Gryffindor housemates already complaining about doing work, even before lessons had started. Harry had never been the studious type growing up. That perhaps was down to the way he had been brought up, where the typical lesson had been to muscle your way past people rather than using your brain. But, seeing how much Matthew and Hermione (in particular) enjoyed knowing about things had changed something in Harry's brain. He wanted to make the most of this opportunity. He wanted the two people he felt closest to to accept him and, if that meant a little extra work, then that was a price worth paying. He didn't know much about his parents but there was also a part of Harry that wanted to make them proud, even if there was no way of them ever knowing about his accomplishments.

Building on from this apparent epiphany, Harry found himself in lessons over the course of the week paying rapt attention. History of Magic with Professor Binns was probably the toughest test of his newly formed mental strength. Only the three of them were able to stay awake for the full duration of his lecture and, even then, he caught Matthew twirling a quill around absentmindedly as the ghost rambled on about the first documentations written concerning magic and its origins. It turned out that there wasn't a lot of literature on the subject, leaving the lesson fairly lacking in substantial detail, which probably explained Matthew's bored nature. The most exciting revelation actually came after the class had ended, when Harry had overheard Ron Weasley explaining to some other first years that the old professor had gone to sleep one night, died sometime over the intervening hours without realising, and then had commenced lessons as normal the following morning. Apparently, the staff at Hogwarts didn't have the heart to force him out, despite the lack of interest he generated. Harry couldn't believe that everyone else was so unphased by the existence of ghosts although he guessed that living in the wizarding world made one more accustomed to such strange phenomena. He doubted he would ever grow bored.

The diminutive Professor Flitwick had proved to be much more entertaining, though that probably had something to do with the prospect of actually learning a form of magic. But then it had transpired that no one would be waving a wand until they had all memorised the proper incantation and wrist movement to levitate an object. They'd been told that it would be at least a few weeks before they were entrusted to manipulate anything, much to the grumbled annoyance of many of the subjects. Hermione had attempted to improve Harry's mood by explaining that precautions had to be taken to ensure the safety of everyone in the classroom. The last thing he had on his mind was health and safety . He was a kid! A kid with magic! And he wanted to use it straight away, no matter the regulations. Something was niggling away at him, as if he needed to perform any kind of magic to prove to himself that he actually belonged at the school.

He was no closer to getting his wish in the majority of his other classes. Three slots in the week were taken up by Herbology, taught by a short, old witch by the name of Professor Sprout. Harry hadn't envisaged getting covered in soil as a part of his magical education but it was nice to see Neville Longbottom look more confident in one of their classes at least. Astronomy was another class where his wand could stay tucked away, studying the stars and the movement of planets under the cover of darkness. It had been quite nice, occasionally looking through a telescope, to be wrapped up in a blanket with his two friends. Matthew had produced it, claiming he'd found it in one of the cupboards, although no one else had seemed to find one too.

When Professor McGonagall, after transforming her desk into a pig, had instructed them to get their wands out, Harry had been in his element. This was his chance, the moment he had been waiting for. That was until he discovered that the art of transfiguration was the most complex, difficult, and frustrating subject that he would have to learn. The wand movements consisted of multiple stages, the latin instructions were almost impossible to say, let alone remember, and to accomplish anything required the utmost undivided concentration. Everyone also had to contend with the teacher, who proved to be incredibly strict and demanding of the highest quality. Harry was slightly disheartened when he didn't manage to transform his matchstick into a needle. Hermione had succeeded in making hers turn silver, whereas Matthew had also given his a definite pointed end. They were the only two to produce anything, earning them a rare smile from their Head of House.

The promise of the weekend, which would end up being taken up mostly by homework, was blocked by the imposing prospect of potions with the Slytherins. It was the one spot on his timetable that Harry hadn't been looking forward to, mainly because of the way Snape had acted towards him at the Welcoming Feast. Matthew had told him that there was nothing to worry about, that it was likely all in his head. He had said something about an overactive imagination. Hermione had tried to assure him that no professional teacher would hold a grudge against a student, especially for no reason. It was an example of her undying faith in authority figures.

Any hope of them being proven right seemed to go out the window (if the dungeons had any) when the professor stormed into the room, slamming the door closed behind him. With a swish of his cloak, he was at the front of the classroom, barely taking notice of any of them. When his eyes did settle on the class, a shiver went down Harry's spine. There was something so haunting by how dark and emotionless his eyes were.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," Snape started. His voice echoed around the cold room. If McGonagall commanded her classroom through her acknowledged skill in her craft, it seemed Snape was going to slap them in the face with his expertise. "As there is little foolish wand waving in this class, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses." He paused. There was no sign that he was enjoying how closely the students were watching him but something told Harry that he got a slight kick out of it. The entire speech seemed practised and rehearsed. Harry could barely concentrate with the image of the professor saying his lines into a mirror in his head. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death...if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

The trio were faintly aware of the sound of sniggering from one of the corners of the classroom, Harry looking around to see that the source was Draco and his pair of goons. Sadly, Snape had picked up on the movement, noticing that one of his pupils didn't have the desired amount of attention placed solely on him.

"Potter," he barked, making the boy in question jump and slowly face the front once more. "Ah yes, our little...celebrity. It seems that stardom does not teach one the basic courtesy of listening properly when someone else is talking." He was almost challenging Harry to respond, who could feel his blood boiling at the injustice of being singled out. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The class was silent. Everyone appeared flummoxed by the question, besides Hermione and Matthew. The former had her hand straight up in the air, the latter seemingly not bothering to do the same. Something clicked in Harry's brain though. One of the week nights had been spent reading up on his potions textbook, believing that everyone else would do the same since his friends had mentioned it. The two ingredients definitely rang a bell but it took a few seconds for Harry to remember why that was. The silence only grew louder as time ticked by. Snape seemed to be about to say something else when it finally clicked.

"Sir, that would be the Draught of Living Death. A...um...sleeping potion." The way Snape didn't react made Harry start fretting that he'd got it wrong but the fact that Hermione's hand lowered was a clear indication of his success.

"Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat." He answered quicker this time, more confident in his knowledge. For a second, there was a flicker of annoyance on Snape's face, the first sign of real emotion he'd shown so far.

He bit out the next question. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry paused. He searched his brain for the answer, trying to remember the page it would have appeared on. He was at a loss. Hermione once again had her hand up, barely remaining in her seat. But all he could focus on was the growing smirk on the greasy-haired man's face. "I...don't know that one, sir."

"A pity. It seems that fame isn't everything. If you had bothered to read the entirety of your potions textbook, you would know that they are the same plant, also known as aconite."

"But no one else knew the answers besides Hermione! She had her hand up the entire time!" He had blurted out the response before properly considering the ramifications. He heard Matthew let out a long groan at his mistake.

"That'll be ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek," Snape triumphantly declared, decidedly happy to get the last laugh in their sparring contest. "You'd better learn that you can't act as if you're not just another student, Potter. The sooner you realise that you are nothing special, the sooner you might grow into your mediocrity."

The roars of laughter from the Slytherins were deafening and it stung even more was that Snape made no move to chastise his own students. Harry could feel his cheeks burning but tried to concentrate as the lesson continued. He did his best to stay quiet for the proceeding two hours, not even saying a word when he was told off for not helping Neville (who wasn't even his partner) when his potion exploded in his face. Harry couldn't have gotten out of there quicker.

xxxxxxxxxx

"He hates me," Harry complained as he sat in Hagrid's hut, nibbling on a rock cake that resembled a rock more than a cake. The half giant had invited him and his friends over the following afternoon, knowing that they were finished for the weekend. The hut itself was one large circular room, the ceiling decorated by hams and pheasants hanging haphazardly. A crossbow was placed in a pot by one of the small windows, accompanied by the umbrella that Harry knew all too well. The surprise had been Fang, a black boarhound that had come bounding over to them when they'd knocked on the door. He was currently content as Hermione scratched behind one of his ears. Matthew was momentarily unable to speak as he fought against the treacle Hagrid had made that he'd regretfully taken a bite out of. "Snape actually hates me!"

"Of course he doesn't, Harry," Hermione repeated herself. She had been trying to tell him this since the lesson had ended. "No teacher would be so biased. Why would Dumbledore keep him here if that were the case?"

"You saw how he looked at me. Even from his eyes, everyone could tell he despised me. Why is he like that, Hagrid?"

"Snape doesn't like any of his students. He has a reputation for that. You probably were just unlucky enough to catch his ire today. I'm sure some other student will have that misfortune next time. Don't think too much about it."

Harry was sure that Hagrid refused to meet his eyes though as he spoke, instead turning his back to them once the kettle started whistling. He chose to put that to the back of his mind as he listened halfheartedly to Hermione explaining what dentists were to the groundskeeper and why her parents were so fascinated with teeth. He overheard Matthew grumble that he would be needing their services soon if he ate anymore but he said it quietly enough that Hagrid didn't notice. For some strange reason, he never chose to ask Matthew any questions about his upbringing though Harry presumed that was more to do with his curiosity about the wonders of the Muggle world.

Again, Harry was too distracted to think about it as closely as he would have liked as his eyes wandered over to a newspaper that had been placed precariously on the edge of the table. The image on the front depicted several goblins shaking their head and fists while others ran about in the background. With the others deep in conversation about mouthwash, he started to read the article, his eyes going wide as he learnt about a break in at the wizarding bank, Gringotts.

"I thought you said that Gringotts was the safest place in the world," Harry spoke up. "No one could get in and out uninvited, you said."

Hagrid frowned at him, with it taking a few seconds for him to realise what he was talking about. "They must have had a bad day, that's all. And the intruders didn't come away with anything so no harm done to their reputation."

"But this happened on the same day we visited! That can't just be a coincidence. Not with what you had to do."

Hagrid grunted quickly, interrupting him before he could reveal anything else in front of the two other people. "You don't need to worry about that. Nothing happened. Now...who wants another rock cake?" He'd definitely not met Harry's eyes this time.

He didn't know what was more difficult to swallow - Hagrid's baked goods or his obvious lies.