Chapter 2 – Granger
The next morning, Harry woke early out of habit. He shook off his drowsiness in the shower and dressed quickly, changing into his powder blue Beauxbatons uniform with practised ease. He took one look at his hair in the mirror and gave up trying to fix it. He left the room, careful not to wake his roommate. The older boy was barely cordial as it was, and Harry had no intention of antagonising him further. His disrupted circadian rhythm turned out to be a blessing when Madam Maxime found him in the common area.
"Monsieur Potter," she said, the French words rolling off her tongue in rapid bursts. "I was unsure whether you would be awake in time for breakfast, so I took the liberty of retrieving your schedule from the deputy headmistress."
Harry blinked. "My schedule?"
She nodded. "Yes, your class schedule," she raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think you could go through the entire year without going to class, did you? This is not a vacation."
Harry nodded sheepishly. "You're right, of course."
Maxime nodded and handed him a piece of parchment. "I believe Professor McGonagall assigned you to the fourth-year Gryffindor schedule. She put you in Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures."
He grinned. "Perfect. Thank you, Madame. Is that all?"
She nodded sharply. "That is all. Have a good first day, Monsieur Potter. Show the English why we are the superior institution."
He grinned mischievously before running off. He found Ron in the Great Hall, loading a plate with half a rasher of bacon while chewing on a spoonful of eggs.
"Guess what?" He asked, nigh vibrating with energy.
"Mornin'," Ron said, yawning halfway through his sentence. Harry's brow furrowed in disgust as his hungry mouth revealed half-chewed eggs.
"Guess what?" Harry repeated, undeterred.
"Wha'?" Ron asked. Harry slid his schedule over.
"I'm going to class with you!"
Ron swallowed his eggs and looked over the parchment.
"Blimey, that's identical to my schedule except Ancient Runes," Ron winced. "I feel bad for you, mate. Runes is supposed to be hell."
"A similar course is offered at Beauxbatons," Harry shrugged. "I took it last year. I will be fine, hopefully."
"Well, I think Katie is taking it, though she's a year above you. You could ask her for help," Ron suggested.
Harry grinned. "I think I will do just that."
He pulled a plate toward himself and piled it high with pancakes. He had just poured syrup on top when he saw Ron freeze opposite him. Recognising the way his eyes glazed over, Harry sighed. He turned around and saw Fleur standing behind him.
"Fleuuuur," he whined. "Arrêtez."
"I am reigning it in as much as I can," she replied hotly. "It is not my fault you choose the company of such weak-willed boys."
Harry sighed. "Be nice, please. Ron is an all-right bloke. Also, he's right there." He gestured to his friend, who looked on the very of swallowing his own tongue. Harry grimaced and Fleur shot the ginger a disdainful look.
"Even if he spoke our tongue, I don't think he is in any capacity to understand me right now," Fleur sneered and stormed off, and Harry stood up to follow.
"See you in class," he said to the other boy, who just nodded dumbly.
"Fleur, don't be like this," Harry pleaded. "Let's eat. Look, there's Angelina, Alicia, and Katie. Let's join them - your allure won't affect them too badly."
With a little more cajoling, he managed to drag Fleur to where the chasers were seated. Angelina and Katie smiled in greeting, and Alicia followed suit, after shaking her head vigorously.
He sat down, pulling Fleur to the seat next to him. He appropriated a plate and went through the motions of prepping his pancakes again. He gladly gorged himself on the sweet breakfast dish, ignoring everyone around him.
"So, Fleur," Alicia said, clearing her throat unsubtly as the prickly French girl turned to her. "How did you meet Harry?"
A smirk appeared on Fleur's face, and Harry looked up sharply.
"Fleur, no-" he began before Angelina cut him off.
"Nope," she shushed him. "There's a story here. Now I have to know."
"Eet was quatre ans - four years ago. September. 'Arry just started at Beauxbatons," she grinned at him like a bird stalking her prey. "On 'is first day, 'e was lost. I found 'im trying to convince a nymph to show 'im to ze Charms classroom. But ze nymphs are very – 'ow do you say – mischievous. She tricked him into going into ze ladies' restroom."
Angelina and Alicia guffawed, and Katie tried in vain to hide her snickers.
"I was washing my 'ands. Of course, I was furious," she said, and the other girls nodded. "Leetle 'Arry was so scared. 'E thought I would 'ex 'im. He kept blabbering about ze green lady lying to 'im. I felt so bad, so I escorted 'im to class."
"And the rest is history," Harry said primly, barely getting a word out through the chasers' raucous laughter, desperate to change the topic. "Do any of you know where the Transfiguration classroom is?"
"Yeah, of course," Angelina said. "Why?"
"I have it first thing today and have no idea where it is," Harry explained. "I was going to tag along with Ron, but he left already."
"It's on the way to Charms," Alicia said. "Come on, I'll show you."
Harry smiled gratefully and said goodbye to Fleur before following the three Gryffindors. Katie split off from the pack in the Entrance Hall, heading onto the grounds for Care of Magical Creatures. She waved to the girls and Harry, a gesture he returned with gusto and a wink.
Two flights of stairs and a near-death experience with a suit of armour later, Harry found himself outside the Transfiguration classroom.
He arrived just in time to see the fourth years sit, and he groaned inwardly when he saw Ron's neighbouring seat filled by a tall boy with dark skin.
He stepped into the classroom, suddenly conscious of his pale blue uniform, compared to the black robes donned by the Hogwarts students. He ignored the instinct to hunch in on himself and marched into the classroom, head held high.
He eyed two empty seats. One near the middle of the class and the other near the front. He made for the middle seat when he noticed its other occupant eyeing the door, clearly waiting for someone. Suppressing the urge to sigh, Harry walked to the seat at the front.
He sat down, and a hush fell over the room. He frowned at the odd looks he received.
He turned to his neighbour to introduce himself. "Bonjour, I'm Harry. Nice to meet you."
The girl mumbled a response, and he frowned. "Sorry, what was that?"
"Pleasure," she said, her tone brittle. Harry's mouth curved downward. His attention was pulled back to the front when the professor entered the room. An older woman with greying hair pulled back into a tight bun under a large, green, wizard's hat. Her expression was severe, mouth drawn taut into a straight line as she surveyed her class during roll call.
Harry was shaking in his excitement at being taught by Minnie 'Never call her that if you know what's good for you' McGonagall. His classmates were openly staring, and he realised she'd called his name. He raised a hand, and she turned to him. Her gaze rested on him for an extra fraction of a second, and her eyes narrowed as they absorbed his messy hair, thin face, and round glasses.
Harry's anticipation dulled a little. He hoped she didn't have any preconceptions about who he was. He'd dealt with enough biased teachers at Beauxbatons. They generally disliked his English heritage. His godfather had always described McGonagall as strict but fair. He hoped that remained true.
He needn't have worried. Other than that initial interaction, McGonagall had been largely indifferent. She treated him like every other student, and he was perfectly fine with that. What was interesting was the bushy-haired girl sitting next to him.
The girl he had initially pegged as a recluse came alive in class. For every question that McGonagall asked, her hand would be the first in the air. After she earned Gryffindor some points for a particularly well-phrased answer, Harry complimented her.
"Mon Dieu, you're a genius!"
The look she gave him could've frozen a dragon's lungs.
After that, he turned his gaze firmly toward McGonagall for the rest of the lesson. At the bell, Harry looked at his peers, hoping the majority of the crowd would be heading to the same destination as he: Charms. Thankfully, Ron had found him after Transfiguration and introduced him to his friends, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan.
Charms wasn't quite as exciting as Transfiguration. Harry had been amused by Professor Flitwick's antics. The tiny professor fell off his stack of books when he called his name. Other than that, however, the lesson was nothing spectacular. Harry spent most of the class passing notes to Ron, Seamus, and Dean. The three were hilarious, and Harry knew that if his teachers saw even one of the notes, they'd probably get detention till they were forty.
The quartet of boys sat together at lunch. Harry had sought out Fleur, but she was nowhere to be seen.
"So, Harry," said Seamus. "Ron told me you were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. How'd that happen? You don't even go here."
Harry shrugged. "I went for a fly. Angelina needed a player, and Ron agreed to change positions. Besides, I do not think I am on the actual Gryffindor team – just the temporary one for the year, non?"
"Well, obviously," Ron said with a snort. "Though I would appreciate it if you flew in from France thrice a year for matches."
Harry laughed. "I will speak to my godfather about international portkeys, then."
"I must say, I'm a little jealous, mate," Seamus nudged Harry.
"Do you fly?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Nah," Seamus shook his head, and Ron and Dean looked at their friend worriedly. "I'm just a little envious because you and dear old Ronald get to work out with the hottest girls in Gryffindor."
Harry's eyebrows raised to his hairline and Ron sighed tiredly.
"Sorry about him," said his teammate. "Seamus has a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease."
"Come off it, Potter, don't act like you haven't thought about it," Seamus grinned.
Harry swallowed the disgust that rose in his throat. He plastered an easy grin on his face; the likes of which he'd seen often on his godfather. He was saved from answering by one of the girls in question.
"Oi, Potter, Weasley the third!" Angelina shouted from down the table. The two fourth years in question turned to their captain.
"How many times do I tell you not to call me that?" Ron groused. Angelina rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah," she grinned. "Practice. Tonight."
"Yes, ma'am!" Harry grinned, snapping off a salute. When Angelina returned the salute, whispers broke out across the hall. The story of the Gryffindor Quidditch captain calling the Boy-Who-Lived to practice spread like wildfire, with rumours suggesting that Angelina had ceded her captaincy to the celebrity.
Harry scoffed at the idea at practice that evening, as a laughing Katie recounted the stories she'd heard from her friend Leanne.
"How does one even come up with something this preposterous?" he asked, slapping away the twins as they pretended to place a crown atop his head.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Alicia said sagely. "Not a Gryffindor has gone by without being on the receiving end of one of Leanne's rumours."
"So, I'm an honorary Gryffindor at this point, no?" Harry asked with a hopeful grin. "I've always wanted to see the common room where my Maman and Papa lived."
The assembled Gryffindors looked at each other warily.
"It's not against the rules," Alicia pointed out. Ron nodded.
"He's Harry Bloody Potter. No one's going to ask questions."
Harry frowned at that. They looked to Angelina, who shrugged.
"He's the Gryffindor seeker – it only seems fair."
Harry felt his cheeks would tear from smiling so much.
The Gryffindor common room was everything Harry had imagined from the stories he'd heard growing up. A roaring fireplace enveloped the room in a warm, welcoming glow. Gold chandeliers lit every corner that the fireplace didn't reach. Upholstered armchairs and plush couches were scattered around the room, with the odd bookshelf and end table pushed up against the wall.
The common room was packed as students lounged after dinner. A few students gave Harry's robes an odd glance or stared at his scar but refrained from commenting when Angelina shot them a warning glance.
Harry, for his part, was completely oblivious to anything and anyone. He ran his fingers over the mantle, closing his eyes as the heat of the fireplace embraced him. He imagined his father and his friends plotting their next big prank in front of this very fire. He glanced up at the dorms, imagining his teenage mother coming down the stairs with her friends.
"C'est magnifique," Harry breathed with wide eyes as he dropped into a free seat near the Quidditch team. His eyes were restless as he absorbed every nook and cranny of the common room. "Wow…"
His new English friends looked at each other with amusement.
"This might be the first nice thing I've heard you French folk say about us," Fred commented waspishly. Harry grinned.
"We can be a little judgemental," he admitted. "I'm mostly English if that helps?"
"Oh certainly," George said solemnly. "The Frenchies might have their clutches on you now, but we all know you're one of us at heart. We'll get you back eventually!"
Angelina rolled her eyes. "Ignore those two – nothing that comes out of their mouth is trustworthy."
"You wound me, o Captain," George feigned a sob. Alicia leaned over to Harry.
"Angie and George have been doing this will-they-won't-they dance since last year. I suppose this is what they consider flirting. Aren't they just disgusting?" she whispered with a grimace.
He continued to look around the common room. A pile of parchment and a couple of quills were left forgotten on one of the tables. A house of cards teetered precariously in a corner.
"How long has the card-house been standing?" Harry asked, impressed. Ron turned to look.
"Since September," Ron said. "Whoever knocks it over has to go to the Yule Ball with Granger, so no one even goes near it."
"What is the Yule Ball? And who is Granger?"
"Bigsby was telling everyone that the Triwizard Tournament usually comes with a dance – during Christmastime," Ron said, scrunching up his nose. "And Granger is the resident bookworm. She doesn't have any friends; doesn't talk much to anyone, really."
Ron wouldn't meet his eye. "She had something of an accident in first year – nearly died. Never been the same since."
"And why is the punishment going to the ball with her?" Harry asked coolly.
"Coz people don't really like her, I reckon," Ron shrugged. "She only ever talks to answer a question or correct someone. Bloody teacher's pet."
With narrowed eyes, Harry let the subject drop.
The newly completed Gryffindor Quidditch team sat around the common room, exchanging stories and getting to know their newest member. Angelina seemed to be the de facto leader, though they kept referring to a 'Wood' who was their taskmaster of a captain who'd graduated last year. Alicia was Angelina's best friend. They had been inseparable since their first year. Their bond had seemingly only strengthened when Katie joined their trio the following year. Harry found that Alicia was very nice, though she had a bit of a sarcastic streak to her.
The third chaser, Katie, was something of a mystery to him. She seemed nice enough and was very fun to tease. She was a bit reserved, though Alicia assured him that she was like that around strangers. Supposedly, when among friends, she turned into quite the chatterbox.
Fred and George were incorrigible prankster extraordinaires who were infamous around Hogwarts. Harry looked forward to comparing notes with them, for he too had something of a mischievous streak. He blamed his godfather's influence. Their little brother Ron seemed to be dependable and unintentionally hilarious and was the only person on the team who was Harry's age.
Looking around the common room, Harry would've been pleased to notice that not many people were staring at his robes – if they weren't instead staring at his scar.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on the story that Alicia and Katie were telling. Though he was the victim of a few nasty rumours and snide remarks at Beauxbatons, having the spotlight shone so directly in his face was still jarring, to say the least. Still, if there was anything his godfather had taught him, it was how to deal with attention.
"Hey, Lavender, Parvati," Ron greeted as two girls in red and gold trim approached. One had curly blonde hair and pale skin, while the other was of Indian descent, with black hair and dark eyes.
"Hi, Ron," the blonde giggled, her eyes on Harry. "Who's your friend here?"
Her tone betrayed that she knew exactly who he was.
"Harry Potter." Harry put on his most charming smile as he stood and brushed his lips against the back of her hand. "And you are?"
"Lavender Brown," she said with pink cheeks. He withheld a grin as she gestured to her friend. "This is Parvati Patil."
"Enchanté," Harry smiled at the Indian girl, repeating the gesture.
"So, it's true?" Parvati scrutinised him. "Harry Potter is at Hogwarts – and he's French."
"Oui, I do believe I am at Hogwarts. Unless I came to the wrong address," he gave her a winning smile. "I was told the most beautiful girls in the world are at Hogwarts, so I must be in the right place, non?"
Parvati blushed. "Laying it on thick, aren't we?"
"Désolé, I am not familiar with the expression. I am just being honest," Harry smiled. "If you'll excuse me, madmoiselles, I believe my friends here deserve my attention for now. We will speak again, I am sure."
Harry withheld a wince as Lavender blew him a kiss before the two left the common room. He turned back to his new teammates, shaking his head at Angelina and Alicia's amusement. Ron was looking at him with a mix of awe and envy. Katie's lips curved downwards.
"The lady-killer of Hogwarts!" Fred and George fell to the ground, grovelling at his feet. "Harry Potter has returned – fear for your girlfriends, lads!"
Harry took a step backwards, a mix of mortification and laughter on his face. Alicia kicked Fred in the arse, sending him tumbling over. Harry took another step back to avoid the flailing redhead, stumbling as he knocked into someone behind him.
"I am so sorry! I was not looking where I was going," He exclaimed as he turned around. "Oh, it's you! From Transfiguration!"
The girl with bushy brown hair was crouched, picking up the books that he'd knocked to the ground. He joined her in gathering them. She accepted them from him, eyes never leaving the floor. She muttered an incoherent thank you and nearly sprinted out of the common room.
Harry turned back to his friends with a frown. "Who was that?"
"That's Granger," Ron said grimly.
"She does not seem like a bad person," Harry said.
"She isn't. Just a little hard to get along with," Ron said diplomatically, and Harry didn't miss the three frowning Chasers behind him.
"I see," Harry nodded. "Well, I must be going. Fleur will wonder where I am. Thank you for inviting me to your common room."
A round of goodbyes rang from the group as Harry made to leave.
"Oh, and Potter," Angelina called out as Harry opened the portrait hole. He looked back with a raised eyebrow. "Practice Thursday night at seven."
Harry grinned and saluted before closing the door behind him.
He found his way down to the Beauxbatons carriage, getting only slightly lost. The carriage was the size of a townhome on the outside, though it was enlarged to be two or three times the size on the inside. The interior was painted a soft cream, with baby blue accents. Decorative marble pillars with gold trim lined the walls. On top of polished hardwood flooring, extravagant mahogany furniture was neatly placed around the common area.
Fleur sat on a loveseat, a navy blue blanket over her lap. She sat alone, haughtily staring down any that tried to approach her. Not that many did; they'd had seven years to learn that lesson. When she saw Harry, her eyes softened just a little.
"Where were you?" She asked in French.
"With my friends," he responded in kind, and she raised an eyebrow. "Some Gryffindors - including the girls we had breakfast with this morning."
"Be careful," she warned. "You know how much the British idolise the Boy-Who-Lived. You don't want to be taken advantage of."
Harry sat down next to her and squeezed her hand. "I know, Fleur, but I think these people are genuine."
She frowned. Harry smiled placatingly, and she shook her head. "I'll be careful," he insisted.
"Alright. So, what's this I hear about you joining a team?" she asked, relaxing into her blanket. He grinned before appropriating half her blanket for himself.
"So, I wanted to go for a fly..."
A/N: And as I procrastinate writing Dynasty (writer's block is a real bitch, yo) you all get another chapter of IMC. This story is shaping up to be something really special, and I'm super excited to share it with y'all. I'm super excited for chapter 3. IMO it's some of my best writing since chapter 7/8 of Dynasty, so I'm excited for you to read it (in like, 2 weeks or whenever I finish it).