Monday, 4th September
The next morning, Harry woke up to the soft ringing of the alarm clock beside his bed. He rubbed his eyes, a groggy yawn escaping his mouth. The sun had barely risen, and the room was still dark, save for the soft glow of the lanterns casting long shadows on the stone walls.
His first official day at Hogwarts was finally here.
Groaning quietly, Harry pushed the covers off, pulled the curtains back, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. It was still early, but the others were also beginning to stir. Blaise was already sitting up, lazily stretching, while Nott was sitting cross-legged on his own bed, staring into space with a vacant expression on his face.
"Morning" Harry muttered, still half asleep.
"Good morning, Potter" Blaise replied, horrifyingly awake, "Ready to brave the first day of classes? I don't know about you, but I'm already looking forward to lunch".
"Lunch? Don't you want breakfast first?" Harry asked, stifling another yawn.
"Breakfast is for the weak" he dismissed, "And besides, you've got to get to the Great Hall before Crabbe and Goyle decide to hijack the food supply. You'd think their parents starved them!"
He froze, briefly, unbidden memories rushing to the forefront of his mind before he tiredly swatted them away and forced a smile. Glancing across the room, he found both boys slowly getting dressed, whereas the curtains around Malfoy's bed were still firmly yanked shut.
"He's not much of a morning person" Blaise stage-whispered, "He'll need at least an hour in the shower and an entire litre of coffee before he becomes even remotely human".
There came a loud disgruntled groan from behind the curtains. Harry snorted, feeling a little more human himself now that he was up and about. Reaching into his trunk, he pulled out his school uniform.
"The plus side is that if you ever need to ask Malfoy something and actually get a straight answer for once, then now's the best time to do so" Blaise finished, "So. You know. Do with that knowledge, as you will".
And with that, he climbed out of bed and made his way toward the bathroom, leaving Harry to finish getting ready. As he changed into his school robes, he couldn't help but feel a bit lighter. It wasn't that he was worried about fitting in with the Slytherins - he was never one to go with the crowd anyway - but he had been worried about how their preconceived notions of his Boy Who Lived persona would affect the way they acted around him.
But so far, it seemed that, while some definitely had a little more... attitude, they were just like any other group of teenagers he'd ever dealt with. In fact, they were actually better than any other students he'd met before considering that none of them had tried beating him up yet. Blaise even seemed to like him, and while Nott was still an unknown, he wasn't half as antagonistic as Parkinson had been, so maybe there was a chance Harry could become friends with him too.
It wasn't going to be easy, he knew that much for certain. But it might be worth it. And, at the very least, it promised to be interesting.
As they made their way down the stone corridors, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that every step echoed far too loudly. He'd offered to wait for the others, more so to delay the inevitable than out of any real desire to do so, but Blaise had said there was no point.
"Malfoy will appear whenever he's good and ready, Crabbe and Goyle will amble in soon enough, Tracey and Milli are likely already in the Great Hall, Theo usually waits for Daphne, and Parkinson will probably be along shortly too".
Harry simply nodded, wondering if he'd even been able to eat anything given how uneasy his stomach was at the moment. He barely resisted the urge to clutch at the locket hidden beneath his shirt.
As they turned the corner toward the main staircase, the doors to the Great Hall loomed up ahead. The chatter from within was faint at first, but as they approached, it grew louder, the clatter of cutlery on plates and the murmur of students settling in for the morning.
Despite the room's vast size, it felt almost oppressive to Harry. He was painfully aware of the sheer weight of everyone's gaze as they headed towards the Slytherin table. He could physically feel them - the eyes of countless students turning to stare and point and gawk at him, their gazes ranging from curious to cautious, even hostile. The older year Gryffindors in particular, seemed undeservingly furious with him.
"Ignore them" Blaise muttered under his breath, as though sensing Harry's discomfort, "They're just staring 'cause the Boy Who Lived being in Slytherin is blowing their minds. It's just a shock factor thing".
Harry shot him a look, though his lips quirked slightly. "Does that make it better?"
"Well, no, but it'll be less awkward in about a week when the novelty wears off and they start hating you for being in Slytherin instead".
He couldn't help but laugh at that. It provided little comfort, of course, but he was used to dealing with other people's anger - he was used to being stared at like he was a freak, too, although it had been a while…
They reached the Slytherin table, where the other students had begun to trickle in one by one. Parkinson was already in the same seat she'd been in yesterday, nibbling on a piece of toast and chatting with Bulstrode, who was making an odd face as she spooned something unidentifiable into her mouth. Davis sat next to her girlfriend, her slight, quiet demeanour making her blend almost completely into the background.
"Good morning, ladies" Blaise greeted with a charming grin, only to be met by eye rolls and disdainful looks in response, "... Or not".
As they sat down, Malfoy finally slinked in, his robes pristine and his hair perfectly styled. He was clearly still waking up, though his expression had already begun to smooth into something more familiar: aloof, smug, and utterly composed.
"Morning" he muttered, giving Harry a brief, assessing, if somewhat uninterested, look before settling into a seat across from him.
"Good morning, Malfoy" Harry replied, keeping his tone casual and perfectly pleasant.
"Good morning, your royal highness" Blaise said, going straight for antagonising instead.
Draco sneered at him. "Bite me".
"No thanks, I might catch something".
The food was, as Blaise had predicted, excellent. The smell of sizzling bacon, warm pastries, and fresh fruit filled the air, making Harry's stomach growl with hunger - evidently, he would be able to eat today. It was nice to focus on something other than his uneasiness, and after a moment, he found himself piling his plate high with a variety of things - sausages, beans, croissants, and a generous portion of blueberries.
He had only just finished filling his plate when Crabbe and Goyle wandered over, their size making them stand out like two hulking shadows. Goyle grabbed a handful of toast, looking like he was about to take the entire basket with him, while Crabbe eyed the eggs, a gleam of determination in his eyes.
Harry quickly added more food to his plate, just in case.
Not long after, Nott and Greengrass appeared, sliding onto the bench below Parkinson, not quite touching each other but also not quite not and Harry distantly wondered if there was something going on there. As the rest of the Slytherins began filtering in, the table slowly filled with conversation. Bulstrode whispered something to Davis, who giggled in response. Malfoy was staring into his coffee as although it held the answers to life itself, though his usual air of superiority was beginning to creep back into his posture.
Harry wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected, but the sheer ordinariness of it all surprised him. Sure, there were whispers, the occasional sneer, and a fair amount of side-eye glances sent his way, but in the end, it was just a group of kids trying to get through breakfast and he found himself letting out a heavy sigh of relief.
"Oh, look!" Davis suddenly said, her voice full of excitement, "Professor Snape's handing out our timetables!"
Harry glanced across the hall to see Snape's unmistakable black robes leaving the head table, his face as unreadable as ever, though his eyes briefly caught Harry's. For a moment, he could've sworn he saw a small, approving nod, but then Snape was already moving on, handing out the rolled-up timetables to the students further down the Slytherin table.
"I wonder if we'll have any free periods this year" Blaise said, draining the last of his black, sugar-filled coffee - the only thing he'd had for breakfast, "I remember Warrington saying something about it…"
Snape had finished handing out parchment to the younger years and was now heading in their direction with all of the authority of someone who expected instant respect. He wasn't looking at anyone specifically, but his gaze still managed to feel like it cut through the students, his presence as imposing as ever - Harry had to admit, it was kind of impressive.
"Bulstrode" Severus said flatly, and she quickly held out a hand to take her timetable.
"Crabbe". The boy did the same, except this time, the professor didn't let go of the parchment and instead pinned him in place with a dark gaze. "Where is your tie?"
The boy looked down at his uniform, seeming to only notice that it was missing then too.
"... In my room, sir?"
"And what is it doing in your room, Mr Crabbe?"
"... I don't understand the question, sir".
Snape released his timetable with a truly awe-inspiring scowl.
"Don't forget it again!" he snapped, "Davis?"
"Here, sir!"
On it went, through Goyle, Greengrass, Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, and then-
"Potter".
He reached out to take the schedule with a nod of thanks, only for Snape to maintain his hold on it. Briefly freezing, Harry quickly glanced down only to find his silver and green tie exactly where it should be. Frowning, he looked back up just in time to catch the subtle twitch of Severus' lips as he bit back a smirk.
"... Sir?"
He gave him a look. "Professor McGonagall is rather upset with you, Mr Potter".
McGonagall? Upset with him? But why? What did he- Oh. The bet.
Harry winced. "How much did she lose?"
"Enough to stay out of Hogsmeade for the foreseeable future".
Although the man's expression was as impassive as ever, there was something very similar to amusement glittering in his dark eyes.
"And just how much did you win?" he asked pointedly, and the corner of Snape's mouth twitched again. "Enough to make regular visits to Hogsmeade for the foreseeable future… Although I'd gladly trade my entire vault for not having to deal with you, brat".
"I wouldn't expect any less, sir" he replied cheekily, pulling his timetable from the professor's grasp.
"At least try to behave" he warned, before turning back to the next piece of paper in his hands, "Zabini".
Blaise took his schedule with a somewhat dazed look on his face, and with one last quick glance around the table, Snape moved onto the sixth years sitting above them.
"How in the bloody hell did you get Severus bloody Snape to like you?!" Zabini hissed, giving him a look of utter betrayal, "You've only been here five bloody minutes!"
"Oh, Merlin no, he doesn't like me" Harry quickly corrected, "He barely tolerates me. In fact, I don't think we've ever had a single conversation where he hasn't wished for my demise at least once".
"Uh, yeah!" Blaise shot back, "That's how you know he likes you! Salazar, Potter, you can't be normal about anything, can you?"
"I blame my muggle upbringing" he said very seriously, and for a moment, there was a tense silence, before Zabini snorted, obviously having realised he was joking… sort of.
"I'd be careful who I say things like that around, Lord Gloucester" Nott commented mildly, "Or they'll start claiming that you're the next Dark Lord".
He wasn't entirely sure who 'they' were, but he could guess.
"Well, I am in Slytherin, and this is step one of total world domination, isn't it? At least, according to Gryffindors".
"And what about your Gryffindors?" Draco asked, grey eyes narrowed, "How do they feel about you being a snake?"
"Don't know, haven't spoken to them yet" he replied breezily, "Although I do know that Neville's okay with it, and Luna doesn't care about Houses anyway. As for the others, you'll just have to wait and see".
"I'd rather not". The blond only barely refrained from sneering, which Harry felt showed a lot of self-restraint. "Does anyone else have a free class after lunch today?"
They all scanned their timetables and Harry was relieved to find that he did, in fact, have a free class today, although it was for his first period rather than after lunch, which was quite a pleasant way to start the week. He had History of Magic second, then a double Potions class, Arithmancy, and finally, double DADA.
Next to him, Blaise winced. "Not me, I'm afraid. I've got both Ancient Runes and Divination today".
Harry gave him a surprised, curious look. "You take Divination?"
"'Course I do. Easy pass, ain't it?" He widened his dark eyes and put on a vacant expression. "I predict that my mother's husband will be dead by the end of the year… Trelawney fucking loves me".
He laughed despite the rather macabre joke, and Blaise grinned at him before leaning closer to see his schedule.
"What classes are you taking? Arithmancy; interesting choice, Care of Magical Creatures; fair enough, and… Muggle Studies?" He frowned and gave him a confused look. "But you were raised by muggles".
"Well, 'raised' is a bit of an exaggeration, I'm afraid, but it's an easy pass, ain't it?" Harry repeated, "Why not take advantage of my disadvantage?"
"Smart" he agreed, nodding "And also rather Slytherin of you. Anyway, that does mean that we've got no electives in common, but we'll still have the core subjects together. Theo and Daphne both do Arithmancy too, Trace and Milli take Muggle Studies, and Theo, Malfoy and his gang do Magical Creatures".
Across from them, Draco rolled his eyes in a truly unregal-like fashion. "They're not my gang, Zabini! As I keep telling you!"
"No? What do you call them then? Your royal followers?"
This was clearly an argument that they'd had before. Quickly glancing around for something to distract them with, Harry was startled when a piece of folded parchment suddenly appeared in front of him with a poof.
Cautiously reaching for it, he held his hand above the paper for a moment, trying to sense if there were any hexes or curses, but from what he could tell, it was all perfectly harmless. Carefully unfolding it, he found unfamiliar handwriting staring back at him.
Potter, I have received your schedule from Professor Snape. If agreeable I suggest we have your extra wand movements class Monday mornings at 9am during your free period. Come to my office after breakfast. Professor McGonagall.
Well, there went his pleasant start to the week.
"Who's that from?" Blaise asked, his argument with Malfoy now forgotten as they both eyed the note with unbridled curiosity.
"Professor McGonagall" he answered, folding the parchment once more and slipping it into his bag, "She just wants to talk to me after breakfast about something".
He recalled what Snape said about her losing a small fortune because of his sorting, and wondered if she was still too mad about it to tell him about all of this in person.
"McGonagall?" Parkinson wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What does the Head of Gryffindor want to talk about with you? Oh, wait, let me guess - poor little Potter doesn't want to be a slimy snake anymore so McGonagall's going to resort him into Gryffindor".
"Actually, she had me down for Ravenclaw" he replied easily, "But I always knew I was going to be in Slytherin and I'm perfectly happy being here, thanks for asking. Also, snakes aren't slimy; they're actually quite dry".
Next to him, Blaise started laughing as Pansy spluttered in indignation. Clearly, she'd expected him to rise to the bait and snap back rashly just as a Gryffindor - or Harry himself a few years ago - would have done.
She glared at Harry, her face a picture of disbelief as she opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Malfoy cut in, his voice dripping with mock sincerity.
"Really, Parkinson" he drawled, leaning back in his seat, "You should be thanking Potter for correcting your biology. I doubt even Professor Binns would've gotten that one wrong".
Nott snorted into his tea, and Harry bit back a grin. He was starting to see the appeal of the Slytherins' banter, even if it often came at his own expense. It was a bit like being back with the Weasley twins - only with far sharper edges.
The rest of breakfast passed without any further trouble, everyone content to focus on their food or their own quiet conversations.
Harry was still getting used to the rhythm of the table, the way everyone seemed to talk over each other in a mix of biting remarks and dry humour - and so far, he found himself liking it more than he'd expected. It was the kind of environment that thrived on sharp wit, even if sometimes it felt like it could slice you open if you weren't careful.
After a while, the plates started clearing, and Harry could hear the buzz of conversation pick up again as students finished their meals. It was almost time for the first class of the year, and Harry found himself still feeling somewhat uneasy, even if his own first official class wouldn't be happening until second period.
"Wanna grab our bags?" Blaise asked, and he nodded and stood up. "Anyone else coming?"
"I will" Nott said quietly, while the girls shook their heads, Malfoy forcibly downed yet another cup of coffee, and Crabbe and Goyle did their best to pile as many pastries as possible onto their plates before the food vanished.
Heading for the door, Harry was glad to leave the noise and attention behind him, if only for a few minutes. He'd have to remember to ask Blaise where McGonagall's office was too, before the boy left for Ancient Runes - it wouldn't do him any good to be late to his first meeting with the woman.
"Hey! Harry! Hey!"
Frowning, he turned. There was a sudden, blinding flash and he had both hands raised and a curse half-formed before he realised that it was just a camera - a muggle camera, being held by a very small, mousy-haired boy not much younger than he was. And, now that Harry was looking at him, the boy in question was slowly starting to turn a very bright red.
"Alright Harry?" he asked somewhat breathlessly, "I'm- I'm Colin Creevey. I'm in Gryffindor. D'you think- Would it be alright if- Can I have a picture?"
"It would seem that you've already taken one, kid" Blaise said, stepping up next to him, "And why do you want a photo of him anyway?"
"So I can prove I've met him!" he replied eagerly, edging forwards with his camera raised, "I- I just took one of you with your, uh, Housemates but- but d'you think I could get one with both of us? I know all about you, of course! Everyone's told me! About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move!"
On his other side, Harry heard Nott mutter "muggle-born" under his breath, but it was said more so with curiosity than anything else so he didn't comment on it.
"It's amazing here, isn't it?" Creevey continued, almost vibrating with excitement, "I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either - and still can't, really, even though I've been here four years now, so I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him and it'd be really good if I had one of you! Maybe your friend could take it? And I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?!"
Harry was feeling ever-so-slightly overwhelmed. He knew that he was the Boy Who Lived, knew that his scar and dead parents had made him famous, knew that everyone would want to get close to him to benefit from that fame. He'd already had more than a few Prophet articles written about him, after all, and he envisioned many more being published in the future once his ideas and political beliefs got out, but this was the first time he'd been confronted directly by someone who was a… fan.
"Look, kid, you already got a photo, yeah?" Blaise said, smiling at the boy charmingly to soften his words, "Without even asking first, too! I'd take my winnings and quit while you're ahead if I were you".
"But he's- and I'm- and it's just- he's- he's-"
"The Boy Who bloody Lived in Slytherin, yes, we know". Malfoy's voice came from behind them, as posh and prattish as always. "But we don't like being reminded of it! Now scram!"
Creevey, wide-eyed and as skittish as a deer, immediately ran away. Harry blinked, surprised, and turned to face the blond.
"So… do you really hate the fact I'm in your House, or was that you trying to be helpful?"
Draco shouldered past him towards the door without a second glance. "Two things can be true, Lord Gloucester".
Blaise had told Harry to go up the marble staircase in the entrance hall, turn left, and keep walking until he came to another staircase on his right. The door to McGonagall's office would be immediately after it.
He'd also told him not to be late since "She's got a sharper tongue than Snape when she's cross!" and Harry had quietly yet adamantly agreed. Approaching what he hoped was the correct door, he squared his shoulders and knocked.
"Enter".
Harry stepped inside, relieved to find a large fireplace already blazing hot, along with a wall full of bookshelves and directly opposite them, tall windows, in front of which sat a desk.
"Ah, Mr Potter" McGonagall greeted, turning to him with her usual stern expression, although her eyes did soften slightly when they landed on him, "Have a seat".
"Professor" he returned, "Thank you, again, for agreeing to do this-"
She waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense, Potter. I would do the same for any student, especially one who shows promise such as yourself. I trust that you're settling in well enough?"
"Yes ma'am" he agreed, relaxing back into one of the wooden chairs that were positioned near the fire, "Slytherin is… definitely different than what I'd been expecting, but it's not a bad different, it's just… different".
McGonagall nodded thoughtfully, her lips pursing. "Change often feels that way, especially when it is thrust upon us unexpectedly. But you seem to be handling it better than others might".
Harry tilted his head. "Is that a compliment, professor?"
Her stern expression cracked for just a moment, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips. "I'm simply making an observation, Potter. Have you contacted your godfather yet?"
"Yes ma'am".
"And how did he and Remus take the news of your sorting?"
"Better than you, I heard".
She immediately narrowed her eyes at him and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "bloody Severus".
"Nevertheless, I am glad that they have not let old prejudices cloud their view of the matter" she continued after a moment, "I have always trusted the Sorting Hat's judgement and it has not let us down yet".
McGonagall reached for a piece of parchment on her desk and glanced over it. "Now, about your schedule. I've arranged for these extra lessons during your free period every Monday morning. If this doesn't suit you, we can attempt to find another time - though I must warn you, my own schedule is rather full".
"Mondays are fine, professor. They're a bit busy for me but I don't mind. My only other free class is on Thursdays after lunch".
"Thursday after lunch…" she muttered, scanning her own timetable, "I have second years then, I'm afraid. Mondays are busy for you, you said? What other classes do you have today?"
"History of Magic, double Potions, Arithmancy, and then double Defence".
The faintest furrow appeared between her brows. "Ah, yes. Professor Umbridge. A most… unique appointment by the Ministry".
"Yeah" Harry said slowly, "Unique is one way of putting it… I haven't met her personally yet, but I've heard some… things".
McGonagall's lips pressed together so tightly they nearly disappeared. For a moment, she looked as though she wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead, she regarded Harry with a level gaze.
"You'll find, Potter" she began, her tone carefully measured, "that Professor Umbridge has a rather particular way of teaching. I trust you'll conduct yourself with the utmost decorum in her class".
He raised his eyebrows, noting the shift in her tone. "Of course! I mean, I'll try".
"See that you do". Her gaze softened slightly. "I would caution you to take her lessons with… discernment. Defence Against the Dark Arts is not a subject to be taken lightly, especially in times such as these. You may find it necessary to supplement your learning in other ways".
The emphasis she placed on 'supplement' wasn't lost on him.
"And… a word of advice, Potter" she finished, quietly, "Be careful around Madam Umbridge".
Disdain dripped from her voice as she said the professor's name, surprising Harry who had rather gotten the impression that she was a fair woman who tried to see the best in everyone - so just what did that say about Umbridge?
"I don't know how much Professor Dumbledore has told you about her, but needless to say, she will be looking for an excuse to make an enemy out of you. Do not give her that chance".
"I understand what you're saying, ma'am" he replied slowly, "But based on what I have heard, it's already far too late for that".
"... Perhaps" McGonagall allowed with a tilt of her head, "But you still need to be careful. Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than House points and a detention. You are aware, I presume, of whom she is reporting to?"
"Yes ma'am".
"Then keep your head down and tread carefully".
He nodded slowly. "I'll keep that in mind, professor".
"Good". McGonagall straightened her robes, her usual no-nonsense demeanour returning in full force. "And remember - you are not alone in this, Potter. There are those within the school who are aware of the, shall we say, challenges you may face in certain classes… If you find yourself in need of guidance or support, do not hesitate to come to me".
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. "Thank you, ma'am".
She gave another sharp nod before pulling out her wand.
"Now then" she said, "Shall we begin?"
Just over half an hour later, a very exhausted Harry left Professor McGonagall's office to head to his first History of Magic class.
As much as he loved and adored and cherished magic, and as incredible and wonderful and powerful it felt when he cast using his wand, trying to pin down the precise swishes and flicks for each spell was a bloody nightmare. The movements just didn't come naturally to him which really was rather infuriating when he thought about it for too long because-
Really?! He could cast advanced Dark Magic wandlessly without any trouble whatsoever, but as soon as he tried to cast the exact same spell with a custom-made wand that had chosen him specifically, it became impossible? Where was the logic in that?!
Harry trudged down the corridor. The idea of spending his free Monday mornings in McGonagall's office, trying to get a handle on the finer points of wand technique, was both a blessing and a curse. She had been kind enough to offer him the extra lessons, but Harry couldn't help feeling that he was, in a way, failing her. These were things that first years learned, for Merlin's sake! And if a bunch of eleven-year-old muggle-borns who had never practised magic before could do it, then why couldn't he?
Successfully finding the right classroom, he was relieved to realise that he was early, and even more relieved to see a familiar face.
"Hey Neville" he said quietly, sliding into the seat next to him.
"Morning Harry" he replied with a smile, "Where are you coming from?"
"McGonagall's office - I've got extra classes with her to learn how to use a wand correctly".
He grimaced sympathetically. "Ouch. I can't imagine that's any fun. Professor McGonagall's pretty good though! I'm sure she'll help you catch up".
"I hope so" Harry replied, "Honestly, I'm half-dreading our first Transfiguration class if I'm struggling with this first-year stuff!"
"Well, at least you won't need your wand in this class" Neville consoled, "You might need a pillow, though…"
"A pillow? What on earth for?!"
The blond boy lowered his voice and leaned closer. "History of Magic is something of a joke. Binns is easily the most boring professor in Hogwarts - all he does is drone on and on about the goblin rebellions and giant wars. Rumour has it that he didn't even notice when he died - just woke up as a ghost one day and kept on teaching".
Harry glanced over at the teacher's desk where an ancient-looking man hovered an inch above his chair. He was staring at nothing in particular, seemingly waiting for the bell to ring before starting. No wonder Dumbledore had tested him on this subject - Binns looked like he hadn't moved in decades!
Harry was beyond glad that he'd already memorized the textbook for this class, but that thought alone caused another flash of anger to surge through him. How was any student expected to learn the history of the entire wizarding world from someone who didn't even know where he was? Why hadn't Dumbledore replaced him with a competent teacher yet? Why hadn't the Board of Governors or even the Ministry said anything about this yet?!
Between Binns and Umbridge, that was twenty per cent of his subjects being taught by incompetent teachers - and he hadn't even had a single class yet! And who knew what his other professors would be like; some of them might even be worse!
Now that his thoughts had drifted to Umbridge, however, he found that he couldn't shove them away. McGonagall's warning about being careful in her class played over and over in his head, making him… cautious.
The thing was, he didn't know what to expect from her. He didn't know how good or bad she was going to be. He'd heard rumours of course, but Harry wasn't sure whether to trust them or not - a part of him wondered if it was all just exaggerated. He had no idea what kind of teacher she was or what she would be like in person.
But then again, given the laws that she'd tried to pass - and had passed - that personally affected Remus… Harry wasn't optimistic.
He had to admit that it made him feel a little better to know that there were some people in the school looking out for him, though. McGonagall seemed to be a steady presence, someone he could count on, and the knowledge of having someone on his side - someone who truly understood what he was up against - helped steady his nerves just a bit.
And besides, he had double Potions with Snape next and although he wasn't entirely sure if what Blaise had said earlier was true - namely, that the professor actually liked him - Harry was sure that he could win him over eventually. And then, he would have two people on his side, and also someone he could discuss the Dark Arts with. Snape obviously hadn't told Dumbledore that Harry had learned magic from a Rowle, and he was cautiously optimistic that since he hadn't informed him yet, he likely never would.
The thought gave Harry a strange sort of comfort. Whatever Snape's reasons were for keeping quiet, it meant Harry had some breathing room. He wasn't sure he trusted the man yet - in fact, he was certain he didn't - but there was no denying that his silence was working in Harry's favour. He wondered what Snape had told Dumbledore, and then wondered what he'd told the Dark Lord given that after the Prophet's very public article about him, Lord Slytherin most certainly would have asked. But he hadn't done anything with the information yet either.
What was he waiting for?
Harry's gut instinct told him it wasn't idleness - it was planning. Strategy. Slytherin. The Dark Lord wasn't the sort of person to leave things to chance. If he knew Harry had ties to a prominent Dark family, one who supported his ideals no less, then he'd be calculating the best way to use that knowledge. A trap, maybe?
He glanced up as the bell rang and the last few students trickled in. Malfoy gave him a look when he saw that Harry was sitting next to Neville, but Blaise didn't hesitate to take the seat on his other side with a polite nod to the round-faced boy.
Or perhaps Lord Slytherin was simply trying to determine Harry's value in whatever grand scheme he had brewing. Or perhaps he was waiting to see what Harry did next before making his move. Or perhaps Snape hadn't told him about Rowle after all…
Harry barely refrained from letting out a heavy sigh. Barely one hour in on his very first day and he was already exhausted.
It didn't bode well for the rest of the year.