(AN: *Cough cough* Man. What am I doing back at this story? Weird, right? Press Start to Begin needs an update… Anywho…)

(AN: PS- I will be using a timetable made by Shorm on Tumblr. Was fun to look over. The schedule will only matter a few times throughout, but if anyone was interested, this is what I used.)

(ANThree: The secondary name of this story is now Harry Potter and the Baking Club!)


Albus had to know. Had to be sure. Had to. For the sake of the Wizarding World, no, the world as a whole. So there he stood, in his normal spot as the first years slowly walked in. He marked each Heir that chimed on their way in, but finally, as Harry Potter walked into the Hall, Albus leaned forward, activating his mage sight. He couldn't help but sigh in relief. Cassandra's power was still larger than most's in the school, yet Harry's current magic was just as large, and that was while two years younger, and no experience.

Yes, someone with a weak aura could grow their magic as time passed, even surpassing those who were born strong. But it took time, training, effort. So seeing a young and inexperienced Harry already shining brighter than the Slytherin Heir was a sight for sore eyes. Though, that black line that flickered across him… "Hmmm, something to watch out for…" Albus leaned away his balcony once the last of the first years entered. Minerva left her spot beside him, heading down to greet them, dismissing her Disillusionment Charm as she did. And soon, the Headmaster joined the others in the hall, smiling his usual smile at all who looked to him. He saw, just under the table, young Cassandra flash a wave toward himself and Severus, and he couldn't help but smile brighter.

Perhaps things weren't so bad in this wary world they lived in.


Harry walked through the halls with a bit of pep in his step. It was time for his first class of the day and school year, Charms. The rest of his classmates had stayed behind at breakfast, chatting with the rest of their house. Meanwhile, Harry had decided it was more important to actually find the class first. Though, it was nice to do for other reasons…

"Cassandra?" The silver-eyed girl nearly send him flying as she stepped out of the Charms classroom, Professor Flitwick following close behind, animatedly talking with her.

"Potter?" She seemed shocked to see him before her eyes narrowed. "You're not following me, are you?"

"following you?" Harry couldn't help but think about the absurdness of such a thought. "Why would I? I was just looking for the right classroom, so I wouldn't be late on my first day."

"What a splendid idea, Mr. Potter!" Flitwick barely came up to Harry's chest, but the man's jolliness made Harry smile at the Charms Professor. Their Prefect had explained the man near perfectly.

"Thank you, professor. Though it was nice to run into you, Cassandra. Did you enjoy the pumpkin pastries?"

"They were… an adequate sacrifice."

Sacrifice? Before he could say anything else, a hand found its way to his shoulder. "Morning, Potter." He turned to see a large boy, robes trimmed in green, and a frown marring his face.

"Good morning, Mr.…" Harry trailed off, but stuck his hand out to the brown-haired boy.

The boy blinked, obviously not having expected the politeness. "Avery…"

"Well, it's good to meet you, Avery." He pulled a spare sweet from his pocket, holding it out to the boy. "Candy?"

"Right…" Cassandra rolled her eyes and turned to leave as Avery swiftly took the candy with narrowed eyes. "Come. Artith—macy awaits."

Harry frowned as the girl paused in her words. He couldn't help but wonder why she did that sometimes.

"Ohh, Ms. Gaunt, Mr. Potter, Mr. Avery, before you go, I must say, 5 points to both houses. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Fostering unity between houses, and even grades, is something all should do. So good job. And sharing sweets at that. My, I'm do hope the three of you will continue such fantastic pursuits!"

"~Thank you. ~" Avery flinched at the words for some reason, and Flitwick merely shook his head, causing Harry to frown.

"Why does she do that?" Harry had to ask.

"What? The hissing?" Flitwick asked. "I believe she merely does it to keep up appearances within her house. Slytherin is a much different house than the other three. While my Ravenclaws can come close, Slytherin is far too focused on their image."

"…right." Hissing. Sure, it sounded a little like hissing, but the words were clear? Maybe he just meant the way she said them. No matter.

"Ah, I forgot to give her points for her Extra Credit."

"Extra Credit?" Harry asked.

The man waved for the boy to follow him into his classroom. "I do not give it to many people, and usually only for third years and up. But during breaks or the Summer Holidays, I give certain students the chance to earn some extra credit in class, as well as some house points. Ms. Gaunt is the first student in almost two decades to earn points in their first year. I offered her the experience during her first Christmas Holidays. I believe you would enjoy the name of the other person, from 1971."

"Who would that be?" Harry asked as he glanced around the classroom, noting the long tables and stiff looking benches.

"Why, her name was Lily Pottter, nee Evans."

Harry stared at the man in total seriousness. "Really?"

"Would you like to hear a story about her?"


As Harry left Charms, heading for Defense Against the Dark Arts, he couldn't help but smile. The professor had whispered to him on his way out that he'd be sure to get a few pictures together from some of his mother's old friends. He had never heard of the woman before, let alone seen her. So this was simply amazing. Harry hated having to lie to the man, of course, telling him that his aunt had lost all of her sister's pictures in a fire some years ago. Still, at least he would get something nice out of it.

"Harry!" Ron was at his side now. "What a doozy of a class? Huh?"

There had been no practical work so far. Just a long and studious introduction to Charms, their uses, and history. "It was fun."

"I just wish he had gone over more of what the books told us," Hermione interjected herself onto Harry's right side. "Most of what he said was interesting, though some of it contradicted what—"

"I think it was brilliant." Harry interrupted before a tangent had begun. While only having known the girl for less than a day so far, he already knew when she was about to go into a heavy word salad, as his uncle used to always say when a politician would show on the telly. "Personally, I think I'm going to enjoy the class."

Ron elbowed him and whispered, "You think you'll be as good as Gaunt?"

"I doubt it." He'd have to put in some serious work if he wanted to get the professor to give him that extra credit, though would it really be necessary? Though the Christmas Holiday gathering certainly sounded interesting.

"For those who stay during the breaks, I always schedule a small get together of those who I have given these special assignments to. It's a chance for other years and houses to gather together. As I said before, most of the students are third year and up, so the chance to learn is a good reward. Plus, the other students seem to take the gathering as a… competition of sorts. If you wish to know more, you'll have to join us, won't you?"

Harry would certainly have to impress the man. He glanced at Hermione as she flipped through her charms book, pointing out something at the end of the book. She'd probably make it into the group.

"We have Defense Against the Dark Arts now, right?" Nevile appeared from nowhere, startling Harry.

Quickly composing himself, the Harry said, "Yes, with… Professor Quierll?"

"He was the Muggle Studies teacher until last year," Hermione began, "But after taking the year off, he came back to be the Defense Teacher."

"Interesting career choice." Harry muttered.

"I can't wait, personally!" Ron was grinning from ear to ear. "Percy wants to join the Ministry for Politics, but I wouldn't mind being an Auror. Picture it! Ron Weasley Head of the DMLE!"

"DMLE?" Hermione asked.

"It's the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"My father was one." Nevile pointed out. "Actually, so was yours, right Harry? I think your dad was part of my father's team when he first graduated from training."

"Really?" Harry hadn't heard that.

Nevile crunched up his nose in deep concentration. "I have that picture in my trunk… I think?"

"Could I see it?" First pictures of his mom, now his dad? "I've never seen that they look like." He didn't mean to admit that out loud.

"Seriously?" Nevile gasped. "I'll mail my gran. She'll be able to send more. My dad was a few years older than yours in school too, but they were on the Quidditch team, so I'm sure she has some pictures of your dad."

Harry smiled at the kind boy. "I'd like that."

Nevile smiled back.


Defense was a wash, Harry already knew. He could hardly understand the man's words through his stuttering. Plus, the man was afraid of his own shadow. This was such a waste.

"Whoa." Ron stopped dead in the hallway, causing Harry to bump into him.

Before he could say anything, he saw the reason. A veritable horde of Slytherins were coming down the hall, opening each abandoned room, and combing the grounds.

"Watch it firsties." One of them growled as they passed.

"What was that about?" Harry knew the answer as Hermione asked. He saw a nearby portrait open and out slipped Cassandra Gaunt. She walked past swiftly, but for some reason, none of the others saw her. He waved cheekily.

"~Chicken soup~." Harry merely raised a brow as Neville jumped out of his skin.

"Where the bloody hell did she come from!?"

"Ronald!"

"Seriously!" Ron blanched as the girl stepped up to the Defense Teacher's door, knocking on it. The other First Years continued on their way, whispering amongst themselves, but Harry stayed behind, straining his ears. "Hissing like that! Like a snake. Barmy she—"

His voice faded away just as the door opened, and the DADA professor peeked out. "You wanted to see me, professor?" Her voice was blank, and she had an odd calm over her eyes that seemed almost unnatural to Harry.

"A-a-ah, y-y-yes. Ms. Gaunt. Please come in." Harry Narrowed his eyes. He had seen people struggle with stutters before, but it was almost like the man was stopping and starting.

"Like he's faking." Harry whispered. But why?

"Harry!" Ron shouted from the other end of the hall, and the last Potter had to run as Cassandra looked back out of the corner of her eye. He waved again. And there her lip twitched upward again.

"Come on! It's lunchtime!"

Harry wondered what they were serving now.


Harry frowned on his way to Herbology. The reason being obvious as a greasy-haired man stormed through the hallways, anger and fury filling his features. Older Students leaped out of the way, literally, yet the only time he spoke was for a group of Slytherins to get out of his way, actually taking 10 points from them for loitering.

"That's Snape." Ron whispered. "My brothers told me to stay out of his way, that he favors his House."

"Slytherin right?" Harry asked and gained a nod in tune. "Then why'd he just take points?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe they were just messing with me?"

It wouldn't be until dinner that night that Harry would finally get his answer. After Herbology was Transfiguration, which was certainly his favorite class now, sorry Flitwick, but for the time being, Harry was leaving the Great Hall alone, wanting to wander the halls before curfew. Try to find a secret passage like what Gaunt had used. Instead of that, however, he stumbled upon Severus Snape with his wand pressed firmly against Quirrell's throat. Harry froze, almost wanting to run and find another teacher, but the words from Snape caused him to stop in his turning.

"If you ever put a hand on her again, or any student!" Snape was harshly whispering to the man.

"I-I-I di-di-didn't! Honesty, S-S-Severus!"

"Lies."

"M-my ha-hand barely touched her sh-sh-shoulder!" Quirrell whined. "I-I simply w-w-wanted to talk ab-b-b-bout extra work!"

"Ms. Gaunt does not need extra work. Certainly not from you."

"I sw-swear it!" The man begged. "I-I-I also enjoy tracing lineages!"

Snape's wand glowed hot against the man's skin, and Harry winced as the man whimpered. "I have already informed Dumbledore about this incident. I will be talking with every, and I mean every, female student in my house, and pressing the other heads to do the same. If I hear anything that suggests—"

"Please do!" The DADA professor shouted. "You won't hear anything like that. I swear!"

There went his stutter again.

"Anything! I will deal with you myself. Many of those rumors from the war were true, Quirell, you rat. I will personally see to it that you don't make it out of this school alive…" He ripped his wand away, and Harry barely ducked around the corner before Quirell was running past and down the opposite corridor. Harry barely caught the man's face in the reflection of a glass trophy case. Fear.

He blinked when something black blocked his vision. Looking up, he saw the scowling visage of the Potion's Professor. The man's mouth opened, but Harry quickly put a hand over his eyes and muttered.

"Man, those twins really did a number on my vision. I can't see anything today… or hear… or know where I am." He started wildly waving his hand around, stepping around the professor and wandering away.

Barely he heard under the man's breath. "Two points to Gryffindor."

Harry wandered away, trying to track down his main target, who had just left the Hall before him, as always flanked by at least a couple of other Slytherins. From what the professor said, and the earlier rampage the man had done, Harry could only assume what had happened.

He walked up and down the grand staircase, straining his ears, hoping to hear any voices. If she was going to go to the Dungeons, she would have taken a different path, instead she had gone toward the stairs. And… there.

Harry was almost elated that the stairs matched up right away, having heard the horror stories from the older students already, as well as poor Neville, who ended up being late to Herbology after getting dropped onto the First and Seventh floor only.

He leaped off of the final two steps and practically ran at the group that was making their way toward him.

"No running in the halls!" One stepped forward, a badge pinned to his chest revealing his status as a Prefect.

"Go back the way you came, now!" A girl moved forward, standing protectively in front of Cassandra. Harry almost ignored them. Almost. But at the last second, he noticed the wands clutched tightly in their hands. The boy looked murderous, while the girl seemed wary. Meanwhile, Cassandra just stood there, a blank look on her face. He didn't like that one bit. He slid to a stop before the group.

"Hello." He said as simply as possible.

"Leave."

"It's fine." Cassandra muttered. She turned her bright eyes to him, still not letting a single emotion show. He missed the annoyance that he had seen on the Train, or the hidden happiness that appeared when showing off her magic. "What do you want?"

What did he want? Initially, it was just to chat, but now? After hearing Professor Snape… He just wanted to make sure she was ok. It had been a wild first day, to be sure. Yet the words wouldn't come to him.

"Potter?" the boy was agitated. "Hurry it up or get going somewhere."

The female prefect elbowed the boy, giving him a grinding look.

Finally, Harry spoke. "I don't like Quirrell either."

Her eyes stared into his soul and her body froze on the spot.

Before the others had a chance to speak, Harry continued in a rush. "Really, he's an absolute mess and I don't think he even knows the course material. I bet anyone could be a better teacher… Even you or me."

The only sound was her breath quickening by the second. "He's a major tool."

Her breath evened out, and she slowly muttered. "Buttering me up. Potter?"

"Seriously. We're not going to learn anything from someone like that."

"That's a professor, Potter, I'll be taking five points from—"

"I don't. Either. Sssniveling rat." Cassandra scowled at the floor.

"Gr-gr—" The prefect pinched his lips together and let loose a slow breath. "You get one warning Potter. Don't insult professor around Prefects, ok. We have to take points for that sort of thing."

Harry smiled at the boy. "I'll try not to, Mr.…"

"Grant."

"Gaunt and Grant?" Harry looked at the third person. "And about you? Are you a similar name as well?"

"Hardly." The girl snorted. "Farley. Gemma Farley."

Harry bowed to the three. "Well, thank you for the introductions. I'll be on my way then. Take care, you three."

"Snotty brat."

"~I like him~." The hissed voice drifted to Harry's ears and his smile widened as he continued down the corridor.

"Uhh… let's get back to the common room, My Lady. Gemma and I will need to start our patrol soon."

"Fine."

The group walked away, leaving Harry alone. Which was fine, he preferred it… but now he had to figure out what to do about Defense.


Wednesay Morning, Harry stood outside Potions, a double with Slytherin, though only the Gryffindors were there. This was another class that Harry was excited for. He had read the required book front to back just last night. Neville stood beside him, just as giddy, rattling off items left and right, talking about his own Herbology setup at home, and hoping that his knowledge in one aspect would help with the other. Hermione was badgering Ron about something to do with studying.

Harry was surprised, however, and had to glance back at his timetable, as a Third Year Slytherin led her fellow students toward the classroom. Wait, was that Malfoy, smirking at the back? Why was Cassandra leading the First Year Slytherins?

"Good morning." She nodded at the Gryffindors and walked up to the Potion's door.

"Oh, it's locked." Hermione added as the girl reached for the door handle. It opened with ease, and she swiftly walked in with a smirk.

From his position on the right side, however, Harry had seen the girl tap two spots on the left-hand side, and smirked directly at him once the knob turned.

Hermione, however, took it as an insult, and he could already see the girl scowling. Before Harry could speak, Malfoy interjected.

"Potter. Still slumming it, I see with the peasants." The blonde boy made to follow Cassandra, only for the door to swing back, slamming into him, sending the boy careening back. "Who did that!"

"No one—" Harry shivered at the voice that came from directly above him. He looked up, seeing the Potions Master scowling at everyone present. "—Is to enter the room without my permission if I am not present? Understood?"

"But Cassandra went in," Malfoy muttered while rubbing his sore nose.

The man's eyes fell on him. "She has my permission." With a wave of his wand, the door once more opened, and Snape walked in, waving for the students to enter.

Harry followed first, staring around the room in wonder. All sorts of creatures and other ingredients lined the pristine walls. The boy would have whistled at the skill it took to keep a drafty dungeon like this so well cleaned, if he didn't know about magic.

"Pick a desk."

Following his orders, Harry practically ran to the front of the room, sitting in the chair that Malfoy was about to take. Not to necessarily anger the boy, but because right beside the teacher's desk, was a smaller one, covered in books and parchment work, with a Cassandra Gaunt sitting in the chair across, starring at him with a raised brow.

Harry waved.

Finally.

Finally!

Cassandra waved back at him. And he was a bit of that familiar fire from the train in her eyes.

"Sit!" Harry jumped but stayed in his seat, watching as Malfoy jerkily grabbed the chair beside him and fell into it.

"Draco." He said smoothly.

"Potter." The boy practically snarled.

"~Boys~." Malfoy shivered at the words, but Harry could only snort, which, for some reason, confused the girl.

"You all are here to learn the subtle art of Potion-making. There will be no foolish wand-waving or incantations in this class, least of all to be used on each other. While I do not expect many of you to… appreciate the craft, there may be a select few among you who possess the skill and patience to master the skill." He stared at Draco as he spoke. Harry looked at the boy, assuming that perhaps the two knew each other. Though if Cassandra was adopted by the Malfoy's, and Snape was close to her… then perhaps they did know the other. He missed the man's eyes fall on him as he continued to watch the blond instead. "Of course, there are some of you that have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so brilliant that you feel confident enough… to not… pay… Attention!"

His hands slammed down onto their table, causing Harry to jump in shock. "Sorry sir!"

"Potter… our newest… celebrity. Or should I call you a Jester?" Harry smiled at the reminder of the night before. Snape was certainly one of his favorite teachers just for doing what he had to Quirrell.

"My cousin had his dad buy several books on the subject. He got tired after a single chapter, so I got them. I've been practicing my craft for years, sir." Harry smiled at the man.

"Cousin?" Those beady eyes narrowed on him.

"My Aunt and Uncle, sir?" Why would he care?

The man stood, continuing to glare at him. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" The man's question was quick, but Harry knew that exact answer.

"According to Chapter 19 of our textbook, the result is a potion known as the Draught of Living Death. It was an example used to note certain potions that had similar brewing times and ingredients, with only key differences." There was another that Harry was interested in, so he had read that section multiple times. He wished he could create bottled lightning like in the book.

"…Correct." His eyes turned from him, scanning the room he found Hermione Granger, who practically vibrated in her seat. "You there? Where would I find a Bezoar?"

"Sir! A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat! It can save you from most common poisons, and is a common ingredient in several antidotes and even antivenoms."

"I only asked for the location, but…" The man didn't finish his thoughts, finding one Neville Longbottom, awkwardly sitting in his seat beside a blonde-haired Slytherin who certainly didn't seem pleased. "Longbottom, I presume. What is the difference between monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

The boy froze in place.

"Well? I don't have all day, Longbottom."

Malfoy and a few others snickered in the class, but Harry gave the boy a thumbs up.

Awkwardly smiling back at Harry, the boy answered. "S-sorry, sir! I thought perhaps it was a trick question. They are the same thing, also known as Aconite, sir." The boy was blushing bright red, and everyone quieted down in shock.

"That—That is correct." Even Snape seemed impressed. "One point to Potter, One to you, girl, and… three points to Longbottom."

Malfoy gaped at the man.

"Pick your jaw up." The man hissed after turning his back to the rest of the class. "Now then—"

The man's wand had flicked to the front, where a chalkboard was revealed, covered in instructions.

"Instructions are on the board. Do not—"

"Professor." The man paused as Cassandra stood from her seat, smoothing out her robes.

"Ah, yes." The man spun back around, gesturing toward the Third Year. "Due to… reasons you do not need to know. On Wednesdays and Fridays, we shall have a teacher's assistant in the form of Cassandra Gaunt. Do not bother her unless absolutely necessary as she has more important projects to focus on that do not include worrying about First Years."

"Actually, Professor—" The girl walked around to the front of the classroom, and motioned for the man to lean down and she stood on her tippy toes, whispering something.

Harry could barely make out, but it was easily the longest sentence he had ever heard from her.

"May I please teach them the p-proper knif-fe t-t-t-echniques?"

He frowned inwardly. He had heard her stutter once on the train, but twice in one sentence now? Puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place.

"Are you sure? I still expect your Defense work to be done properly."

"I can do it t-t-t-tonight." He saw her scowl at the last word. Ts must have been especially tough for her. He remembered when he was eight, there was a boy who moved in that always struggled with his P's, even three years later. Most of the stutter had vanished, but— "T-t-they need to learn."

"Listen!" Snape spun around, glaring at everyone in the room. "Ms. Gaunt has been kind enough to offer her… teachings. I suppose I forget some of you are more… challenged when it comes to using a knife properly."

"It will be simple." That blank look was in her eyes once more, and Harry started losing track of his puzzle as his vision blurred. He sighed as the class continued.

"You will have ten minutes to learn. No more time unless you wish to be late for your next class."

And so, with only about twenty words said throughout the class, Cassandra walked to each station, showing the difference between cuts on a conjured inedible onion. He didn't know third years could do conjurations. He grinned when she came to his table, and for some reason, she spend more time than most there. It was well worth putting up with Malfoy's incessant bragging just to see her face when Harry grabbed his own knife, and did almost as well, if not better, at cutting than she did. It was a look of shock, fury, and then… mirth. "How?" Was word number 20.

"I did most of the cooking for the family after I turned five." It was one of his favorite things to do. Only because he got to sneak bits and pieces of the food before getting shoved back into his cupboard. He stared into those soul melting eyes the entire time he spoke. And while that fury reignited in her eyes, while speaking. For some reason, she blushed and looked away after he finished. "Did I—"

"~Melting~?" she hissed, and Harry jerked back.

"Can she read minds or something?"

She walked away like nothing happened, nodding at Snape as she did so.

"Eight minutes, not bad." The man whispered just barely loud enough for harry to catch. Of course, he already knew most of the class was already proficient, judging by how she merely stopped at the Slytherin tables and soon walked away. No, she spent most of the time with the Muggle-borns. Plus Neville and Ron. It was funny watching Ron try not to explode in embarrassment. Though Harry was surprised at how well Hermione and even Neville fared. Once Neville got over his own nervousness, the boy was fairly good.

Snape clapped, drawing everyone's attention back to himself.

"To lean on Ms. Gaunt's considerable talents, I must now stress the importance of your knife work. And you should all be groveling for the attention received by her instruction. Now then. Your knife work is the second most important part of Potion-making. With the first being your brain. Knowing the difference between cutting, slicing, dicing, crushing, and more, can mean the difference between a perfect potion and inert sludge. I warn you all now. Take her lesson to heart. Instructions are on the board. Spare ingredients are available in the back of the room for today's lesson should you need them. Double check the recipe before adding anything, but be quick, and make sure you do not melt you cauldron's. Doing so will involve points being taken and detentions given. Begin."

"Don't expect any help from me, Potter." Malfoy said with a glare.

"Well, if you need any from me, just let me know." He sent a dazzling smile to the boy, causing him to flinch away. Harry grinned impishly on the inside. He had spent so many years as the bullied, weak kid. It was nice for once being some place where he could try to reinvent himself. No longer would he be the kid that everyone took advantage of. Instead, he'd become the boy that everyone asked for help from. He needed to do this potion perfectly.

"It seems you knowledge earlier wasn't just a fluke, Potter." Severus Snape stood over his cauldron, eyeing it with disdain. A perfectly brewed potion sitting in his pot. "Are you sure you didn't swap it out with Mr. Malfoy's?"

The blonde sat, glaring at his own cauldron, which, while the right color, it wasn't the exact shade. Of course, Harry wasn't going to admit it was due to Cassandra's note that flew to his desk, telling him to more finely dice his slugs, even though the instructions said to simply slice them.

"Very well. The first to finish, and the best potion of the lot… Five… points…" The professor seemed in pain as he said the dreaded words, and Harry almost stopped the man. "To Gryffindor." He spun around, robes billowing. "Pour your potions into a vial, label them, and leave them on my desk! Potter, Greengrass, Malfoy, Granger… do not empty or vanish your cauldrons."

Harry didn't even know the vanishing spell yet, so he was content to simply let the matter be, and hope from his desk, which he already cleaned to perfection.

"You got lucky, Potter." Malfoy spat.

"Yours looked good as well, Draco." Harry smiled back.

Even Cassandra was packing her things, but Harry decided to step over to her table, happily waving.

"Doing that every time?" She said without even looking up.

"I like it. Don't you?"

"Tiring?"

Harry leaned against her table, eyes glancing at the titles of her books, and realized one was the fifth year spell book. "Not at all. My hand still has a few uses left in it."

"Boys." She rolled her eyes, though Harry didn't understand why.

"I thought third years had class at this time."

"I'm here."

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "A different one? You're working on Defense, and I heard the Professor say—"

"Why do you asssk."

She was hissing her S's again, so Harry decided to back off… for now. "Is there a cooking club in the school?"

She raised a brow.

"I like cooking." He offered.

"I don't know why. I can't stand it. After leaving." Harry didn't quite know what she meant. She seemed to pick up on it. "My muggle family."

Harry smiled sadly. "I didn't at first either, but I grew to enjoy it. Being better than my aunt was a bonus. I made all the dinners for any special guests or business partners my uncle had over."

"Hm." She snorted. "Took all the credit?"

"Of course."

"There is no club."

Short and sweet.

"What does it take to make a club?"

She simply threw a hand toward the Potion's teacher, who, for some reason, was glaring at Harry like he was some sort of demonic being that needed to be purged. "Ask him."

She merely waved over her shoulder and left the room as the rest of the stragglers left.

Harry looked at the near apocalyptic man and did the one thing he knew how to do.

He waved at the man.


(AN: Listen. I'm not gonna lie. I think I'll probably pump out another chapter or two before I feel like going back to Press Start to Begin. This story is just too much fun right now.)