Harry Potter was an unusual boy. Teachers often reported that he was quiet and intelligent, but he was ‘different’. Some said he was different because he was always fidgeting in his seat. Some said he was different because he didn’t care to play with a lot of children, mostly just his adoptive sister. Some said he was different because strange things seemed to happen to him and around him, especially when he was upset.
He had always known he was different, even as a young child, and when he really thought about it, he supposed that was why his aunt and uncle had treated him so badly. His parents had died when he was only a year old, and he had been sent to live with his mother’s sister and her family. Then, in the first grade, he had been taken away yet again and placed with a new family, one who later adopted him.
He didn’t remember much about the incident that caused his aunt and uncle to go to jail and he and his cousin to go into the child services system, but he reckoned it had to be pretty terrible, since no one had ever cared if he had been hurt before. He knew his teacher had reported it, and he had some sort of mild head injury that resulted in the fuzzy details of the incident, but he had gone to school rather unwell one day and never returned to the Dursley’s residence.
He hadn’t known what real familial love was like until he began to live with his (new) Mum and Dad. With the Dursleys, he had been forced to go hungry more times than he’d care to remember, he had been struck for minor infractions and he had been berated and taunted for sport. With the Grangers, though, he was well-fed, provided with warm and fitting clothing, given an actual bedroom with actual books and toys to entertain him. And best of all, he had a big sister, Hermione, who was 10 months his elder and his best friend.
Hermione was special, as well. On her 11th birthday a letter had come, posted by an owl of all things!, which told their parents that she was a witch. She had been invited to a wizarding boarding school and when the new term started she’d be off to Hogwarts and he’d be transferring from their co-ed school to an all-boys school by the name of St. Johns. While he was very happy for his sister, he was also jealous and sad that she’d be leaving him.
Hermione had been his first friend ever, the person who had reassured him that it was okay to open up to their parents and who had convinced him that he could be loved and that he was a good person. As far as Harry was concerned, he didn’t need other friends as long as he had Hermione, and she felt the same way as well. While Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Hermione how much he’d miss her and how he wished she’d be staying at Rushings Academy so they could continue schooling together, Hermione had cried to him more than once that she’d miss him. Of course, they all knew this was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
That’s why the siblings could be found sitting on swings at the park near their house on the 30th of July. It was nearly dinner time, but neither seemed to notice as they propelled themselves forwards and backwards on the swing, talking mindlessly about their plans for the rest of the summer.
“After Mum and Dad take me to buy supplies and books, I’ll need to study.” Hermione fretted, “I don’t want to be behind. I’m sure there will be plenty of kids there who were raised in the wizarding world and I don’t know the first thing about it.”
Harry gave his sister a reassuring smile, “You’ll do fine. You’re the smartest person I know and you’ll be at the top of your class. I’m sure you’ll make a billion new friends and when you come home in the summer you’ll say ‘Harry who?’.”
“Never!” Hermione said in a scandalized tone, not even wanting to think of such things.
Harry jumped off his swing and ran in the direction of a large tree that he enjoyed climbing, yelling over his shoulder for Hermione to come along. When she caught up, he had already pulled himself onto the bottom branch and was hanging upside down from it, “So tomorrow we’re going to celebrate my birthday and go for ice cream. Then on Saturday we’re going to go get your things. That still leaves us a whole month to have the most memorable summer ever.”
“You can help me study.” Hermione suggested, then gasped as he nearly slipped, catching himself at the last moment, “Get down there this instant, Harry! I will not be the one to fetch Mum if you fall and break your leg.”
Harry stuck out his tongue, and replied with a sickened expression, “You didn’t just actually suggest we spend our last month together studying, did you ‘Mione?” He pulled himself up to stand on the branch, “Come on up, I don’t want to have to keep calling down to you. I was thinking we could do something a little less academic.”
“Well we don’t have to just study.” Hermione countered, “We can do fun stuff too, but I want to prepare for my new school.” With a small amount of difficulty, Hermione joined her brother on the branch only for him to move to the one a bit higher up. “Harry!” she chastised, though the sentiment was ruined by her laughter.
Harry dropped back down to her branch, suggesting, “We could go to the community pool. Or catch frogs in the creek behind our neighbourhood. Maybe Mum and Dad will take us to the zoo or maybe up to Blackpool?”
“Or to the seaside!” Hermione said excitedly, “Oh, do you think they’ll agree? That would be wonderful! And I suppose I could read on the way, so then we wouldn‘t be missing out on time together, but still getting to study…”
Harry rolled his eyes, then jumped to the ground and laid upon the grass, staring up at the sky. He waited for Hermione to join him before asking, “You’re going to write every day, right?”
“Of course.” Hermione said, turning her head to look at her brother, “And you’ll do the same?”
“Yes.” Harry chuckled softly, then asked, “Do you think that with owls coming in and out daily, our house will start looking like a park bench covered in bird dung?”
Hermione giggled, “Mum would have a coronary.”
In the distance, both heard their mother’s voice calling out from their nearby house, and reluctantly both stood and brushed off their clothes.
“Race you?” Harry asked gleefully, “Last one back sets the table.”
“You’re on.” Hermione accepted, and took off running although she knew as well as Harry that he’d win. He always did. Still, she knew this was one of his favourite games to play and so she always participated. As he passed by her, laughing wildly, she felt a pang of sadness in her chest. She’d really miss him while he was away.
“Wake up, wake up Harry!” Hermione insisted, kneeling on her brother’s bed, knees on either side of him while she shook him roughly, “Wake up Harry, it’s your birthday!”
Harry groaned and tried to push her away, “Even more reason for a lie-in, don’t you think?”
“Don’t be silly, Harry, it’s time for breakfast. Mum says you can come in your pyjamas since it’s your special day.” Hermione said quickly, “She’s made chocolate-chip pancakes and there are presents on the table! We’re all waiting for you, we’ve already let you sleep until half nine. Happy Birthday, by the way.”
Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily, “Thanks. I’m coming, you can let Mum and Dad know.”
Five minutes later, Harry tiredly flopped into a seat at the table and flashed his parents a smile as they wished him a ‘Happy Birthday’, “Thanks.” he said with a yawn, “Breakfast looks great, Mum.” he said enthusiastically, reaching over to put some whipped cream on his pancake, “You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble, though.”
“Of course I did!” his mother responded, kissing the top of his head and ruffling his hair affectionately, “It’s only your birthday once a year, love. I think you should get your favourite breakfast at least that often.” She winked, “I’ll try to look past the sugar content this once if you promise to brush your teeth straight-away.”
Hermione sat down at the table and poured herself a glass of milk before she began to cut up her food, “So I know we’re going out for dinner and an ice cream this afternoon, but do we have any other birthday plans for Harry?”
“I want to go to the library.” Harry declared before his parents had a chance to speak, “Hermione, will you walk with me to the library?”
“That must be a rhetorical question.” Hermione laughed, “When would I decline such an astonishing offer.”
Their dad placed a worried hand on Harry’s forehead, “Are you ill, son? I thought you just asked to spend your birthday at the library.”
“Oh, hush.” their mother fussed playfully, placing her now-empty coffee cup on the counter, “Go get dressed, I will drop you off on my way into the office.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a tawny owl swooping into the kitchen and dropping a letter on Harry’s plate. Wiping a bit of cream off, Harry stared at the familiar seal and then turned it over to read:
‘Mr. Harry J. Granger
Kitchen Table
3562 Elgin Crescent
London’
“Oh my gosh!” Hermione squealed, recognizing the letter strictly from the one she had received on her birthday last fall, “Harry! Harry!” She turned to her parents with an excited squeal of delight, “Harry got a letter, too! Open it, Harry, open it!”
Hands trembling in anticipation, Harry opened the envelope and pulled out the parchment, reading numbly, ‘Dear Mr. Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry….’
Everything was silent for about thirty seconds when pandemonium broke loose. Mr. and Mrs. Granger stared at each other in shock, trying to formulate a sentence while Harry and Hermione jumped up and down, screaming excitedly and hugging, which caused the owl to hoot noisily and flap around the kitchen in annoyance.
Harry felt like his heart would burst in joy, he would be able to go to school with Hermione and they would learn magic together. This had to be the best birthday ever.
“Harry!” Hermione shouted, running down the hall from her bedroom to his, “Harry, you’ve got to see this!”
Harry looked up from a comic book, mildly amused. This had to be the fifteenth time Hermione had interrupted him in the last hour with different things she had read in ‘Hogwarts: A History’ about the school they would be attending.
“What is it now?” he asked with a smirk, “Another fact about ghosts or perhaps exam procedures?”
“No!” Hermione panted, breathless, as she thrust a book in front of his face, “Harry, you’re in this book!”
“Impossible.” Harry retorted, though he took the book and skimmed through the passage she was pointing to.
‘Lord Voldemort’s reign of terror lasted eleven years, culminating on October 31, 1981 on his attack in Godric’s Hollow. James and Lily Potter were murdered in an attack on their home, orphaning their one year old son, Harry James Potter, otherwise known as ‘The Boy Who Lived’. For more information on Harry Potter, see page 371. After he was unable to kill the child, Lord Voldemort perished in the attack.’
With a frown, Harry quickly turned to the referenced page and continued to read:
‘Harry Potter, the famed ‘Boy Who Lived’, was born on July 31, 1981, to Lily Evans Potter and James Potter. Being the last Potter descendent, he is heir to the Potter fortune, as well as the youngest proxy holder on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Initially, the location of Harry Potter had been undisclosed, yet after he was removed from his abusive relative’s care, his name became headline news once more. The resulting adoption has remained confidential, although new information will most likely become available in the fall of 1991, when Mr. Potter will inevitably resurface during his school years.’
Harry looked at Hermione with a puzzled expression, “There’s no way I could be famous. Wouldn’t I know if I were?”
“I doubt anyone in Muggle London would recognize you, but it does explain all of the people who were staring at you while we were getting fitted for robes.” Hermione said thoughtfully, “I can’t believe you’re famous, and hey, you even got some information and a picture of your parents. Maybe someone at Hogwarts even knew them, they were quite young when they died.”
“When they were murdered, you mean.” Harry said darkly. His Aunt had told him that his parents had died in a car crash, although he wasn’t sure why he believed her since nearly every word from her mouth had been a lie. The knowledge that his parents were murdered, and that their death had made him famous, made his stomach churn slightly, and he nearly wished he hadn’t read that particular information, even though he knew it was better to learn this now than when they were away at school around people who probably already knew his story.
Hermione gave him a quick hug, “It’ll be okay, Harry. I know it’s a shock, but I hardly think this could be a bad thing. After all, you killed a dark wizard when you were just a baby, you must be a brilliant wizard to be able to do that.”
Harry shrugged, unable to pinpoint exactly what emotion he was feeling, although he was definitely feeling something out of the ordinary. Melancholic, perhaps? With a shrug, he silently turned his attention back to his comic. He didn’t want to talk about his parents, he didn’t even want to think about them. As far as he was concerned, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were his parents now and they were the ones who mattered, not people he hadn’t known for ten years and couldn’t remember.
With a slightly worried expression, Hermione picked up her book from the bed where Harry had discarded it and walked back to her bedroom to continue reading it.
Harry rolled onto his back, feeling slightly disturbed by the news he had just received. Famous? He wasn’t sure what that would be like. While he wasn’t unpopular at school, he wasn’t necessarily in the centre of attention and he was perfectly happy only having his sister as a close friend along with several friendly acquaintances. He wasn’t sure he’d want for everyone to know who he was or treat him differently than any anonymous student.
He wasn’t sure how long he laid on his bed and daydreamed about this new development, but soon his mother was calling him down for dinner and, in a bit of a sullen mood, he called back down that he wasn’t hungry. This earned him a visit from his concerned mother, who knew Harry rarely missed a meal.
“What’s wrong, son?” Susan Granger asked, sitting down on the bed next to Harry, “Are you ill?”
“No.” Harry replied, not even looking in her direction and instead staring at the ceiling, “Just not hungry.”
Susan placed a hand on his forehead, clearly disbelieving, and said quietly, “Hermione told me what she found out today, about your birth parents. Is this why you’re upset?”
“I don’t want to be famous. I just want to be Harry Granger, not some hero, this ’Harry Potter’ that they’re probably expecting. I don’t know what happened when I was a baby, but there’s no way I’m some powerful wizard who is anything special.” Harry muttered, his eyes flickering in his mother’s direction, “What if I get there and I’m rubbish at everything and they’re all disappointed or something? I’m nowhere near as smart as Hermione.”
Susan sighed, running her hand through Harry’s hair and speaking gently, “It’s not a competition, love, it’s just school. You’re very intelligent, caring and compassionate, funny…they’ll adore you just like your teachers here do. I doubt they’re expecting someone magnificent and legendary, after all, you’re only eleven years old. You’ll do fine, and no one who matters will be disappointed in you. Your father and I, and your sister, are all very proud of you regardless of your successes, as long as you try your hardest. As far as not being special….I think you are pretty special, indeed, otherwise I wouldn’t have chosen you to be my son.”
Harry blushed, then sat up and hugged his mother tightly, “Thanks Mum. I’m going to miss you while I’m away at school.”
“Christmas holidays won’t be too far away.” Susan soothed, cherishing the hug and holding him tightly. She knew it wouldn’t be too long at all before this sort of talk would be deemed ‘embarrassing’, as would any displays of affection, and she wanted to enjoy the small moments she got until that day happened. “Now come along, I’ve made Steak and Ale pie and it’s getting cold.”
Harry jumped up, his mood greatly improved, and replied, “Steak and Ale Pie? Why didn’t you say so?” He had taken off downstairs before Susan could even stand. As she watched him leave, she chuckled softly, thinking that he would be just fine. After all he had been through, she had learned he was the most adaptable child she had ever met.
“Oh my God.” Harry said in awe as they stood in front of the broom shop, “Do people really fly on these?”
“They play a sport called quidditch.” Hermione supplied, not quite interested in the sport itself but having read about it, she couldn’t help but answer Harry’s question, “It’s sort of a mixture between cricket and football, and it’s played strictly in the air. There are several positions and three different types of balls, a quaffle, a snitch and two bludgers. The bludgers try to knock players from their brooms, the quaffle is used to score and the snitch, once caught, ends the game.” She made a face, adding, “I think it sounds incredibly dangerous, I’d prefer to keep my feet on the ground.”
Harry nodded along, but wholeheartedly disagreed, thinking quidditch sounded absolutely wonderful and he couldn’t wait to ride a broomstick. He was just about to question her more on the subject when he heard someone shout, “Look! It’s Harry Potter!”
Harry gripped Hermione’s arm tightly, prepared to grab her and pull her inside the store to escape the group of people who were now staring at him in awe, some snapping pictures, but was saved the trouble of doing so when his parents exited the pet shop and spotted the commotion.
“Step away from my son, or I’ll have to bring you up on harassment charges.” David Granger said angrily, stepping in front of Harry and blocking him from view, “Susan, please take the children to finish their shopping please.”
The crowd disbanded and Harry sighed with relief, allowing his mother to pull him and Hermione into the bookstore, where there were relatively few patrons. “This is going to be annoying, I can tell.” Harry muttered to Hermione, earning him a sympathetic smile although she was quickly distracted by the large piles of books surrounding them.
They had come into Diagon Alley the weekend after Harry’s birthday, although they had only stayed long enough to get fitted for robes and to stop by the bookstore momentarily before their mother had gotten paged by a patient saying they needed an appointment with her immediately. Hermione had been able to convince her parents to buy her two books that she had already picked out, but they had saved the rest of their school shopping for the following weekend.
“I’m glad we were able to come back, Mum.” Hermione said excitedly, “There are only 20 days until the day we leave, that’s barely enough time to read and prepare ourselves for the first day.”
Harry gave Hermione a shocked and slightly disgusted look, complaining, “Don’t think for a minute that we’re going to waste the next few weeks indoors reading, I’m perfectly happy to read the first chapter or two of my books, but that’s all I’m going to do.”
“You really should set higher goals for yourself, Harry.” Hermione chided, “You could do so much better if you just prepared yourself more. I think we should review everything we’ll be learning this term before we arrive, just in case. After all, a lot of students will have been raised around magic and they’ll know loads more than we do.”
Harry rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to read 4 months worth of readings and text.” He ran his fingers along the books on the shelf next to him, then added, “And you shouldn’t either. You don’t want people making fun of you for knowing all of the answers like they did in our old school.”
“It’s better than not knowing any of the material and having to study half the night the day before an exam.” Hermione retorted, sticking out her tongue and glancing at the book list, “Mum, if you’ll ask the clerk to get the books on our list, I’d like to look for some extra books to read for fun.”
Harry made gagging noises as she said ‘read for fun’, and she rolled her eyes and laughed at his antics, then added, “You can act like you hate reading all you like, Harry, but I’ve caught you reading things that aren’t for school before so you aren’t fooling me. I’ll even show you where the books on flying and quidditch are.”
“Alright, run along then, but stay within earshot, yes?’ Susan relented, shaking her head in amusement when the pair took off, still teasing each other. She had been concerned when they first took Harry in that he and Hermione would quarrel, but they had become friends quickly and were as close as any natural-born siblings she had ever encountered, even closer than some.
She spoke with the clerk, surprised and relieved to know that they kept packages of books behind the counter for Hogwarts students, and she had just began to count out wizarding money to pay for the books when the children approached again.
“There are four houses that you can be sorted into. Slytherin, for the ambitious and cunning, Ravenclaw, for the intelligent and logical, Hufflepuff for the loyal, and Gryffindor for the brave. I think I’ll probably get sorted into Ravenclaw, and you’ll probably be a Gryffindor, with your knack for getting into dangerous situations.” Hermione was telling Harry, who appeared to be disinterested although Susan could tell he was actually hanging on to every word his sister spoke.
“I’m not brave.” Harry said uncertainly, “Not any more than the next guy, really. I don’t know if I’m any of those things.”
“You are too brave.” Hermione insisted, “You do reckless things on your bicycle or in that blasted tree at the park all the time, that requires bravery. Not to mention standing up to your Aunt and Uncle all those years ago. You‘re one of the bravest people I know.”
Harry shook his head, frowning slightly, “What happens if they can’t find a house for you?”
“They feed you to the giant squid that lives in the lake.” Hermione said, only able to hold a straight face for a few moments at Harry’s horrified look. “Relax, they’ll be able to sort you.”
Harry scowled as Hermione laughed at him and then said in a wistful voice, “I want to be in the same house as you, but if you go into Ravenclaw…well, I doubt I’m smart enough for that.”
Hermione shrugged, patting him on the shoulder as she said, “I don’t know for sure where I’ll end up, so it’s too soon to worry about it. And even if we aren’t in the same house, we’ll still see each other plenty, I promise.”
Reaching their mother, Hermione handed over a small stack of books. Susan flipped through them, smiling softly as she spotted the obvious differences in her children. Harry had picked out three books, two being on quidditch and one being on practical jokes involving basic charms. Hermione, on the other hand, had selected another book on Hogwarts, an introduction to the magical world for muggleborns and an instructional book for a first year student that included effective study habits and proper usage of a quill. Susan paid for the additional books and led the children back outdoors, and into the nearby wand shop for the last item needed off of their list.
“Wands.” Harry said gleefully, a slight bounce in his step as his mood clearly improved since his conversation with Hermione over houses. “I’ve been waiting for this all day!”
“Me too.” Hermione agreed giddily, grabbing Harry’s hand and dashing up to the counter, pulling him along.
“Ah, Mr. Potter.” the storekeeper said knowingly, and then looked at Hermione, “…and this must be…?”
“Harry Granger.” Harry said stiffly, still not used to people calling him Harry Potter and feeling odd using that name since it had been five years since the last time he was regularly addressed as such, “And this is my sister, Hermione Granger.”
“We must not hide from who we are, Mr. Potter.” Ollivander said knowingly, “Your story, as well as that scar on your head, are very famous. You can’t hide from this, you represent the end of a horrible era in the wizarding world and you should be proud of yourself and your heritage.”
Harry glared at the man defiantly, “I’m proud of who I am, but I feel it pointless to be proud of something that I was too young to remember and parents who didn’t even raise me. Could I just get a wand, please?”
Hermione looked strangely at Harry, stunned by his outburst as he was normally pretty fair-tempered, and her surprise changed to sympathy when their mother scolded him for his rudeness. They rarely talked about Harry’s old family, and she couldn’t remember ever speaking of his birth parents before the Hogwarts letters came, and she sometimes forgot that he hadn’t always been her brother and had come from a very spotty past. She patted him on the back gently, pushing him forward slightly to pick a wand.
Harry scowled as he was fussed at, not at all sorry for his outburst. He meant what he had said--this Voldemort guy murdered his first set of parents and had royally screwed up his childhood. Why should that be celebrated? Aware that his mother was still glaring at him for his misbehaviour, Harry forced a more neutral expression to his face as he tried out the wands he was being handed. This whole ‘Harry Potter’ thing would definitely take some getting used to.
“But how do we get to Platform 9 ¾?” Harry asked nervously, although Hermione had already told him three times, much to her exasperation.
Hermione sighed, and gripped her trolley firmly, “Watch me.”
She took off at a slight jog and ran straight at the post between platforms 9 and 10, and Harry watched in amazement, alongside his parents, as she didn’t crash but instead disappeared right into the wall.
“Shall we go together?” Harry asked his parents nervously, hoping that they’d be able to cross and terrified to run at a supposedly solid barrier alone. He relaxed slightly as he felt hands touch either shoulder and propel him forward. He took a deep breath as the trolley reached the brick and breathed a sigh of relief then the three of them crossed.
In front of him was the most magnificent sight he had ever seen. Tons of children were on the platform, standing before a magnificent red and black shiny train. Harry watched as students (or their parents, for the younger and smaller ones) carried their trunks onboard and he felt a flurry of nerves in his stomach. He couldn’t decide if he was more excited to finally be off to the school he had heard so much about over the last month or absolutely terrified to leave the only family he had ever known love from, even if it was only for a few months.
“I’ll take these for you.” Dave told his children, and he heaved Hermione’s trunk up first, followed by Harry’s, while Susan fussed over the children.
“I’ll send you a package for your birthday, Hermione, and we’ll write daily. You two need to write as well, let me know all about the school, your classes, the people you meet. And I don’t want to hear about the two of you getting into any trouble.” Susan fretted, smoothing both children’s hair as tears shone in her eyes, “Don’t forget to brush your teeth and change your pants, and please Harry, do get some studying in even without me there to remind you.”
“Of course, Mum.” Harry said, tears glistening in his own eyes even though he tried his hardest to hide them, “I’ll miss you.”
Hermione made no attempt to hide her tears as she flung her arms around her mother, crying into her shoulder. She had never been away from home before, and she was already feeling homesick. “Oh Mum, what if I hate it there? I’ll miss you so much!”
“You’ll love it there.” Susan soothed, stroking Hermione’s hair, “And you’ll be back home before you know it. I want the two of you to take care of each other, okay?”
“Yes, Mum.” Both Harry and Hermione agreed, and Harry’s attention started to waver as his mother started to go on and on about the behavioural code they needed to strive to maintain even in the absence of their parents. He had heard this lecture at least three times to date, and was not keen to hear it again. Instead, he watched the other families on the platform, wondering about who is classmates would be and if they’d get on well.
Nearby there was a large family of redheads, the oldest boy looking prim and proper while the younger ones seemed more easy-going. The mother was fussing over the youngest boy, while a little girl watched on and whinged about being left behind. Harry knew how she felt, he would have probably been whinging too if Hermione were leaving without him. A bit further away was an intimidating man and woman, both with longer blonde hair, talking to a young blonde boy with shining eyes who seemed to be taking in every word spoken with pride. Further down was a plump brunette boy who was chasing after a toad while an older lady seemingly told him off. He spotted a pair of Indian twins, and a few boys who were pushing off their mothers’ embraces and affections. None of the children seemed particularly strange or special or magical, even, although Harry supposed it was to be expected, after all, he and Hermione had no idea they were magical until told so.
After boarding the train, Harry and Hermione navigated compartments until they found an empty one near the centre of the train, and they sat down across from each other, both looking slightly apprehensive and very excited. Once the whistle blew and the train began to move, they squealed with glee in unison, both jumping to their feet and hugging each other giddily.
“I can’t believe we’re on our way.” Hermione said breathlessly, “I’ve read about the journey, it takes approximately--”
Harry rolled his eyes, teasing, “Shut up, ‘Mione. Let’s just enjoy it, okay? I brought some playing cards, do you want to play War?”
“Sure.” Hermione agreed with a giggle, knowing she was probably getting on his nerves with her facts, but also knowing he realized she couldn’t control it when she was excited. She moved to sit beside Harry as he dealt out cards.
They had just began to play when the compartment door slid open and a nervous looking boy stepped inside. “M-May I sit here? I can’t find another compartment.”
Harry waved the boy in, recognizing him as the boy who had lost his toad on the platform, and motioned to the cards in his hand, “Want to play?”
“I-I don’t know how to play muggle card games.” the boy responded, “I-I could probably learn though.”
Hermione smiled warmly, “It’s not hard, we’ll show you. I’m Hermione Granger, and this is my brother, Harry. And you are?”
“Neville. Neville Longbottom.” Neville said shyly, “Harry Granger, you say? I saw you in the paper, you used to be Harry Potter.”
“Used to be.” Harry confirmed, already liking this kid for not going awestruck by the whole ’boy who lived’ thing and recognizing that he was no longer ’Harry Potter’. “What sort of games do wizards play, Neville?”
And thus a friendship was born.
“Justin Finch-Fletchley.” The stern-looking Professor McGonagall called forward to sit under the sorting hat.
Harry felt terrified and vaguely sick as slowly the other first years were being sorted into different houses, and he knew that if they were already on ‘F’, it would be no time before they got to ‘G’. He exchanged nervous looks with Hermione, and nearly fell over when the Professor called out “Harry Granger.”
With shaking legs, Harry stumbled to the stool, very aware of the fact people were pointing at him and whispering. Word had gotten out quickly that Harry Granger and Harry Potter were one in the same, and he had been the subject of stares since he had gotten off the train.
He slid the hat onto his head, his eyes wide and his heart pounding wildly. He didn’t want to be sorted without knowing where Hermione would end up, and he wished wholeheartedly that he had been named Henry or something that came after ‘Hermione’ in the alphabet.
“Hello, Mr. Potter.” The hat murmured, “You need not panic, there is nothing to fear.”
“Mr. Granger.” Harry thought in correction, “Harry Granger.”
“Indeed. You want to prove yourself, to let your actions and accomplishments dictate others’ opinions of you. You want to blend in and be treated normally. You are intelligent, eager to learn and prove yourself, and brave. You are loyal to your sister, and to your friends…but where to place you?”
“I want to go with my sister and my friend Neville.” Harry thought petulantly, “But they haven’t been sorted yet. I don’t want to be alone.”
“You want a house where you’ll feel included and part of a group? Where people will stick together?”
“Yes.”
“All houses become your pseudo-family while you’re here, but there is one house that is known for sticking together against the others out of respect and necessity. It will require you to prove yourself based on your current talents, and they will heed no mind to your fame and status.”
“Please, put me there.” Harry internally begged.
“Slytherin!” The hat shouted, and the hall went absolutely silent.
“Potter, in Slytherin?”
“I knew he had to be dark to have defeated You-Know-Who.”
“He’ll be killed in his sleep by death eaters…good riddance.”
Harry heard snippets of conversations and murmurings as he made his way to the Slytherin table and sat down, not particularly sure why this was regarded as such a bad thing. He folded his hands in his lap, looking back to the stool where Hermione was climbing to sit, and he crossed his fingers tightly that she’d be a Slytherin as well. He felt like he could have burst into tears when the hat called out “Ravenclaw” and the table beside his started to applaud.
He barely noticed anyone else being sorted, although he was vaguely aware that a girl had sat next to him, until a familiar name reached his ears, “Neville Longbottom.”
He knew this boy would not be a Slytherin just by the way the others at the table sneered and talked of him as the hat made a decision. After a few moments, his heart (which had sunk into his stomach at Hermione’s sorting conclusion) now sank somewhere near his feet, he was completely alone in this house, he did not know a soul and no one really seemed to be happy he was here. What a nightmare.
Eventually, some other Slytherins were sorted and the sorting ceremony ended with a boy named Blaise Zabini being sorted into Slytherin. The food was served and as they began to eat, the newly sorted first years began to introduce themselves, although Harry felt it was mostly for his benefit since most of the others seemed to already know each other. Most of the Slytherins seemed to be well-bred and several, namely Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy, even gave the impression of descending from an aristocratic family, while some, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, seemed like people Harry would normally avoid. The other boys, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini seemed pleasant, though, and the other girls, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode and a girl named Tracey whose last name he could not remember, seemed to still be in the ‘I would rather not associate with boys’ stage of their lives. Or perhaps it had something to do with the Potters, since he had gotten the impression from the other students that he was not destined to be in Slytherin, that it was a bad thing.
He glanced over his shoulder at Hermione’s table and saw her deep in discussion with another student already, and he smiled as he could imagine her rambling on about something she had read in ’Hogwarts: A History’. He hoped he would have some classes with her and that they could spend free time together, since being in the school and still being apart would be just as lonely as if she had gone away and they had gone to different schools.
“What are you looking at that mudblood for?” Draco asked harshly as Harry continued to stare at his sister.
Harry quickly turned around, asking with a puzzled expression, “Mudblood?”
“Mudblood, muggleborn…don’t you know anything? Mudbloods shouldn’t even be allowed to go to school here, pathetic lot that they are.” Draco said snobbishly, “My father says that mudbloods should be stripped of their powers completely.”
“If they did that, the entire wizarding population would die out.” Blaise retorted coolly, “We need new witches and wizards to breed with.”
“Filthy, the lot of them.” Draco muttered, though he was still waiting on Harry to answer him.
Harry looked from Draco to the Ravenclaw table, then said firmly, “That’s my sister, and I don’t want to hear you calling her names anymore. If you think that having muggle parents is so awful, then perhaps you should steer clear of me as well.”
“But your mother was a witch, a mudblood witch but a witch nonetheless, and your father was a pureblood. While being a half-blood is nothing to brag about, it’s better than being strictly a mudblood.” Draco responded, looking slightly confused himself now. Surely Potter knew who he was and who his parents were.
Harry rolled his eyes, “I never knew the Potters, I don’t consider them my parents. The Grangers have raised me, cared for me when I was ill or injured, supported me financially and emotionally and would die for me. I was raised in a muggle house, a muggle neighbourhood with a muggle family. Does that make me worthless?”
Draco fell silent and suddenly found his plate very interesting, and Harry issued the rest of the group a challenging glare, as if daring them to say anything about his sister or his upbringing. When the subject changed to racing brooms, Harry finally relaxed enough to eat his meal.
There was no doubt about it, Professor Snape was terrifying and he seemed to have it in for Harry right from the start. After dinner, the fifth year prefects had led them down to the dungeons and into the common room, and then soon after Snape descended upon them as if he could smell their fear. Perhaps he could.
Harry found his eyes drawn to the professor, captivated by his ability to command attention just by speaking and eager to prove his worth to his house. Professor Snape clearly had no intention of treating him like the hero everyone thought he was, and Harry was glad for it. Instead, the professor didn’t even acknowledge him, save for when he told each first year when they’d meet with him to discuss how they were settling in and any questions or problems they had. Harry’s meeting had been placed on the fourth day of classes, after Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe and Tracey Davis. The aristocratic boy who had spoken to him at dinner, Draco Malfoy, seemed to be rather displeased that he wasn’t going to get to meet with Professor Snape until an entire week had passed, while the quiet Blaise Zabini looked relieved to be the last of the group.
After being informed of an incredibly long list of rules, many of which were common sense, the first years were released to their dormitories to get settled in. Harry chose the bed closest to the window, which was slightly creepy since all that was visible through it was water from the lake and several creatures Harry didn’t recognize nor wish to look too closely at. Still, it was the best choice, situated between Blaise and Theodore Nott. He had no intention of sleeping next to Draco Malfoy or Crabbe or Goyle (as they preferred to be called), who he now considered to Draco’s goons instead of friends, and if it meant having to stare into the dark lake water and meet eyes with what he thought may actually be merpeople, so be it.
Harry was the last to finish unpacking his trunk. Crabbe and Goyle had unceremoniously dumped their clothes into their wardrobe and they had brought no books or posters as some of the other students had. On their bedside tables, each had emptied out an obscene amount of candy from a small bag and then set off to play gobstones in the common room with one of Crabbe’s cousins, who was a third year. Draco, on the other hand, had spent five minutes bragging about a charm his mother put on his trunk that would enable it to unpack itself, and sure enough, when Draco tapped the trunk with his wand, everything placed itself neatly into his wardrobe and table.
On the other side of the room, Theodore, Harry and Blaise were doing things a bit more carefully and manually. Blaise had placed his clothes into the wardrobe haphazardly, explaining to Harry that his mother had charmed his clothes to never become wrinkled, but spent a bit longer arranging a stack of books and magazines that he had packed away in his trunk. Theodore had shoved his clothing away and dropped his books onto the table beside his bed, but then spent twenty minutes arranging posters of dragons on the wall near his bed, then another five making sure the pictures of his family were well-protected and safe regardless of the sticking charm he had used to place them amongst the posters.
Harry didn’t know an ounce of magic. Hermione had tried to teach him a spell, Lumos, that she had mastered on the train, but Harry hadn’t thought it important to study on their way to the castle. Apparently, though, he was the only first year in his house that knew no magic. He wondered if he was the first year in the whole school without a clue, and fear seized his insides like ice before he talked himself out of believing that was a legitimate possibility. After being raised with Hermione for a sister, the proper way to clean, pack and unpack and study had been drilled into his head, so he had carefully put away his clothing (not knowing any de-wrinkling charms), lined his books up neatly (wanting to be able to find what was necessary) and placed a framed picture of the Granger family on the bedside table (having no clue what a sticking charm was or how to do one).
“Who wants to go down to the common room and play ‘Exploding Snap’?” Draco asked, staring at the three boys before leaving. He was clearly bored and unused to entertaining himself.
Blaise shook his head, “Not tonight, I’m pretty knackered.”
“I’ve got to write a letter to my mother and father.” Theodore said next, giving Draco an apologetic smile, “They need to know I made it into Slytherin and I promised my little sister I’d tell her all about the castle.”
Harry only raised an eyebrow at Draco with a slight smirk. They had definitely not hit it off at dinner, and there was no way the boy could expect Harry to play nicely with him now. Draco had taken the hint and left, and Harry flopped onto his bed, using a muggle-style ink pen to write on a fresh sheet of parchment, ‘Dear Mum and Dad,.”
“Snape set a lot of rules for us, eh?” Theodore said after a moment of silence, “My parents went to school with him and said he’d be strict, but I didn’t expect to be given a hundred rules to follow on the first night.”
“A hundred, try a thousand.” Blaise laughed, “Lights out by 10 pm? Who does he think he is, our father?”
“Or how about having to be at breakfast at precisely 6:45 am?” Theodore countered, “Breakfast is served from 6:30 to 8:00...why can’t we go in at 7:45 if we want to lie-in?”
Harry laughed at the two, then thought of his least-favourite rule, “I dislike the study groups. My sister is an avid studier and I used to study with her all the time, but I work better alone and being in a study group will be hard for me.”
“How about the first-years-can’t-play-quidditch rule?” Theodore asked, “That one is awful too, I’d love to try out for chaser.”
Harry nodded enthusiastically, “I’d love to be seeker. I can’t wait until I can audition next year.”
With the topic on quidditch and flying, the three boys spent the remainder of the evening talking about the sport, and by the time Harry finally dozed off (fully dressed, on top of his covers in mid-conversation), he was fairly certain that his list of friends had now expanded past Hermione and Neville to include Theodore and Blaise as well.
As it turned out, Ravenclaws were not allowed (by the Slytherin prefects) to sit at the Slytherin table, and Slytherins were not allowed (by Professor Snape) to sit at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast.
Harry sat down beside Theodore, clearly annoyed by this. All he wanted to do was compare his timetable with Hermione’s, yet everyone was acting as if he had committed some sort of felony. All he had been able to discern was that they would have Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions together, as well as share the same free time on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays in the morning. It was possible that they had other classes together, but he supposed he’d have to wait until later to find out.
“Mate, you don’t want to get on Snape’s bad side on the first morning.” Theodore whispered urgently, “He likes Slytherins more than he likes the other houses, but he doesn’t like children much anyway. Keep your nose down and stay under the radar.”
Harry frowned, looking over his shoulder at Hermione, who was talking to one of the Indian twins he had seen at the platform before boarding the train the previous day, and gave her an apologetic smile. He didn’t want to cause Hermione any grief from his head of house either, but they’d have to find a way to talk to each other once in awhile so he wouldn’t go completely crazy.
“Thanks for the tip, Teddy.” Harry said with a wry smile, adding some marmalade to a slide of toast, “I’ll keep that in mind. I’d hate to make an enemy of our head of house on the first real day here.”
“You want to spend some time with your sister?” Blaise asked, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear, “I have an idea. I’ll tell Snape that we’re forming a study group--me, you and Teddy, and then we’ll all go to the library together. You said you don’t like to study in a group, so you can use the time to visit with your sister while Teddy and I actually study. It’s a win-win situation, you get to spend time with your sister and we don’t get stuck in a study group with Draco Malfoy or his two idiot sidekicks.”
Theodore and Harry readily agreed, and the trio shook on it before finishing their breakfasts so they could go get their books ready for class.
Harry’s first class happened to be Potions, and he soon learned why Professor Snape had a reputation amongst all houses for being strict, tough and downright scary at times.
The first mistake he made, apparently, was sitting next to Hermione, because as soon as the professor spotted them seated beside each other, he gave them a glare that could have frozen a volcano. If looks could kill, Harry thought he’d be long gone after just a moment in the professor’s presence.
“Mr. Potter, our new celebrity.” Professor Snape sneered, descending on the Granger siblings ferociously, “Do not think that your…status…will warrant special attention in this classroom.”
Harry nervously looked to his sister, then back at the professor before correcting, “I no longer go by Potter, sir, my surname is Granger and has been for the last five years.”
“One point will be taken from Slytherin for your cheek.” Snape hissed, causing the other Slytherins to gasp. Snape never took points from his own house! “So arrogant, just like a Potter.”
He moved as if to walk away, then spun around and narrowed his eyes at the boy, “What would I get if I add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” he asked, placing his palms flat on the desk in front of Harry, close enough to where Harry could feel the professor’s breath against his face.
Harry flinched slightly, his stomach flip-flopping slightly as he tried to recall what Hermione had told him about potions during the last few weeks. By the way she squirmed beside him, he knew his sister knew the answer. Taking a steadying breath, Harry tried his hardest to remember, finally blurting out the concoction that seemed to stand out in his mind, although he had no idea of it was correct, “Drought of the Living Death, sir?”
“And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?” Snape spat out, moving back slightly after Harry had answered his first question correctly.
Harry gulped, thinking back to what Hermione had been talking about just a few days prior when she was talking about common muggle plants and animal parts that could be used in potions. A little unsure, but not willing to back down and admit defeat, Harry stammered, “I-In the stomach of a goat, sir.”
Snape’s sneer deepened, as if it were actually painful that Harry was answering his questions correctly. With a much more venomous tone than was necessary, he asked, “And what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfs Bane?” He smirked nastily, as if he knew this one would finally stump the raven-haired boy who had proven himself to be an arrogant nuisance just as the professor had feared he would be.
Harry grinned triumphantly, knowing the answer to this straight off. Hermione had complained to him on the train the previous afternoon that she found it ridiculous for three plants to be the same yet named differently, and it had stood out in his mind because Neville had been quite keen to explain that the name differences came into play when used in potions because of the actual part of the plant being used. Apparently, Neville was a fan of magical plants. Confidently, he answered, “That’s the same plant, also known as Aconite.”
Beside him, Hermione’s lip jutted out in a slight pout, as if she had wanted to be the one answering questions, but Harry felt pleased with himself and the knowledge he had displayed. It was as if the Professor was testing him, and he passed with flying colours. Perhaps he wouldn’t do too terribly in this school even if he couldn’t perform basic charms yet.
“That is correct, Mr. Po-Mr. Granger. Twenty points to Slytherin for being prepared on your first day.” Snape conceded, watching Harry intently as if searching for something that he couldn’t seem to find. “In the future, though, I’d prefer if you’d work with one of your housemates. I think you’ll find Mr. Malfoy shares your wealth of knowledge in this subject.”
Harry glanced sadly at Hermione before nodding, “Yes sir, of course.” Looking back, he should have known Professor Snape would feel this way, since the first rule he had given them was that Slytherins were to stick together outside of the common room walls and support each other regardless of personal opinions while in public. He reached under the table and squeezed Hermione’s hand gently before turning his attention to what the Professor was instructing them regarding the potion they’d be working on today. He could only hope Blaise would be able to convince Snape to let them form a study group and study in the library.
“We’re in!” Theodore said triumphantly as he approached Harry, Hermione and Blaise in the courtyard after lunch, “He said that he was glad we were showing some initiative regarding the mandatory study groups, and that he’d evaluate our partnership after Harry’s check-in meeting with him in a few days, as well as after Blaise’s and mine. We have permission to meet in the library nightly from dinner until curfew without having to confirm our location with a prefect.” At Hermione’s puzzled glance, Theodore added, “That’s Slytherin house rule number four million thirteen.”
Harry and Blaise laughed, and then Harry turned to his sister with a smile, giving her a high five, “This is perfect!” Turning back to his friends, he said gratefully, “Thanks guys!”
“We wouldn’t want you to mope around until Christmas.” Theodore teased, “Nor getting any crazy Gryffindor-type ideas that would lose us points and get us into trouble with Snape. It’s in your blood, you know. Your parents--the Potters, of course--were as Gryffindor as they come. That’s probably why Snape was on your case like that, everyone knows he hates Gryffindors.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Neville said with a sigh, approaching the group and slumping into a seat next to Hermione, “Although I think my fellow Gryffindors aren’t picky about which Slytherin they hate, whether it be your head or any of you lot.”
“Rest assured, that sentiment is mutual as well.” Blaise scowled, thinking of the redhead Weasley that had started trouble with him during Transfiguration class before lunch, “I swear, if I have to hear one more word from that prat, Weasley, I’ll punch him in the face.”
“And break rule 6,463,216,004?” Harry asked with a smirk, “I doubt it, Blaise. But I agree, he is a prat.”
Hermione looked at Harry questioningly, “Who are you guys talking about?”
“That guy over there.” Harry said, pointing in the direction of a group of Gryffindors sitting underneath a tree, playing some sort of game, “The one with the red hair. His name’s Weasley. During Transfiguration this morning, we were transfiguring matches into needles--”
“Trying to, at least.” Neville interrupted with a frown. His match hadn’t even changed to a metallic colour, much less into a need, “Only Harry managed to get his match to look like a needle, only it still lit when struck against a desk.”
Harry rolled his eyes at the interruption, although he didn’t seem too bothered by it, “As I was saying, we were transfiguring matches into needles and Weasley couldn’t get his to do much of anything. When Professor McGonagall came around to grade us, he swiped the half-transfigured match off of Blaise’s table and replaced it with his own, and Blaise failed his first lesson. When he tried to tell McGonagall what had happened, she took off five points for lying and then chucked him out of class for attempting to start trouble in her classroom after she warned us not to.”
“That’s awful!” Hermione said sympathetically, “I can’t believe he would take your work for his own!”
Neville scowled, looking generally displeased by everything that had taken place, “I almost wish I wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor. The boys in our year, Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan…they’re not like me. I don’t think I fit in with them.” He sighed unhappily, “My parents had been in Gryffindor, so I thought it would be great to be in their old house, but I don’t think the hat sorted me right.”
“I’m sure the hat knew what it was doing.” Theodore said confidently, “Maybe you’re just a late bloomer? Just because you’re in the same house doesn’t mean you’re the same…I mean, we have to share a room with Malfoy for Merlin’s sake!”
“And you’re no Malfoy.” Neville snorted with a slight smile, feeling a bit better with their reassurance, “Did you know he knows how to do a tripping jinx? I saw him try it on Ernie McMillan from Hufflepuff earlier.”
“Stupid git.” Harry glowered, thinking of Malfoy and that horrible word he had called Hermione the previous night. He caught his sister’s surprised expression, she was not used to him calling other people names like that, and he smiled apologetically, “Malfoy and I had words at dinner last night, I don’t think we got off to a good start, nor am I interested in rectifying that.”
Hermione shook her head, muttering ’boys’, and then looked down at her wristwatch, “Oh no! We’re late for Defence Against the Dark Arts!”
Bidding Neville goodbye, the four other students took off in a run back into the castle, only to collide with a tall, intimidating figure just inside of the castle doors. Sprawling to the floor, the four first years looked up and gasped.
“Professor Snape!” Theodore yelped, muttering so only Harry could hear him, “So much for staying under the radar.”
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Snape asked in a drawling voice, “I do believe you’re expected to be in Professor Quirrell’s class at the moment?”
“We got lost, sir.” Blaise lied, although the guilt was evident on his face and no one was fooled, “We’re still learning our way around the castle.”
Snape’s gaze narrowed at the blatant lie, and he icily asked, “And you couldn’t acquaint yourself with the castle after your found yourself evicted from Transfiguration this morning?”
“I-uh-I suppose that would have been a better use of my time, sir. I apologize.” Blaise stammered, the nervousness he felt evident on his face and in his voice, “It won’t happen again, sir.”
“See that it doesn’t.” Snape said with a curt nod, “I shall overlook your carelessness this once, but I expect you to be in all of your classes, on time, from now on.”
Without another glance at the group, Snape walked away, leaving four very relieved first years behind.
“He doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he did earlier.” Hermione commented to Harry as they made their way to the Defence classroom, “If he did, I’m sure you’d be in detention tonight.”
Harry shrugged, though on the inside he felt pleased by Hermione’s opinion. She was usually right about people, and he wanted nothing more than to fit in with his house and his new friends, and even more so, his head of house. Looking at his friends, he couldn’t help but think coming to Hogwarts was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
And then he arrived in Defence.
To be continued...
To be continued...