"It's finally getting interesting—I swear, after History of Magic and Magic Theory I was starting to get really worried, but Charms is so cool! And Professor Flitwick is incredibly nice, although he did fall off his stool when he read my name." Harry babbled happily, tacking that last part on with a frown. He'd been mentally debating telling the tiny professor to call him Monroe like he did with everyone who made a big deal of his famous status, however Flitwick got over it pretty quickly, so Harry had let it slide.
"Ah, Filius was so excited fer ya to start—Charms was yer mother's best subject and she probably would've been a Master in it if it weren't for the damn war," Hagrid unwittingly soothed his internal annoyance away like firelight melted snow, pouring him another cup of tea—not that he needed it since he'd never finish the liter-sized cup of earl grey before it was ice-cold. Harry found himself forgiving the tiny professor begrudgingly; it was one thing to be gawked at for being the Boy Who Lived, but another if he were excited simply because he was his mother's son. Maybe he'd be willing to speak about her, since if what Hagrid was implying was true then the Charms Master must've known her well.
"I don't know enough about the class to know if I'm any good at it or not yet, but we'll see I guess." He shrugged as Hagrid sat himself back down and pushed a plate of rock cakes his way. Harry simply kept nibbling on the one he'd taken when he got here. Rock cake was a very apt name, but they were pretty tasty once you got through the solid-stone of an outer shell.
"I heard from Minerva that yer a right prodigy at Transfiguration—ah, though don't go tellin' her I told ya tha'!" Hagrid chuckled, and Harry smiled plainly.
He was pleasantly surprised to get the invite to tea at Hagrid's, and ditched everyone without a second thought to track down the man's tiny little hut—he'd needed directions from Professor Sprout but once he saw it he couldn't imagine how he'd missed it. It was tiny and warm with a big fire in the middle of a rather warm September that for some reason he really just didn't mind. Plus, Hagrid had showered him in tea and homemade rock cakes—sitting down with a big blanket he was crocheting and letting him rant his head off about his classes so far. The giant of a man and his ferociously named hound Fang (who was now curled up contentedly at their feet) felt like a little world of their own compared to the large castle looming over them where the hut rested nestled in the shade of the Forbidden Forest.
The home itself was colorful, slightly off, cluttered, and homey. Harry loved it and found he loved Hagrid even more than he already did—he could just imagine his parents as students sitting in this same seat and politely refusing more rock cakes as Hagrid lent them an ear. He was a kind man who seemed willing and happy to treat everyone with the same kindness and openness he showed his closest friends—which meant you felt welcome in his tiny little hut within seconds of stepping inside. Harry loved it.
But he was also careful: as much as he loved Hagrid, and the man was just an enticingly gentle, open-hearted ear, he could not hold a secret. He was also privy to the teacher faculty room, so Harry was quickly learning more about his professors than he was sure they'd like him to know.
And he wasn't even in Slytherin officially—they'd really hate how much he was learning here if they knew how close he'd come to going to the snake's house.
Regardless, Hagrid was someone you felt compelled to trust and be open with, but Harry knew where to draw the line. Classes and classmates, homework and his time here in the castle, it was all fair game. Certain things though… well, as a general rule, if he didn't want Dumbledore knowing about it, he didn't tell Hagrid. Simple as that.
But even with how much he held back, tea and good company was never a waste of time, and he was enjoying his time with the giant man.
"I won't," he promised with a wide, albeit blank smile. If it became important for leverage on the Transfiguration teacher later down the road, he absolutely would tell her without a second thought—but Hagrid would forgive him, he was sure. "I do like Transfiguration too, although I got into an argument with her and she gave me extra homework," he huffed.
Hagrid chuckled. "Minerva used ta say James was a Transfiguration prodigy too, but he never put in tha' effort really. Used to driver her up tha' wall!"
"So my dad was good at Transfiguration, and my mom Charms." He put together aloud, mulling that over. He had a lot in common with his mother, he was slowly learning, so having something in common with his dad wasn't a bad thing. Plus, it was interesting, and Dell's tales renewed his interest every time he read them. "I guess I like those two best so far, but I'm definitely better at Transfiguration. At least we've done some magic in it to know what it's about."
"Some students jus' like the action bit." Hagrid shrugged easily. "How abou' Defense then?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Professor Quirrell has a stutter—I couldn't understand a word he said. And it was mostly just reading from our texts which I prepped for, so nothing new. I don't think I'm going to learn anything in that class." Plus, almost immediately upon entering the classroom he'd gotten a headache, which Neville was very concerned over. Harry blamed the garlic smell and poor lighting with his equally poor eyesight even with his magical contacts—it happened Tuesday during his first class, and again just an hour ago at his Thursday afternoon class. So it was clearly related to the room or something, though he couldn't pinpoint it.
Neville turned out to be a bit of a worrywart though, and although he hadn't said anything aside from one soft suggestion that he go to the Hospital Wing, had then stood silently beside him and given him the saddest more unfair set of disappointed puppy dog eyes until Harry couldn't take it anymore and excused himself from class to go lie down—if only to pacify his friend since he really did feel much better literally minutes after leaving the room.
He wondered if he'd get in trouble for skipping classes at a magical boarding school—if Quirrell would even notice as he hadn't taken attendance after that first class and had let him leave early both times with so much of a stutter, Harry had already left before he got his 'y-y-y-y-y-y-es' out. As Draco had warned him, the class was interesting in theory but since they wouldn't be learning spells for at least this year he saw little point in actually forcing himself to endure headaches like that. Maybe he could work out a deal with Madam Pomfrey…
And despite the surprise Neville's mother hen traits were, it was not that he didn't mind the moment to rest: Astronomy was held at midnight and he was still an early riser so that was definitely going to take some getting used to. He thought it was kind of stupid, to have a class that late on Wednesday night, and then they'd just announced that flying lessons would begin next week on Thursday afternoons, so the current hour Harry was wasting down at Hagrid's. It was poor planning on someone's part because he was already tired as hell from the sudden lack of sleep and then adding something dangerous (as McGonagall had implied) like flying and he failed to see why this was a good idea for eleven-year-olds. Astronomy couldn't be on a Friday, for example, when they didn't have to get up and get on with the rest of the week? And it wasn't plenty dark enough at 10pm instead of midnight to see the stars?
He huffed and took another sip of his massive tea, adding another point to his mental list of 'what was wrong with this school'. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with that list but he was going to keep track none the less.
Astronomy itself was fine. Memorization and squinting at stars while trying not to yawn or fall asleep was fine for him, but not interesting in the slightest. He also wasn't 100% sure on the relevancy of the stars on magic just yet, but figured they'd get to it once they had the memorizing bit under their belt. The best part was definitely that it was all four houses, and he's dragged Neville to sit beside his new Slytherin "friends" (meaning Draco who was his friend and Blaise and Nott who'd been doing their best to ignore him since they realized they wouldn't get anywhere by being passive aggressive and were not yet willing to be outright aggressive in telling him to get lost).
Slytherins were good students, but not out of love of learning but because they seemed a bit particular about perfection. Draco had the style and the grace about him, but Blaise was definitely the effortless one: slightly less graceful but he didn't have to try nearly as hard as Draco did to be good at school, sort of like Harry. Nott had not looked his way since their first day so jury was still out on him, the silent weirdo.
Blaise was also a talker, but trying very hard not to be, especially when Harry was nearby. Still, Harry had caught him biting down smirks or laughs at some of the things he and Draco talked about and making tiny facial expressions that said he was definitely eavesdropping on them. He'd also had a moment in Charms this morning when he'd gone off about one of their homework questions and how he was technically correct even though Flitwick marked it wrong, and he was into it for about two minutes before he realized he was addressing Harry as well as the other two Slytherins and snapped his jaw shut, returning to their assignment without acknowledging what he'd just done.
Yes, Harry planned to win him over too, and he wasn't half as hard as McGonagall was. Draco just seemed amused by the whole thing, which was a plus. The blond had been very hard to make smile since they got to Hogwarts, but more tense than Harry had ever seen him before so the moment he could lighten up (even at Blaise's expense) Harry was thrilled.
He had a suspicion about what Draco was so tense about, but he knew his butting in wouldn't be appreciated, so he kept his mouth shut.
"But all yer other classes good then? Excited about flyin' lessons?" Hagrid broke into his spiraling thoughts, and Harry flashed him a grin.
"Yep. Seamus said he found my dad's name on a trophy in he award hall; apparently he was a good player?"
"Yeah 'e was! One o' the best chasers in a long while, but more entertainin' than anythin'. He was a bit o' a class clown, ya know?"
Huh.
"I didn't. I've never really been the class clown for anything." He frowned. Not that he didn't enjoy class clowns, but even if he didn't have the added motivation of never causing the scene and pissing off the Dursleys, he'd never felt the desire to disrupt class or crack a joke in the middle of a class-like situation. He didn't consider himself unfunny, but he wasn't the comedian of a crowd. It was foreign concept to him.
"You know the Weasley twins then, ya?" Hagrid prompted and Harry felt thrown by the shift.
"Uh, yeah. Yes of course, they're really nice." And they were: they were some of the only people who'd never once asked about the shiny pins he wore in his hair or stared at him when he walked by. In fact, they still called him Apples and seemed to get great joy in doing so: a childlike, thrilling joy that got everyone around them grinning too. Plus, they were royal pranksters: they'd been here four days and he'd already seen three pranks that no one wondered who the culprits were. He found them extremely enjoyable.
"Yer father and 'is friends were a lot like that. Wild, smart-alec pranksters: drove Minerva up tha' wall! I spent mosta those days chasin' 'em away from tha' forest, cause they were too damn curious fer their own good. Musta spent a hundred detentions with 'em too!" He let out a booming laugh and Harry's felt his eyes grow wide.
He…his dad…?
There was so much to unpack there he opted to shelve those thoughts and come back to it later. He settled instead for going after another sip of his tea, letting that train of thought die before Hagrid could launch into another story or elaborate.
On cue, Hagrid took the silence as a natural cue to move topics—probably not aware of what he was doing but very good at small talk and able to follow the course of conversation easily enough.
"Ya got yer firs' potions class then tomorrow. Prepared for it?" Hagrid chirped conversationally, and Harry played for time by taking his time on his sip of tea—a huge task given the size and weight of the massive tea cup.
"I was excited for it since it definitely seemed like the most interesting of all the classes, and I like cooking so kind of thought the two skills would relate. Everything I'm hearing about Professor Snape though makes me nervous. And he clearly isn't fond of Gryffindors—I heard the rant he gave the Weasley twins when he caught them for their prank at breakfast this morning. Sounds like a real piece of work to me."
"Hes' got a bit o' a reputation, fer sure." Hagrid allowed. "Was always a weird kid too, kept to 'imself mostly. If memory serves he didn' like James at all but he was friend with yer mother at least when they were firs' years I think. Caused a real ruckus, a Gryffindor and Slytherin bein' friends and all."
Harry blinked wide, trying to wrap his head around that. Snape had been friends with his mom?
Wait…
"Okay, so sort of like Draco and I?" He prompted and Hagrid had the decency to look abashed. The giant man had been clear of his distrust of the Malfoy family in general, but after an hour of Harry talking about his friends—Draco in particular—he seemed to just give in to the idea that Harry wasn't about to not be friends with Draco just because of a stupid rivalry. And Hagrid—the sweet oaf that he was—seemed to treasure Harry's friendship more than his grudge and had come full-circle to actually being polite when mentioning the blond Slytherin. He was blissfully easy going like that, it seemed.
"Ah, true," he relented. "Not sure what 'appened though. Turned out ta be a genius at potions but he's an odd one fer sure. You'll find mos' Gryffindor upper years got nothin' good to say about 'im."
"I got that feeling," He sighed. Snape reputation was infamous, and Harry was making his rounds around the school like the social butterfly he decided he wanted to be and so he got a lot of details he kind of wished weren't going to end up being true. Heck, even the Ravenclaws warned him Snape was a bully towards Gryffindors, and while they weren't the sort to lambast someone with insults or speak back to a teacher because of injustice, their very serious, quietly hushed warnings spoke volumes.
He wondered. If the odd bat and his mother had been friends in warring houses, but only in the beginning… maybe there was a falling out? And the implication he didn't like his dad was unsettling too. Seemed he had quite a bit stacked against him in particular—or maybe Hagrid was just reminiscing about Lily Evans and James Potter in particular given their son was sitting in front of him, but Snape hated everyone equally.
Harry had a feeling that his luck wasn't that fortunate. It was the same gut feeling he got when watching Dudley's gang from across the street and hoping they wouldn't see him or just decide to leave him alone that day—when his stomach sank he knew better than to ignore that instinct to run.
Well, nothing he could do but wait for tomorrow and find out for sure. So, he heaved up the giant teacup to take another drink and spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying Hagrid's light-hearted company, trying not to think too hard about tomorrow.
000
"Would you like to say something, Blaise?"
Harry was light and polite when he asked, and the tall boy beside him just turned his chin forwards once more. The Slytherin had been staring at him not so subtly since they left the Great Hall, and Draco had actually dropped behind them. His expression was calm and smooth as always, but Harry knew his stomach was in knots over this coming potions class. Harry couldn't fault him—he sort of felt the same way but was apparently better at hiding it.
"Oh nothing." He sniffed in a tone that clearly said there was something. He followed through by only letting one delicate pause hover in the air before continuing. "Just curious if you're actually going to go through with this."
'This' being the fact he'd claimed Draco as his potions partner. Which mean sitting on the Slytherin side of the room (he'd been warned by upper years to sit in the back of the Gryffindor section if he wanted to live, so apparently there were sections to deal with). Which meant sitting front and center on the Slytherin side. And having Snape literally right there to breathe down his neck.
I want to say 'how bad can it be?' but know that'll just jinx it, wont it? He thought morosely to himself.
"Not for nothing, but I am a Gryffindor. Theoretically that would mean I'm brave." He snipped back lightly.
"Theoretically." Blaise repeated blankly. "I'm going to sit behind you and enjoy the show."
"Please do. What good is my life if I am not an entertainment to you?" Harry grinned warmly at him, so believably there was no way the apt Slytherin didn't miss the sarcasm. True to form, Blaise's lips almost twitched like he was slamming down on a smile; instead he stared down at the tiny redhead beside him with a careful show of distain that Harry didn't buy for a second.
"Harry," A voice called and he was about to turn around when he felt a hand on his arm pulling him around, and he automatically jerked back violently to wrench his arm free, whipping around to see Ronald bloody Weasley with his hands up in a 'I surrender' pose in response to his reaction. Harry only half noted the instant growl on Draco's face behind his shoulder and thought, well, at least he wasn't moping anymore.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." Ron back off half a step, and Harry tried not to be annoyed. He attempted a smile that he was sure the Slytherins saw right though, at least.
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to be partners for this class? Everyone else is paired up."
A lie, since Harry could see Hermione standing near the classroom door, alone. However, he also knew Neville hadn't partnered up with anyone yet, which meant there would be an odd person out and theoretically would mean a three-man team would form or someone would go solo. He wanted to bank on a Slytherin group getting the three-person or Hermione going solo. He wanted to ask if Neville could be part of his and Draco's team, but wouldn't risk Draco's potions when he was already tense over being openly friendly with a Gryffindor—much less willingly participate in a team where he was outnumbered two-to-one.
Plus, he had a sneaking suspicion Neville would've accept to be on Draco's team, regardless.
"Sorry, I have a partner already." He declined, hopefully more politely than he felt.
Ron's expression clouded, and then turned angry when he looked up over his shoulder—at Blaise for some reason. Well, not shockingly as Draco was a bit farther away and he had just been talking to Blaise but, whatever. Anyone with two braincells would know who Harry very publicly hung out with and wouldn't say what suddenly came out of his mouth to Blaise of all people—not Draco.
"What's wrong with you? What do you get from hanging out with slimy snakes like them?"
'Them', said while looing straight at Blaise.
Who went from zero to a hundred real quick.
"As if there's anything to gain from an impoverished piece of rubbish who can't be bothered to even take a shower once a week like you? We can hear your moaning and griping all the way from our table every damn night and you're just an attention seeking brat with no reputation, and no dignity to gain yourself one before calling out people well above your station you bloody hog." He snapped with a whirlwind of very well-articulated anger—his voice not rising but the fire in his chocolate eyes burning something red hot. Harry was actually super impressed: he was certainly not that composed when he was pissed off, and Blaise somehow made rage seem pretty.
"You-!"
"I'm not available Mr. Weasley so I think we're done. Maybe go find an open partner?" Harry cut in before it got any more heated. Class was about to start and he really didn't want to be mid-spat when the infamous Slytherin-biased teacher caught Slytherins and Gryffindors growling at each other.
He caught sight of Draco glancing at Neville—who was facing down the hall pointedly as if not making eye contact would drop him off Ron's radar. So it seems he didn't want to be Ron's partner either, despite being available. Not that there were a lot of options left, but he wasn't going to offer first, but let the chips fall where they may.
"Why would you chose to partner with a Slytherin though?" Ron was not getting the message, his cheek flushed red in agitation.
"Uh, they're good at potions?" He said it like it obvious, which is was. Even if it was a stereotype, there was some truth to back it up and Harry was after a good grade here: the Slytherins listening in could appreciate using something for gain, unlike the Gryffindors who thought it seemed kind of cheap.
"You'd put that over enjoying yourself?" Ron snapped.
"First of all, I'm fairly certain this class is not designed for Gryffindors to have fun: the object is survival, Weasley, get with the program. Secondly, who said I wouldn't enjoy myself? Draco is my friend, unlike you who has been nothing but rude since we met." He countered smoothly, no anger in his voice and keeping his voice relatively low because he knew they were making a scene and hoping people would stop looking at them argue. No such luck, but he tried.
Especially when Ron turned bright red.
Nott cleared his throat lowly and several Slytherins seemed to take this as some kind of cue.
"Okay we're done, time for class." Draco physically stepped between the two redheads and put an arm around Harry's shoulder lightly to guide him away, Blaise's mask abruptly back in place to pretend the Weasley in front of him didn't exist. Harry let him do it, shooting him a curious look and trying to ignore Ron's alarmingly tomato-like expression.
"No we're not done—I want answers!"
Harry was yet again taken off guard by the hand the clamped around his wrist as he tried to let Draco lead him away, and jolted out from both of their touches automatically. Something about it sent every wire in his body on edge and he was surprised at his own reaction time in how fast his wand appeared in his hand and was jammed less than an inch into Ron's face.
"I don't know any magic yet but that will not stop me from jamming this up your nose if you touch me again without permission." He snapped, far less graceful than Blaise had been, but his felt cornered and he didn't like it. "Also, it's Monroe to you Weasley—not Harry, not Potter, not your friend or anything similar. Now get back."
Be it the wand in his face or the glare he was being pinned down with, Ron took two steps back quickly.
He huffed, annoyed. "Thank you. Now get lost."
He turned on his heel and walked the direction Draco had been leading him—Draco himself startled by the sudden 180s that had been happening and quickly following him. He felt the others aside from Ron follow, as well as many eyes on him, but he didn't look back to meet any of their gazes.
He felt cornered and riled and he didn't know why being grabbed like that set him off but it did.
He tried to shake it off but was failing visibly, since Draco very carefully didn't touch him but pointed at the now-open classroom door to stop Harry from storming right past it in his ire. Harry took the lead in entering and everyone followed suit, surprisingly silently.
He let Draco pick the desk (front and center, predictably) and sat down, still trying to calm down and not getting very far.
"You alright Harry?" He glanced up and Seamus was looking at him in concern from where the Gryffindors were settling in on the other side.
He managed to smile a bit; Seamus really was a good guy.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that."
"Nah, no worries. Jus' let us know." He waved it off, Dean nodding from beside him as they went to take their seats, and Harry took a breath.
A presence beside him had him looking up, realizing Blaise was looking down at him with an unreadable expression, bag still on his shoulder and not taking his self-appointed seat behind them.
"…what." He frowned, and the tall Slytherin just lifted a single brow, considering him.
Then:
"…Longbottom, you have a partner?" He said it while still looking down at Harry, but he heard Neville squeak a bit behind them, clearly having followed them silently.
"W-what!?"
"Partner with me, Longbottom." He rolled his eyes impatiently, breaking off his look at Harry to meet the shy Gryffindor's panicked look.
"…s-sure." He squeaked barely managing to meet his gaze before jumping slightly and glancing at the last Slytherin.
Harry realized too that Nott was already sitting at the table behind them, the seat next to him presumably where Blaise would've sat since they'd been assumed to partner up. Blaise looked at him and his pale blue eyes looked back, neither of them making much of an expression but something passing between them.
With a sigh Nott collected his bag and walked off, and Blaise looked at Neville expectantly, who jumped and sat down in Nott's vacated seat quickly. He looked like he half wanted to say something as Nott walked away, but couldn't quite manage it.
Harry frowned, turning in his seat to stare threateningly at the dark boy behind him.
"What are you playing at?" He demanded. The unspoken you better not be toying with Neville hanging heavy in his tone.
Blaise just rolled his eyes. "I know what I'm doing."
"I…have almost no aptitude for potions though." Neville spoke up, barely above a whisper and looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Blaise sighed, audibly put-upon.
"Thank you for your honestly, but I didn't think you did in the first place. We're not actually going to work together, but I'm going to make sure you don't have to partner with that oaf. Sound nice?"
Neville looked startled for a long moment but then nodded weakly.
Harry was suspicious as hell, but he couldn't exactly do anything about it since it was that moment the doors flew open, and a dungeon bat came swooping into the classroom.