章 17: Chapter 17: The More Things Change
Try as he could, Harry simply couldn't get around the whispers that followed him every time he left the dormitory. If it wasn't for his appearance – which, now with his robes on, only mattered regarding his gloves and earrings – then it was for what happened with Draco on the train.
It could also be regarding his wealth.
Harry was never one to worry about the value of a dollar, or galleon in this case. While Crowley has never spoiled him, it's not like Harry ever indulged himself. He usually had everything he needed back at his home cabin. Whatever he did need he usually brought in the city on credit or with pocket cash. However, his trunk told a different story. While he never gave specification regarding what the trunk could do, apparently someone in Slytherin knew about the model and told everyone else.
Either Hagrid has more money than he lets on - since he wasn't surprised by Harry's purchase - or he just doesn't pay attention to the monetary value of things (1). From what he could infer, his trunk was worth more than most houses.
This apparently unnerved a few people – primarily those in Slytherin – and some kids in the other houses. Notably, however, it infuriated a 1st-year red-head Gryffindor in Harry's double potions class.
What did I do to that Weasley kid to get him so angry up at me?
If anything, Harry was trying to ignore the stares around him to try and concentrate on memorizing the school layout before class started. From what he could gather, there were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. The ghost should have been a problem with him as well – since he never got around to reading up on them – but they seemed to avoid him altogether. He didn't try to figure out why nor did he want to inquire; he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Argus Filch was going to be a problem since the man always seemed to appear from the behind the corners without anyone noticing and also thought the worst of kids.
His cat Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's, was less of a problem. While she patrolled the corridors alone and instantly reported troublemakers to Filch - who'd appear two seconds later somehow – it wasn't hard to get her to ignore Harry. Mainly because Crookshanks managed to show her who was in charge: the guy hasn't been in the school even a week and yet he already seemed to be running it. Ironically, despite the fact that many knew who his owner was at this point – since Crookshanks somehow managed to sneak into the dining hall to be petted by Harry during lunch – no one seemed to get the nerve to do anything to him. Harry wasn't going to inquire, but supposedly it was because Crookshanks kept Mrs. Norris away, which made many people – including the twin redheads – very happy.
On the plus side, getting lost a few times helped Harry get his bearing regarding the place as well as figure out where he would put his markers. He made these things a long time ago as magical stealth cameras, but he could never get around to make them work properly. However, with the magical energies that permeated the castle, he was able to finalize his plans for good locations to set up his network. A few days of sleepless nights should give him more than enough time to at least cover the easily accessible areas of the school.
Speaking of school, Harry seemed to find it mildly amusing. That was expected with some of the classes he was taking.
Studying the stars every Wednesday at midnight bored him since he already knew all the constellations, stars and planetary movements of the planets as many magics required such intricate knowledge (2). The teacher – Professor Aurora Sinistra – caught that on the very first class: rather than look through the telescope with the rest of the first years, Harry spend his first Astronomy class being the teacher aide. Many wanted to complain, but he got them points, so they stayed silent.
Herbology with Professor Sprout three times a week was more enjoyable. The Head of Hufflepuff didn't have any hard feelings regarding Harry: it seemed like that fact that he was on friendly terms with her best student Neville– good for him – made her ease up on him. That was only strengthened then Harry displayed his extensive knowledge regarding Muggle plants and herbs. Strange and magical plants were not Harry forestay no matter how much he read the books so learning something new and working with his hands appealed to him.
History of Magic – the less said about Professor Binns class, the better. Harry was seriously considering setting up some kind of cheating system, but since he already memorized the texts, he instead spend the early morning class times working on his grimoire or drawing up the plans for the schools soon to be improved security system.
Professor Flitwick, a tiny little wizard – due to his goblin heritage, as Harry correctly deduced – was definitely a fun teacher. While his stature was a problem at times, he never seemed to get bogged down by it. Harry also seemed to enjoy the intricacies behind the study, from hand movements and proper pronunciations. They haven't gotten to actual spell work yet – being first week and all – but Harry had a nagging thought that his wand was going to cause issues. He was going to ask Flitwick about it, but after he had caught wind that the Head of Ravenclaw used to be a Dueling Champion – which Harry confirmed by checking his MASSIVE energy reserves – he figured Tiamat wasn't going to be as much of an issue as he thought.
Professor McGonagall's class was again different – mainly because she simply confirmed Harry's earlier assumption: DON'T CROSS HER. He learned that lesson the hard way earlier on in the week.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed – particularly Harry, since he saw it all on the magical micro level - and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. Most Slytherin couldn't get the match to even turn silver. Some managed to at least turn it into a needle made of wood. Draco and his goons couldn't do anything to it at all. McGonagall was about to give up on most of the Slytherin before she got to Harry, who was calmly sitting and writing in his notebook.
With a dozen or so needles in front of him.
"MacLeod."
Harry looked up from his notes at the surprised Headmaster of Gryffindor, "Yes, Professor McGonagall?"
"Did you transform all these matches into needles without using your wand?"
"No Professor. I put her away after doing it a few times to take down notes regarding how to do it properly as well as the energy requirements for it."
The professor looked in confusion – as did a few other students nearby. "Her? You named your wand?"
"Mr. Ollivander said that there was nothing against naming a wand. Was he incorrect?"
"No, it's just… somewhat odd. Any particular reasons you are taking down extra notes when you have already clearly mastered this simple spell?"
Harry shrugged, "Not really – I only learned how to perform its basic movement and do it verbally. Now it's down to understanding its particular casting intricacies that apply to me as well as eventually casting it nonverbally. The energy requirement is just so that I know how much and to what degree I can cast the spell before I tire."
The professor gave Harry a rare smile, "Ten points for Slytherin, Mr. MacLeod, for your due diligence as well as excellent spell work."
Oh, she is going to be a fun one.
Again, like with Professor Sprout's class, some wanted to outright kill Harry - although that could just be Draco - but the house points were definitely a deterrent.
The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather. For another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins – the red heads, as Harry finally learned - insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.
Basically, Harry was annoyed by the total lack of correct knowledge as well as the bad energy waves he gave off. Unless Wizard World vampires and zombies were different from the ones he faced in America, he definitely felt that DADA class was going to be a bore for him – at least on the knowledge side of things. He felt like correcting the professor at times, but he figured to stay in his good graces for now. Besides, the spells could still be useful.
Even Hagrid seemed to fancy Harry on some level. A day back during breakfast, a large owl landed in front of him during mail time. While she fed on the bacon Harry gave her, he quickly read the untidy scrawl of the friendly giant, who wanted to inquire if Harry could go for a spot of tea at his earliest convenience. He quickly replied that he would see him soon and sent the owl off.
Frankly, the week was going as well as Harry expected.
He just didn't expect the week to end as it did in Potions class.
Harry snapped back mentally into class when Professor Snape entered the room and started doing roll call. He gave Harry an odd look when he spotted him sitting next to Neville.
Double Potions was a shared class with Gryffindor and Slytherin. Almost everyone split off into pairs with their own house, but Harry – being only familiar with Neville and could give a rats ass regarding student behavior – instantly went to sit with his friend. Thankfully, Longbottom wasn't against it. Although, their height difference did make it uncomfortable for Neville to look up at him.
Okay, I know I am large for an eleven-year-old but seriously, do they not feed their wizard kids or something?
Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle glared at Harry's head from the back of the room – Harry didn't bother inquiring why. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Say what you will about the man, but at least his ego isn't running the show - he can probably back up the claims. Although, if you could brew glory and fame, wouldn't you use it one yourself to teach somewhere nicer? Should check up on those potions later…
"MacLeod!" said Snape suddenly, "is there a particular reason you are using a Muggle writing utensil and paper?"
While the whole class was paying attention to Harry, he honestly saw no issue writing with a pen and a notebook – nor did any other teacher. "Well sir, the school rules only stipulate that assignments and anything given to teachers and staff has to be done in quill and parchment. There is no actual regulation regarding how a student takes his or her class notes. Since no other teacher raised the issue, I assumed that I am correct in that regard?"
Snape gave him a judging glare, "I will inquire the other staff members regarding this. In any case… What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Thank god I read the textbook.
"Draught of Living Death, sir," Harry fired back with no hesitation. The silence in the class was palpable. Even Snape blinked, but slowly smiled.
"Where would I find a bezoar?"
"Inside the stomach of a goat."
"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"Nothing sir, they are the same plant. Muggle botanists call it aconite."
Snape was definitely starting to get puzzled, but he wasn't showing anger at Harry – if anything, it was curiosity.
"What is the most popular use of armadillo bile?"
"That would be the Wit-Sharpening Potion."
That's a fourth-year potion. What's the professor doing? If I haven't read the book…
"Frozen ashwinder eggs?"
"Love potions, professor."
"Powdered moonstone and syrup of hellebore. What potion uses both ingredients?"
"That would be the Draught of Peace, sir."
That was fifth year – what is he up to?
The fact that he knew the answers must be driving the man mad. However, Snape seemed not be even a little unnerved. In fact, only everyone in class – except for Neville, who was smiling and taking notes – appeared to be gawking at Harry's knowledge.
"Pomegranate juice?"
"Strengthening solution, sir."
"When must fluxweed be gathered to be useful for potion making?"
"During the full moon, sir."
The class had gone utterly silent, save for the scratch-scratch of Neville's quill as he quickly scribbled notes. Snape was downright giving Harry an evil smile.
"What are the uses of ginger root?"
"It's used in the Wit-Sharpening Potion. Oh, and it's good in many cuisines, primarily in Asia."
The professor gave Harry a surprised look while the class was downright petrified at Harry's response. "You cook MacLeod?"
"I prefer to bake, sir."
Snape looked around the classroom. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down like Mr. Longbottom?"
As the class tried to remember all that was spoken and scribble it down, Snape looked at Harry's hands, "Is that why you were gloves?"
OH CRAP!
Harry actually flustered at that. "No, sir. That is for a personal reason."
Snape paused, looking at Harry for what felt like minutes. "It's difficult for you to use a quill with them on, isn't it?"
Don't deny it. "Yes, sir."
Snape nodded yet again. "Under such circumstances, I would assume that you were cheating somehow, probably with a memory potion or secret codes through some sort of piece of clothing. However, if rumors about your earlier class performances are any indication, you are as intelligent as you appear. How did you know all that?"
"You can thank Hagrid for that. I met with him during my excursion into Diagon Alley. He mentioned a rule to an annoyed bookstore owner that no student is forbidden from buying advanced texts to self-study from. I had a lot of time on my hands before class started so…:"
Snape smile faltered slightly. "At least he is useful for something. In any case, thirty points for Slytherin for your answers," Snape gave a look at Neville, who was paralyzed from the focus the professor gave him. "Also… five points to Gryffindor for Neville being the only one to write down our banter." (3)
That finally made Neville ease his tension. Things only improved from there. Snape put all the pairs in class into mixing a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Harry, Neville, and Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.
Until Harry interfered.
Hey, I did promise Malfoy I would be coming for him.
Snape was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Something was occurring in Malfoy's cauldron, something that started to melt it into a twisted blob, seeping the potion across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes and running the table legs. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Malfoy, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"You fool!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "You left the potion on too long under high flames, didn't you?"
Malfoy tried to say something but boils started to pop up all over his nose.
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. As he walked forward toward the front of the class, he ordered everyone to get back to work.
Oh well, his good mood is gone, but it was worth screwing Malfoy. Guess pewter is easy to heat up with pyrokinesis.
As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry smiled at Neville's cheerfulness. Apparently, it was a known fact that Snape had a disdain for anyone from Gryffindor. Yet, Neville managed to earn points!
"Just think, it could have been me in the hospital wing right now if you didn't stop me."
"The instructions did say to add the porcupine quills at that point. It's just that unless you read ahead, you wouldn't know that you had to take the cauldron off the fire first."
"How come he didn't tell you then?"
Harry smiled smugly, "Because he said that to people when they were getting to that part – we were way ahead by that point."
"Oh. I wondered why we finished so early."
"Hey, it cheered the man up when he saw how good it was so can't complain. Besides, Malfoy was the one who got distracted by all the hubris."
At that mention, Neville gave Harry a judging look. "What?"
"Did you do something to him?"
"Whatever do you mean Neville?"
Before Neville could inquire further, a familiar bushy hair girl ran down the stairs to meet them. "Is true?"
Harry looked at Hermione, "Is what true?"
"That Malfoy is in the hospital wing after flubbing up a simple boils potion?"
"He is, but I suspect that someone had their involvement in that part." Neville was looking directly at Harry at this point.
Harry just raised his hands up in defense, "Hey, innocent until proven guilty. Besides, I was right next to you the whole time."
"Doesn't mean you weren't involved somehow."
"Whatever. Hey Hermione, you busy?"
Hermione thought about it, "No, my last class just ended. I was going to go to the dorm to study. Why do you ask?"
"I have a standing invite with Hagrid later today. You guys want to come along and meet the man? He is really friendly."
At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.
When Harry knocked, they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang, back."
Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.
"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."
He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.
"Make yourselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Neville and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.
"This is Neville and Hermione, Hagrid. They are my friends" Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.
"Neville… You wouldn't happen to be Frank and Alice kid?"
Neville looked up from Fang to look at the giant, "You knew my parent's, sir?"
Hagrid nodded, "Indeed. They were wonderful children. Studius to a fault and committed to their house. They met each other early on and married soon after they graduated but before they became Aurors. I am sorry for what happened to them."
Neville solely nodded while Hermione and Harry watched from the couch. "I visit them whenever I can. They don't always recognize me, but Mom gives me chewing gum wrappers, and Dad sometimes remembers me when I show him his wand." Neville said the last part as he took out his wand.
Hermione jumped at this, "Wait, why are you using your father's wand? Aren't wizards support to buy their own personal wands?"
"Definitely, Mr. Longbottom," said Hagrid as he dipped a cake into his cup of tea, "I may no longer have my own wand, but I still recall that an individual won't get the same results for spells with another wand compared to their own personal one. You have more than enough in your family vaults to get dozens of wands from what I heard."
Neville sighed, "I wanted to, but Grandma Augusta wanted me to use my fathers…"
Oh no, I know enough tropes to see where the old Longbottom is going with this. Better stop before MORE damage is inflicted…
"Next time you meet her, tell her you aren't your father."
Neville – along with Hermione and Hagrid – looked at Harry in surprise.
"I may not know you nor your grandmother well enough, but I know that forcing someone to live up and match someone else's expectations never ends well. I've known you for a week, and I can already tell you that you are different from your father based on the records about him. Sure, you have the same looks, and maybe you will grow up to be like him, but not exactly him. If anything, the pressure from your family to be like your father is probably what prevented you from activating your magic until late in life."
Neville stared at Harry in disbelief, but he went on, "Look, Neville, I am not saying to not live up to your father's image. I am only saying that you should make a name for yourself. The hat clearly placed your in Gryffindor because there's real bravery and loyalty behind that insecure and chubby exterior. Plus, unlike your father, you are a genius at Herbology based on what I heard from Professor Sprout – just like your mother. Play to your strengths. And seriously, get a new wand – I can tell from here your father's wand favors someone with transfiguration talents. You probably need something with cherry and unicorn hair."
Hermione looked at Harry studiously, "And when did you become an expert in psychology and wand lore?"
Harry took a sip of his eat, "Mr. Ollivander got me interested after I got my wand and as for psychology… After you managed to work with two adults who are stuck mentally as kids, one who is a genius and another who is skilled with weapons, little kids aren't a problem."
"Where did you meet such people?"
"They are brothers who cross my family's line of work from time to time."
"You're doing it again, Harry," interjected Hermione. "You are being all mysterious."
Harry smiled, "It's part of my charm, deal with it. Now, I believe it was Hagrid who invited us to talk about our first week?"
Hagrid shook his head in amusement, "This is what you get when you mix a Ravenclaw, a Gryffindor, and a Slytherin together…."
The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Hermione and Neville pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes while Harry ate the cakes (4). Despite the looks his friends were giving him in regards to his monstrous jaw strength, all he told them was that they were only a little stale.
Harry and Neville were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."
"And as for that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like to introduce her to Fang sometime. Do you know, every time I go up to the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her — Filch puts her up to it."
Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson, which both didn't and did surprise the giant – as confusing as it is.
"Rare to see him show favoritism to someone from Gryffindor – he hardly likes any of his students. The Malfoy boy, though… if he is anything like his father, he has it coming. You sure you didn't have anything to do with it, Harry?"
Harry tried to change the subject any way he could when he remembered about the break-in.
"Hagrid," said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened the same day you were there. Did it have anything to do with the task you were carrying out for the Headmaster?"
There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry recalled the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid did visit vault seven hundred and thirteen, but Harry never inquired about what he took out – wasn't any of his business.
If my intuition is still any good, I would guess that it had something to do with the room on the third floor.
As Harry and the gang walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid.
Better leave that particular stone unturned for now Harry. Focus on setting up the surveillance system around the school.
Dumbledore watched everyone review the work for their first week of classes. Everyone was currently sitting around a grand table in the staff room, minus Finch, who was going the halls for any trouble makers.
"So, are there any issues to discuss before we go to bed?"
"The Hospital Wing is stocked and ready for the year," replied Poppy Pomfrey
"The Forest is cleared out for dangerous near the school, and the borders are monitored, Headmaster," spoke Hagrid gloomily.
Dumbledore nodded and looked at the rest of the teachers, "McGonagall, Quirrell, Flitwick, Sinistra, Vector, Babbling, Sprout, Trelawney, Kettleburn, anything to add?"
Only Sprout raised her hand, "Did the Ministry approve my plans for a larger greenhouse?"
"I am afraid not, Pomona. I am afraid the Ministry has no favoritism for the study of plants. Anything to add, Professor Hooch?"
"We should really find some money in the budget to upgrade the brooms for the House Teams. I am seriously worried that the Slytherins are abusing their family money in their pursuit for new gear."
"Afraid not, Rolanda. If I show favoritism to the other House, Slytherin parents will scream bloody murder. I'll see if there is a loophole somewhere, but unless the other teams have a rich teammate or friends, there is nothing I can do about it (5)." Dumbledore finally looked at Snape sitting at the end of the table, "Anything to add Severus?"
"Nothing to add, Headmaster."
Albus leaned forward, "Not even about what happened to Mr. Malfoy? His father had already caught wind of it."
Snape sat still as a statue, "The boy messed up and didn't follow instructions. If he bothered to read ahead and review them, I wouldn't need to coddle and stroke his ego every few minutes to appease his father. At least Longbottom and MacLeod managed to lift my mood by finishing early and assisting me in the cleanup afterward."
This caught the Headmaster's attention, "A Gryffindor and a Slytherin together? How did that occur?"
"They are friends, Dumbledore. Them and the Granger girl from Ravenclaw."
Professor McGonagall looked at the groundskeeper, "Granger? You mean Hermione Granger? She is a brilliant girl – not as talented as MacLeod, but she was Muggle-born and just exposed to magic. With her intelligence, she will outpace him soon enough."
Flitwick turned from his seat, "How is a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw such close friends?"
Sprout chimed in, "It had something to do with what happened on the train. From what I can gather from my Hufflepuffs, Draco tried to become 'friends' with MacLeod. In the process, however, he insulted Miss Granger. Needless to say, Harry was not pleased."
Albus suddenly remembered the event as he turned to Snape, "Didn't he swear a vendetta on Draco and his goons?"
Snape shook his head, "I watched him, Headmaster. In no way did Harry interfere with the potion Draco was preparing – the fool simply left his fire on too long."
Albus leaned back smiling, "It's rare to see you defend a student – a Slytherin hated by his own house, none the less."
"I can relate."
The comment flew by many, but Albus heard the history and meaning behind the statement.
"Besides, I had a feeling and tested the boy in his knowledge. He is much, much further ahead than his classmates in regards to book knowledge."
McGonagall added her two cents, "Don't forget his magic work as well. I saw the end result of him turning a dozen matches into perfect silver needles. He spend the rest of the class going over his work and making notes to himself about its intricacies and energy requirements."
"Did he use a pen and paper in your class as well?" asked Flitwick.
"I saw nothing wrong with it – he gives in his assignment on parchment in quill. He even puts inch markers on the side for convenience."
Sinistra giggled on the side, "Studious to a fault, that kid. How is he not in Ravenclaw?"
Dumbledore thought about it, "The Sorting Hap has been quite regarding his request to meet with the boy later on, but I can only assume that he has more Slytherin in him then Ravenclaw."
"Speaking of the cap," Professor Vector inquired, "his message to MacLeod is something to look into. 'Distance yourself from your past'… that's not something you hear about a child."
"Probably something to do with his family. He is mentally older than the other students – even helped Neville deal with his insecurity issues."
Albus turned to his longtime friend, "How so?"
"I invited Harry for a spot of tea earlier today, but he brought along Hermione and Neville with him – said they were his friends. We got to talking, and Neville mentioned his parents and that he uses his father's wand. Took Harry less than a minute to give him a stir talking to stand up to his Grandmother, stop trying to live in his father's shadow, and get his own wand."
Albus sighed in frustration, "I shall have words with Augusta. I warned her many times not to try to raise him as she did her son."
"How are you on such good terms with MacLeod anyway, Rubeus? Harry mentioned something about a bookstore…"
"Oh, we met up on our way to Diagon Alley back in July. Spend the whole day shopping with him. Boys richer than most families – spend the whole day buying books from the stores there."
Sinistra jumped in, "Is that how he got a golden telescope?"
"Yes. He also wanted golden pots, but the list did say pewter. Got himself a high-end magic trunk as well."
Albus leaned back into his chair, "Clearly, there is more to the boy than meets the eye."
Snape nodded, "If his gloves and scar are any indications, it's not something he wishes to discuss in the open."
"It's probably fear of being judged unfairly," Hagrid mumbled absent-mindedly.
Albus didn't miss that slip of the tongue, "What do you mean, Hagrid?"
Hagrid panicked as everyone to look at the giant for his response, "Well… It's not my place to say but… He seems to be trying to hold back the best he can… to seem normal as it were."
"Normal? He knew the material for my class that is on the fifth year syllabus."
"Not like that Severus. I mean… it's like he wants to distance himself from something and be known for his own personality and merits. It's probably why he became friends with Hermione and Neville. She treated him as a normal person, and Neville likes him for… his views I guess." (6)
Albus knew a dangling hook when saw one, "You're holding something back. We won't judge him Hagrid – just tell us."
Hagrid tried to fiddle with his thumbs until they forgot, but they didn't relent. "I think it has something to do with his magic, sir."
"How so?"
"If his wand is any indication, he has a lot of power – more than I can currently estimate."
"What does his wand have to do with it?"
"You will have to inquire Mr. Ollivander for the details – it was beyond me sir."
Albus nodded, "Fine, we will leave that topic alone for now. For now, everyone, try to keep a close eye on Harry and his gang. A trio each from a different house is bound to raise some issues. Everyone is dismissed."
As everyone was leaving and Dumbledore wished them all a good night, he turned to the window to stare at the moon in the sky.
Seems like MacLeod becoming friends with Neville was a stroke of luck on my part. Already, he is improving the boy for the better. Seems like the prophecy is making it presence felt. The Granger girl, however… something may need to be done about that in the future.
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