章節 253: HPMM63-75
Chapter 063
Harry noticed that everyone else was still asleep. Dean Thomas, a dark-haired, dark-skinned boy almost as tall as Harry slept like a rock, occasionally mumbling something incoherent under his breath. Harry thought the boy was talking about football, but couldn't be sure. Semus Finnigan, a boy of Irish descent with pale skin and sandy-colored hair lay on his back, his arms spread out and his mouth hanging wide open. And Neville Longbottom, the round faced boy, was curled up in a ball laying on his side.
Since no one was awake to see him, Harry waved his hand towards the trunk sitting in front of his bed. He smiled when the small charm he had placed upon his trunk spoke the password in a hushed tone. It was a very basic charm, one he had discovered during the summer when he looked up basic household charms. He had set up the
speaking charm specifically for this instance, since he suspected—quite correctly—that he would be up long before any of his roommates were.
The trunk unlocked with a soft 'click' and another wave of his hand caused the small, rotating circular lock with the numbers one through four to move until it reached number two.
The trunk opened up as Harry directed more magic at it. One of his three sets of school robes and a large towel flew out to land in his outstretched hands.
After closing and locking the trunk, Harry made his way to the communal showers where he enjoyed a nice long soak under hot sprays of water. He came out nearly half an hour later dressed in his clothes with the towel laying over his still wet hair.
Not long after arriving back in his bedroom, Harry found himself sitting down on the couch in the common room reading Hogwarts, A History. It was a very interesting
book, and he was nearly half-way finished with it, having read quite a bit of the book over the summer. Harry hoped to finish it before the end of the week.
As he continued flipping through the pages the sound of the door leading to one of the dormitories opening had his ears perking up.
He turned just in time to see Fred and George Weasley walking into the common room. Unlike everyone else who couldn't tell them apart, Harry knew exactly which was which. The one coming up to him on the left, Fred, had two extra freckles on his nose, and the other one, George, had a very small, almost unnoticeable scar on the left side of his cheek.
"Fred, George," Harry greeted the two with a small nod. The two twins grinned at him as they hopped over the couch and sat on either side of him.
"Good morning, Harry," George greeted with a large smile.
"And what a wonderful morning it is," Fred added. "Indeed, the day is young."
"The sun is shining."
"And the weather is mild."
"Which begs the question of just why you are reading on this fine morning when you could be doing something more productive?"
"Much more productive."
Harry, who was keeping his ears on the conversation as it bounced between one twin to another, gave them a raised eyebrow to show his amusement. While he had not paid any particular attention to the pair last night during the sorting, he had seen them and listened to their conversation just like he had with everybody else at his table. That, plus his earlier observations during their meeting on the Hogwarts Express let him know these two
were trouble makers. It was very likely they were the 'Marauders' of this era.
"And just what could I be doing so early in the morning? Breakfast isn't until eight."
"True, very true," Fred said with nod.
George began rubbing his chin in mock contemplation. "Well, you could always think up new and inventive ways to cause mischief."
"I must concur with my dear brother," Fred added helpfully. "Why would you want to... read." He mock shuddered. "When you could think up more and more ways to spread chaos and joy to the school?"
At those words, Harry's lips quirked up in a small, half- smile. "Aside from the fact that I don't think chaos and joy should ever be used in the same sentence again, perhaps I am just the kind of person who enjoys reading a good book in the morning instead of finding ways to get myself
in trouble."
The twins gasped in mock horror.
"You hear that, Gred? He doesn't enjoy pulling pranks."
"I heard, Forge. It's shameful how these young-ins are getting more and more boring over the years."
Harry rolled his eyes, before his attention turned toward the rest of the common room. During the time he and the two Weasley's had been talking, many other Gryffindor students had been making their way down the stairs. Already he spotted many older students as they walked out of the room, most likely going to the Great Hall, and three first years: Fay Dunbar, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom.
"Well, I do apologize for being such a bore," Harry spoke to Fred and George as he closed his book shut with a snap, shrunk it with a tap of his wand, then stood up. "I'll see what I can do about becoming more exciting in the
future. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going."
"See yah, Harry," George said with a jaunty wave as he and his brother stood up.
"Don't be a stranger now!" added the other.
Harry shook his head at their antics, but waved all the same, before making his way over to Neville Longbottom.
"Good morning, Neville," Harry greeted with a smile. The other boy nearly jumped out of his skin when Harry spoke, and quickly whirled around to see the raven-haired youth next to him.
"Oh, Harry," Neville breathed, looking like he had just received the scare of his life. "Good morning. Did you... did you sleep well?"
"I slept quite well, thank you. And you?" asked Harry cordially.
"Oh... yeah, erm, I slept alright," Neville mumbled, and Harry almost sighed at the unenthusiastic response. Looking at him, one would never suspect this boy belonged to the house of lions. Everything from his posture to his subdued way of speaking denoted to someone lacking the necessary self-assuredness to do well in the house Godric Gryffindor had created. Neville Longbottom, Harry had determined, was a very skittish and easily frightened boy with a complete lack of self- confidence.
He was also the reason Harry decided to go into Gryffindor. As the heir to the Longbottom name and fortune, Neville would eventually inherent the title Lord of Longbottom and a seat on the Wizengamot. More to the point, his family was one of the Founding Five, which made allying himself with this boy even more imperative. Having Neville on his side after they graduate from Hogwarts would definitely be a boon politically, if nothing else.
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 064
Thus the reason Harry had decided to Sort himself into Gryffindor. Right now, Neville was an easily frightened child with no confidence. Certainly, he acted nothing like the heir to one of the Founding Five families should. Harry planned on fixing that by taking Neville under his wing and bolstering the boy's flagging self-esteem. This would ingratiate the Longbottom heir to him, thereby giving him a powerful ally once he reached his Age of Majority.
Sure, it was a little underhanded, using the boy's lack of confidence for his own gains. But Harry justified himself with the fact that he was also helping the Longbottom heir quite a bit. Not only would Neville gain Harry as a powerful ally, he would also help Neville become the kind of man other people could look up to and admire. More to the point, Neville would be able to have confidence in himself, something that Harry felt was imperative for anybody to
have.
After all, if you couldn't be confident in yourself, who would be willing to have confidence in you?
XoX
During his 11-years of life, Harry had placed people into three categories. These categories, or archetypes, as it were, were not conducive to everyone, but for the most part, Harry felt that most human beings fell under one of these three categories: Sheep, Shepherds and Wolves.
The sheep were what made up the majority of the populace. They were the people who had no real sense of self beyond their unique personality. These were the people who 'followed the heard' as it were. They did things because everyone else was doing them; they followed those who had a better vision of the future than themselves—or simply had more power—and they typically followed the whims of the crowd. Generally speaking, aside from how the vast majority of people were
sheep, they were fairly useless to his overall goals.
Shepherds were a just as obvious branch of people. These were the people who had vision. They were revolutionaries of their times, leaders in every sense of the word. Those who Harry had dubbed shepherds were the kind of people the sheep followed. Harry liked to think himself a shepherd—or at least a shepherd-in-training. Sort of like being a Padawan learner.
Like shepherds, the wolves were a just as obvious euphemism. Wolves were predators, stalking their prey and pouncing when least expected. They were one of the apex predators, an animal well-known for both their cunning and viciousness.
Much like the wolves of the animal kingdom, human wolves acted very similar in execution. They preyed upon the sheep, devouring them in a not-so-literal way until they had what they wanted, which sometimes led to death and sometimes didn't, though occasionally death may be preferable. So far, the only people who Harry would have
considered wolves in recent years was Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
Of course, not everyone fell under these three categories. Lisa, for instance, was certainly no sheep, yet not quite a shepherd either. And she was far too nice to be a wolf. She was one of those people he could not place into a specific category, though that may have to do with her meaning too much for him to place into a stereotype. Perhaps the most accurate way to describe her would be a partner, someone he thought of as an equal, someone who could be a Shepard, but had no desire to take on the roll.
Hopefully, Neville would eventually become like Lisa in time. If he wanted to succeed in any plans he might make, he needed more than just sheep who blindly followed orders.
"Do you see him?"
"The one next to the pudgy kid?"
"It's Harry Potter!"
"The boy-who-lived!"
"I can't believe he's actually going to Hogwarts!" "Oh, he's so adorable!"
Harry Potter listened to the students he passed in the hall and watched them gawk at him like he was some kind of circus animal. He made sure to memorize each and everyone person who did and put them under the 'sheep' category, which just so happened to include pretty much everyone he passed that morning.
Really, Harry noted with some ironic form of amusement, the people in the wizarding world acted exactly like those in the muggle world. He wondered what those blood purists would think if they knew that?
They'd probably throw a fit.
"Something on your mind, Neville?" Harry asked quite suddenly. The much shorter boy walking next to him looked up from where he'd previously been staring at the ground, his face scrunched up in thought.
"It's... it's nothing," Neville mumbled, ducking his head back down to stare at the large, granite tiles on the floor.
"Neville," Harry admonished with a slightly chiding voice. "If you have a question, please don't hesitate to ask. Asking questions is a fundamental key to gaining knowledge. If you don't ask questions, you'll never learn anything worth while."
Neville looked back up at Harry in surprise. Harry just smiled in return.
"So what did you want to ask me?"
"It's just..." Neville's eyes darted around the hall, and Harry realized the boy was looking at the dozens upon dozens
of people they passed, all of whom stared at Harry like he was the second coming of Merlin. "How do you do it?"
"Ignore the stares, you mean?" Harry asked for clarification. When Neville nodded, he took a moment to think before responding. "I don't; I just don't let it bother me."
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 065
Now that he'd gotten over the initial shock of his fame, he simply found the reactions too amusing to be bothered by them. There was just something funny about watching people make utter fools of themselves. It was kind of a twisted way of seeing things, but he couldn't help it.
"I don't think I could do that," Neville mumbled quietly.
"I think you could," Harry countered, once more getting a shocked stare from the boy next to him. He smiled and looked straight ahead to see they were nearing the Great Hall. "Remember this, Neville, the only thing you ever need to worry about is how you perceive yourself. So long as you are comfortable with who you are, then you need not be bothered by how other people perceive you to be."
Neville didn't say anything as they swept into the Great Hall, but if Harry were to judge by the look on the boy's face, he would have to say that his words had at least taken root in Neville's mind. Now, so long as he took Harry's words to heart, he would eventually become more confident in himself.
Of course, a little subtle reinforcement every now and again never hurt anyone.
As they entered the Great Hall, everyone inside stopped what they were doing and stared. Girls quit chattering about whatever it was the fairer sex chattered about; boys stopped talking about sports and ceased their good-
natured ribbing of each other. All eyes turned to Harry and Neville.
They must have made an odd sight, the tall, athletic boy and the short boy with the round face and skittish nature. Thankfully, Neville didn't seem to be paying anymore attention to the stares, busy as he was going over Harry's advice.
Harry kept his head high and his back and shoulders straight as he walked forward with the confidence of a person completely at ease in his own skin.
Wanting to be seen as a little more approachable, he nodded in greeting to a few of the people he passed, regardless of whether they were in his House or not. This eliciting hushed whispers from many of the boy's, and excited and shy giggling from the girls. He wondered about that, but shrugged the thought off as inconsequential.
Soon he and Neville were sitting at the far corner of the
Gryffindor table, and conversation picked up again, this time about him instead of whatever these people were talking about before.
Harry sat on the window side of the table, allowing him a full glimpse of the other three tables so he could observe the other students. He piled food onto his plate, mostly eggs and fruits (the healthiest food he could find there), as the jumbled noise from a hundred different voices filtered through his ears. Beside him, Neville was silently putting food on his own plate, contemplative expression still in place.
As conversations continued, Harry's eyes strayed toward the door leading to the entrance hall as more and more students poured through. From those doors his eyes caught a glimpse of red hair, and he watched as Ronald Weasley slumped into the Great Hall wearing the yellow and black colors of his house, and sat down at the Hufflepuff table.
To Harry, the boy looked disappointed, which was to be
expected. The Weasley family were one of those families who were always sorted into a specific house without fail. For nearly two generations every single Weasley who entered Hogwarts had been a Gryffindor—until now.
Harry wondered why Ron had been sorted into Hufflepuff. He would admit to not knowing the boy very well, but the ginger-haired boy didn't seem very hard working. Perhaps that meant he was very loyal? Or maybe it was a form of reverse psychology. Had the sorting hat placed Ron in Hufflepuff because he wasn't very hard working or loyal in an effort to make the boy understand the value of those traits?
Possible, plausible even, though Harry suspected another reason might have been due to their confrontation on the train. Perhaps it wasn't comfortable with them in the same house? He supposed it didn't matter one way or the other.
A few minutes after Ron entered the room, Harry saw Hannah and Susan walk into the Great Hall. Both had donned their school robes, which were the same House
colors as Ron's. Harry stood up, drawing much attention to himself, but he ignored that and began making his way towards the two Hufflepuffs.
It was time to begin the first phase of one the plans he had concocted recently. It was a small step, but sometimes you had to crawl before you could walk, and walk before you could run. This instance was no different.
"Morning Hannah, Susan," Harry greeted the pair with a congenial smile.
"Harry!" Hannah exclaimed in pleasant surprise ,while Susan's cheeks gained a light red tint. The blond, pig- tailed girl quickly regained her wits, whilst her friend shuffled a little. "Good morning."
"I trust you both slept well?" Harry said inquiringly. Hannah gave him a slight giggle.
"Yes!"
Harry smiled at Hannah's answer, then turned to look at Susan. The redhead noticed this, and her cheeks turned a shade of red that nearly matched her hair. ______________________________________________ ___________
Chapter 066
"I did as well," she answered in a soft voice, her eyes going from his to the floor, then back to his. "And you? Did you sleep okay?"
"Like a rock," Harry said with a charming smile. Susan looked down at her toes.
"Anyway," Harry continued after a few seconds, "I was wondering if you two would like to have breakfast with me?"
"Breakfast? With you?" Hannah's mouth worked just enough to get that much out. Susan seemed even worse
off, her eyes having widened to the size of galleons.
"Am I really so awful that you wouldn't want to have breakfast with me?" asked Harry, affecting a hurt expression. Both Hannah and Susan looked at him in shock.
"Of course not," Hannah hastened to assure him that she did not find his company unpleasurable. "It's just—I mean —are we even allowed to sit with you. I mean, you're a Gryffindor and we're Hufflepuff. I mean, aren't we supposed to sit at our own table?"
"It's generally expected that you sit at your own table," Harry explained patiently. "But not necessary. There are no rules that state you must sit with your house, or that you can't sit with another house." When they continued to look unsure Harry decided to make a bold move, a Gryffindor move. He grabbed the pair by the hand and began leading them to his table. "So, come on. I want the first two friends I made on the train to eat breakfast with me."
Everyone watched Harry once more as he did something that had most likely never been done in Hogwarts for a long time, if ever. If there hadn't already been a smile on his face, there would have been now. Perhaps his example would be followed by those who have friends in another house. He could only hope people would eventually begin following his lead.
"Well, alright," Hannah said with a giggle, her face slightly flushed. Beside her, being silently dragged along, was a red-faced Susan, who couldn't stop staring at her's and Harry's conjoined hands. She was blushing to the roots of her hair. "I guess we could join you for breakfast."
"Great," Harry said as he walked over to a surprised Neville. He let go of Susan and Hannah, allowing them to claim the seats across from him, while he took his original seat next to Neville.
"I believe introductions are in order." Harry cleared his throat. "Hannah, Susan, this is Neville Longbottom.
Neville, this is Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones."
"Erm," Neville stuttered for a moment, but quickly jerked his hand out and held it over the table to Hannah. "Nice to meet you, Hannah."
Hannah smiled as they shook. "Nice to meet you, too."
"Susan," Neville greeted with an unsure nod. There was no hand shake involved, but unlike with Hannah, Neville spoke to Susan with familiarity. "It's good to see you again."
"Good to see you too, Neville," Susan spoke softly, as was her wont. "How is your grandmother?"
"Oh, she's doing well," Neville edged, and Harry sighed. One of the first things he had noticed about the boy was how strained he sounded when he spoke of his 'gran.' Harry had come to the conclusion that the Dowager of Longbottom was at least part of the reason Neville's was so underconfident. "How's your Aunt?"
"Auntie Amelia is fine," Susan said. "Busy, but she seems to enjoy her work."
"That's good."
Harry hummed in the back of his throat as he listened to the two. "I take it you two know each other from somewhere?" he asked curiously.
"Ah, yes," Neville stuttered a bit as he realized he'd been ignoring the Harry Potter. "My gran and Susan's aunt travel in the same social circles." Which Harry took to mean they were in the same political circles. It would make sense, both Longbottoms and Bones were considered 'light neutral' families; families that were light, but didn't necessarily fall in Dumbledore's camp.
Of course, that was before Alice and Frank—who were good friends with Harry's mother and father—had joined Dumbledore in the fight against Voldemort. Despite this, the Longbottoms were still considered politically neutral,
and had become even more so in recent years.
"Makes sense." Harry nodded, then smoothly changed the subject. "So are you excited for our first few classes today?"
"Yes," Hannah said, her face lighting up in an excited smile. "I can't wait to see what we're going to be learning. I'm really looking forward to Charms class."
Harry smiled, and thus the conversation went along this vane. Harry made sure to ask questions to all three of his companions, mainly focusing on school and what they wanted to learn, trying to get a feel for what they would be good in and what they didn't like. He made sure to ask questions in a way that required more than a simple one word answer, and also made sure both Neville and Susan had an equal amount of speaking time as the more talkative Hannah did.
As they spoke—their conversation had turned from Hogwarts to their favorite hobbies—Professor Sprout and
Professor McGanagall walked over to them, both smiling.
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 067
Well, Professor Sprout was smiling. Professor McGonagall looked like she was trying to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.
Pamona Sprout was a very plump woman, with a head of messy gray hair and a kind smile. She looked like the kind of woman who had a nurturing disposition and loved the outdoors.
"Five points to all four of you," Professor Sprout said. "It is good to see students seeking friendship outside of their House."
Hannah beamed at her Head of House, while both Susan and Neville gave the woman shy but happy smiles. Harry offered his own charming smile and nodded his head graciously.
"These are your schedules," Professor McGonagall spoke up, handing both Neville and Harry their schedules while Professor Sprout gave Susan and Hannah theirs. "Have a good day, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom."
As the two Professors walked away, Harry peered at his school schedule. "It looks like we've got Charms first, followed by Transfiguration." He looked at the two Hufflepuffs. "What about you?"
"Potions followed by Transfiguration," Hannah answered, schedule in one hand and a muffin in the other.
Harry smiled. "Looks like we'll be sharing a class together on our first day then."
"Seems so."
After breakfast, Harry and Neville said goodbye to Hannah and Susan, then made their way to the Charms classroom.
While they walked, Harry once again had to marvel at the interior of the castle. There were exactly 142 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 jump over. 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 made getting where you wanted to go very difficult, because sometimes the door or staircase or doorway that led to a certain hallway or room at one point, might not lead to that same hallway or room during another. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.
Eventually, Harry and Neville arrived at the Charms classroom. It looked very much like a lecture hall. Instead
of desks lining the room in rows up front, there were long tables with chairs set on either side of the room, with another set of tables behind those that sat on a slightly raised platform, so students in the back could see over the students in front. At the end of the room, in front of a large, glass window, sat the desk Harry assumed was for the teacher.
Harry and Neville found a spot near front, close to the teacher's desk, and idly conversed while waiting for class to start, during which more and more students arrived. Before long all the tables were filled with excitably chattering first years.
Harry immediately noticed something that bothered him about this class. The Gryffindors shared this class with Ravenclaw, clearly denoted by their differing colors. The Gryffindors all sat on the left side of the room, while the Ravenclaws had taken the right.
This would need to be corrected soon. If all went well, Harry would rectify this instinctual need for house
segregation. After all, he needed more allies than just those in Gryffindor, and the best way to do that was to rid everybody of this instinctive need to befriend only those people from their own house.
Soon after all of the students had filed in, a very short man with short cropped black hair that framed either side of his face, a mustache and slightly pointed ears that vaguely reminded Harry of a goblin's walked in. Perhaps the man had some goblin blood in him.
He wore the robes that denoted him as the Head of the House of Ravenclaw; blue robes with silver trim, a vest and a large pointed hat.
The class simmered down when they realized their teacher was in the room, only to start laughing when the tiny Professor had to use a stack of books and stand on his desk to be seen by everyone. The short man didn't seem bothered by this, however, and merely smiled congenially as he waved his hands for silence.
"It is a pleasure to see you all this morning," the Professor began what looked to be his start of the term speech. "As my Ravens already know, my name is Filius Flitwick, and I will be your Charms Instructor for the duration of your stay here at Hogwarts. I hope we can all get along and have fun while learning one the main subjects we teach here. And please, do not hesitate to ask me any questions you may have. You won't learn anything if you don't ask questions."
Hhis small speech done, the diminutive professor began taking roll. Harry listened to each name as it was called, and observed those students, taking careful note of each one and keeping mental tabs on his observations. When Professor Flitwick got to Harry's name, the man gave an excited squeak and tumbled off his stack of books and out of sight, eliciting much laughter from the students.
Harry did not laugh, but he did smile. He suspected that the professor had done that on purpose to take attention away from him. It was just a hunch, and he had no real proof, but was nevertheless grateful. It was hard to learn
when people were gawking at you.
Now all he had to do was see if this class met his expectations.
After Charms Harry and Neville met up with Hannah and Susan on their way to Transfiguration. After shared greetings the four entered the classroom and, at Harry's insistence, sat down together with Harry in between Susan and Neville, and Hannah taking a seat on Susan's left side. The group of newly formed friends then conversed about how their first classes went.
Many of the other students present stared at them strangely, like they were expecting some kind of scandal to happen any moment. Their wide, disbelieving eyes making it seem as if seeing people from separate houses conversing had never happened before. Harry had the feeling it most likely hadn't—not in this day and age, at least.
He was a bit curious at their shock, though. These
students were all first years like him, so they shouldn't have any of the house biases others did. So why were they acting like the idea of two Hufflepuffs sitting with a pair of Gryffindors was unfathomable?
Maybe it had something to do with their parents. He didn't know, and it probably didn't matter. Harry was sure that, given time, things would change.
"Where do you think our professor is?" asked Hannah as she took a look around. Most of the desks were now filled up with students, all of them chattering excitedly—after the initial shock of seeing students from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sitting together, most of the other students seemed to just accept it and now spoke amongst themselves. Yet she could not find their teacher.
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 068
"Who knows," said Harry, his eyes straying to the cat with the strange rectangular markings around its eyes sitting on the teacher's desk.
"What's with the cat?" asked Neville, having spotted the feline perched on the desk as well. "You reckon she's Professor McGonagall's familiar or something?"
Hannah looked over towards the black tabby cat, then shrugged. "Maybe."
Harry frowned. There was something off about that cat. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about that feline just did not remind him of a cat.
It was probably the stern glare the thing was giving everyone.
About five minutes after the bell rang, signaling a start to the class, Ron Weasley and another boy, Zacharias Smith, a boy with blond hair and brown eyes, rushed into the
room.
"Good, Professor McGonagall's not here yet, so we won't get into any trouble for being late," Ron said, breathing heavily, Zacharias nodding his head in agreement but not speaking.
Just then, the cat that had been sitting on the desk leapt into the air. Harry and the other students watched in awe as the cat began to shift in mid-air, changing from a tabby cat into a person. Arms and legs stretched and expanded, claws became hands, fur became clothes and before long Professor McGonagall was standing in front of the shocked crowd of first years, directing a stern glare towards the two Hufflepuff boys.
"Think again, Mr. Weasley," the strict-looking professor said. "That will be five points from Hufflepuff for the both of you for being tardy. Now sit down before I dock more points."
Ron and Zacharias hurried to their seats, properly cowed
by the stern woman. Harry mused that it probably had something to do with Professor McGonagall's glare. It was very intimidating, as he could attest to.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall soon began, her voice just as stern as her expression. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
Then she waved her wand and the students watched in awe as her desk changed into a large, pot-bellied pig. Even Harry was not immune to feeling impressed by the display of magic. While he could transfigure one object into another, he'd never done such a large-scale transformation, and never transformed an inanimate object into an organic one. He could only imagine how complex that kind of magic was. It was very unlikely they would be getting into anything that complicated for several years at least.
Another wave of her wand and Professor McGonagall
changed the pig back into a desk. She then proved Harry's thoughts on not learning anything very complex correct by setting them up with the task of transfiguring a matchstick into a needle.
Harry didn't do anything at first, choosing instead to glance around at the other students struggling with the task. Neville had a look of utmost concentration, his eyes and nose scrunched up almost painfully as he waved his wand at the matchstick which just did not to change into a needle. Susan and Hannah were likewise not getting anywhere. In fact, the only person who seemed to be making any progress was Hermione Granger, whose match seemed to ripple for a second before going still, unchanged.
It hadn't taken very long for Harry to decide just how well he wanted to do in his classes. Many people were already holding high expectations of him thanks to his title as the Boy-Who-Lived, and while that did bother him some, it also provided him with the perfect excuse to not hold back.
After all, if people were expecting him to be great, he might as well show them just how high he could shoot those expectations out of the water.
Holding his wand in his hand, Harry went back to his matchstick. Almost absently, he waved his wand at it, and watched in satisfaction as it near instantly morphed into a needle. Another wave of his wand had it changing back into a matchstick. It was very easy to do. He'd been doing small time transfigurations like that for two and a half years now.
Deciding to give himself a challenge, Harry began adding extra features to the needle. Sometimes he would make the point longer, other times he would make the head larger. He changed the needles base composition to copper, brass, silver, iron and back to steel. By the time Harry was finished, he had made a needle in Gryffindor colors with a decently complex lion head for the shaft.
"How are you doing that?"
The question had Harry stopping his work and looking over at Hannah. The girl, along with Susan, stared at him in shock and just a hint of envy. Neville, too, seemed to have stopped working and was now eying Harry's needle in undisguised awe.
Harry blinked. His eyes almost widened but he stopped himself. Was this it? His chance to shine? To show his new friends and class what he could do? To prove himself to other magical children and his teachers? How exciting!
He cleared his throat.
"Transfiguration is all about focus and visualization; you can't just wave your wand, say an incantation and expect the matchstick to turn into a needle," Harry began, assuming a very minor note of lecture. "You have to picture it changing in your mind, literally visualize the change happening as you cast the spell." He noticed the three still looked confused, so said, "Try taking the spell in steps."
"Steps?" asked Neville, who had the least amount of success with his transfiguration.
"Yes," Harry said. "Try changing the match into a needle using smaller steps. First off, ask yourself what needs to change? What's different about the matchstick from the needle? You have the thickness, the point and eye of the needle, the shaft, and the material. It doesn't matter which order you make the changes, but when I cast the spell I change the thickness first, then the material, then I'll transform the head of the match into the needles eye and finally the other end into the point. By following it in smaller steps, you don't have to try and focus on the whole item changing at once, and that allows you to get each point right."
It had taken him a long time to work this out; he had first discovered transfiguration when he accidently turned a baseball Duddley had thrown at him into a stirofome toy. He eventually managed to reverse engineer his steps and came up with this method, using small objects like pens,
pencils and footballs as test subjects.
Those poor, poor footballs. They were never the same after that.
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 069
"That is a very impressive display of knowledge and magic, Mr. Potter," a voice came from the front. Harry looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing before him.
Most of the other students stared at him in unmasked amazement. The only one who didn't seem to quite share their sentiment was Hermione, who didn't look pleased.
"Twenty points for Gryffindor, ten for getting the spell right, and another ten for the enlightening and knowledgeable
explanation," Professor McGonagall said, giving him a rare smile.
"Thank you, ma'am," Harry said with a small nod, wondering if he might have gone a bit overboard. When he explained anything, especially anything involving theories he'd come up with through his own hard-earned research, he tended to get... a little too passionate at times.
"And since you can clearly do this, perhaps I should give you a more advanced task," Professor McGonagall began, but Harry interrupted her.
"Actually, I was thinking it might be a good idea if I went around and helped out some of the students who were struggling," Harry suggested. Professor McGonagall looked surprise by his offer, but soon her lips turned into that smile-grimace he was coming to recognize that told him she was proud.
"An excellent idea, Mr. Potter. You may assist your fellow
students for the rest of your time in my class. And take fifteen more points for Gryffindor."
"Thank you, Professor."
And so went the rest of class. Harry helped students who appeared to be having trouble. By the end of the class, he had managed to walk both Hannah and Susan through the steps he'd devised and they had managed to change their matchsticks into needles, though Susan's looked better than Hannah's. Neville had gotten close, and only needed to fix the head, while Seamus' had inexplicably blown up when he tried to transfigure it. Dean changed the matchstick's tip into a point, but not much else. On the other hand, Sally-Ann Perks, a Hufflepuff with light brown hair and eyes, alo turned the match into a needle. The only other person who accomplished that task was Fay Dunbar, who sat beside Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown, two girls who were far too giggly to actually make much headway when Harry tried to help them.
He had even gone out of his way to help Ron a bit, though
the boy seemed leary of him. Not that Harry could blame him—he would be wary, too, if someone who had verbally reemed him was suddenly being so helpful. Still he tried, and that's what mattered to Harry.
The only person Harry had not been able to help was Hermione Granger, who had refused to use his unorthidox methods under the claim that it was not in the book they'd been assigned, and therefore was not the proper way to do transfiguration. Harry assumed the girl's real reason for not wanting his help was jealousy. From what he had seen of Hermione so far, the bushy-haired witch was used to being at the top of her class, and to see someone doing better than her had sparked her competitive streak. It was unlikely she would accept help from him.
In the end, she had only managed to change the matches color and gain a pointed tip, a fact that seemed to humiliate her. By the end of class she looked like she was just a few seconds from crying.
Harry might have felt pity for the girl, but considering it was
her own pride that spurned his help, felt nothing more than exasperation. It wasn't like he could do much anyway. One could only help those who wanted it, and Hermione Granger clearly did not want his help.
When class finally ended, Harry stood up with the rest of his friends, but rather than leave, turned to them and said, "you three go on ahead to lunch without me. I'll meet up with you in a few minutes."
They looked at him for a second, but decided to just go along with it and said goodbye before heading out the door.
With everyone gone, Harry walked up to Professor McGonagall, who looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, actually," Harry said with a polite, inquisitive smile. "I wanted to ask you about your ability to turn into a cat."
It had been on his mind ever since he'd seen it. He knew
what it was, of course; Sirius could change into a dog and Harry had even ridden on his back before he and his parents had gone into hiding. And he knew that his father had the ability to transform into an animal, though he'd never seen it before.
Professor McGonagall's other eyebrow joined its bretheren in being raised. "You mean my animagus ability?"
Harry gave her a nod.
"Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me more bit about it."
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 070
The truth of the matter was he only knew a little bit about
animagus transformations. That being that it was the ability for a human to transform into an animal, and that his dad, Sirius and another of his dad's friends named Peter Pettigrew, had become animagi sometime in their third year.
Harry was interested in learning to become an animgus, not only to honor his dad, but also because of how useful the ability sounded. And to prove himself the best, Harry had every intention of becoming an animgus before this year was over.
Professor McGonagall looked at the boy in surprise before that small, almost imperceptible smile found its way onto her face. "You really are your parents son, Mr. Potter. Your father was quite gifted in transfiguration, much like you seem to be, and you have your mother inquisitiveness."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said with a genuine smile. It was hard not to feel good at being compared to his parents, especially from someone who clearly thought so highly of them.
"Very well," Professor McGonagall said, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give you some information on animagi. What would you like to know?"
"Everything," Harry said almost immediately, before he began firing off all the questions he had with barely contained excitement. "What kind of animal transformations are there? Are they fixed? Or can you transform into any animal in the animal kingdom? Does becoming an animagus offer any benefit to the user beyond the transformation itself? Just how does one become an animagus in the first place? Also—"
"Slow down, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall interrupted his rapid-fire series of questions with the air of someone on the verge of being completely overwhelmed. "I can see you have a lot of questions, more than I initially thought. Tell me, are you interested in becoming an animagus?"
"Of course," Harry said. "Who wouldn't?" At seeing her stern and skeptical look, Harry hastened to add. "Though,
I doubt I could accomplish it right now. It sounds very difficult, but I figured if I could learn everything there is to know about becoming an animagus, I would have a headstart for when I actually begin attempting the process."
Professor McGonagall stared at Harry for a few, long seconds. Seconds which almost felt like hours to Harry. For a moment, he thought he might have overstepped his bounds, but after a few seconds, the stern teacher walked over to a small bookcase and ran her index finger across the spines of the books on it. Her finger stopped at one of them, and she pulled out it of the bookcase, before walking back over to him and holding it out in offering.
He took the book from her and looked down at its front cover. It was titled, A Guide to Discovering Your Inner Animal by Morgana le Fay. His eyes widened when he saw the author.
"This was written by Morgana le Fay," he breathed, turning wide eyes to Professor McGonagall. If he didn't know any
better, he would almost say she was smirking at him. "The Morgana le Fay? The half-sister of King Arthur, infamous Dark Witch and quite possible Merlin's most bitter enemy?"
"You seem surprised," Professor McGonagall said, her smirk now undeniable. "Morgana Le Fay was a student at this school, much like Merlin himself."
"I didn't know," Harry said in shock. While a part of him felt silly for not having come to the conclusion that, if Merlin had been a student at Hogwarts, surely Morgana must have been as well, he still couldn't help but feel a sense of astonished perplexity.
"That book will tell you everything you wish to know about animagi and how to become one yourself," Professor McGonagall said, her smirk being replaced by her stern glare. "That book is a part of my personal collection, and I expect you to not only bring it back when you are finished, but to bring it back in perfect condition. It is not lightly that I am giving this to you, Mr. Potter."
Harry looked down at the book with newfound reverence. When he looked back at Professor McGonagall, his smile was quite possibly one of the brightest he'd ever given anyone.
"Thank you very much, Professor," he said, bowing slightly at the waist. "I promise to take excellent care of your book, and return it in the same condition it was given."
"See to it that you do." Professor McGonagall's stern look was slightly butchered by her smile. "Now, best be off with you, Mr. Potter, lest you miss the rest of your lunch."
"Right." Harry gave her one last nod before hurrying out the door, the book on animgus transformation in his hands. He could hardly wait to see what knowledge this book contained.
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 071
Thanks to the book Professor McGonagall had given him, Harry's first magical project had been determined. The ability to transform into an animal whenever he wanted without the use of a wand not only sounded incredibly useful, but also sounded like a great magical and intellectual exercise.
That night Harry read as much of the book as possible. It was a very large book, not quite the size of A History of Magic, but definitely larger than the standard school tomes he had seen. It would probably take him somewhere around weak or two to finish reading, especially since he could only afford to read it at night before he went to bed.
This was because he not only wanted to continue spending time with Hannah, Neville and Susan—whom he found himself getting along with quite well despite his initial reasons for befriending them—but he also wanted to continue enhancing his reputation as a polite and helpful
young man in order to facilitate more respect from his peers and the teachers. It was necessary for him to present this image to everyone at Hogwarts since he was so famous and everyone had their eyes on him.
Still, even if he was only able to read the book at night, Harry knew he would make good progress. Thanks to his eidetic memory he could read around 100-pages per hour and still be capable of remembering everything. So far he had managed to read just a little under eight chapters of the book.
What he had read was quite fascinating. Becoming an animagus was one of the most complicated and difficult feats of transfiguration to accomplish. Often times it took years for someone to become an animagus, which was why so few people ever bothered becoming one.
According to the book, becoming an animagus required several steps. The first was discovering ones 'inner animal,' which all witches and wizards apparently had. Basically, someone's inner animal was the animal they
were most connected to based on a combination of key factors, such as physical features and personality traits.
Sirius was the perfect example of this. Harry's mother had always told the man that his dog transformation was perfect for him, since both would hump just about anything with two legs.
Morgana had explained that there were two ways for someone to discover their inner animal. The first way was done via meditation to connect with ones inner animal. This process was long and arduous, and also half the reason becoming an animagus took so long. It not only required years of meditation, but also a mastery of Occlumency, the rare skill to defend ones mind from intrusion. This was because Occlumency not only defended the mind from external influences, but also organized the mind in such a way that it was easier to connect with oneself.
According to Morgana, only those with a clear mind could connect with their inner animal, and only those who
mastered Occlumency could take on that animal's form without losing their mind to said animal's instincts.
This was another reason it took so long to become an animagus using this method. Occlumency was not only a very rare skill, but also one that took years to master on own. Morgana's book stated that mastering Occlumency normally required four to five years of intense training under a master, and discovering ones inner animal took another two to three years. That meant if someone wanted to become an animagus using this method, it would take six to eight years all told.
There were, of course, advantages to using this method. One of those advantages was having a much closer connection to ones inner animal. This led to the witch or wizard in question not only having an easier time of their transformation, but also gaining traits of their animal outside of their animal forms.
A good example of this would be Morgana herself, who had used this method to become an animagus. Her form
had been that of a bird—a raven to be more precise, and it had given her several unique traits and abilities she could access outside of her animagus transformation.
One of her abilities had been those of enhanced eyesight. While ravens didn't have the eyes of, say, a hawk or an eagle, they still had incredibly sharp vision. Much sharper than those of a human. Morgana's book stated that after becoming an animagus she had been able to see objects such as buildings, people, animals and plants with extreme clarity up to fifty miles away outside of her animagus form.
Another talent she had gained was the ability to feel air currents. It was a little known fact to those who had not studied zoology, but when a bird flew, they did so by riding air currents, not just flapping their wings. This was especially true during long distance migrations. How else could their ability to travel hundreds of miles without tiring be explained?
This particular ability, while not sounding very useful at
first, had actually enhanced Morgana's skill with elemental wind magic to nearly unheard of levels. Harry had no clue what kinds of powers and abilities she had with wind magic; the book didn't say, but it was definitely an interesting little fact and made him wonder what kind of powers he might gain from his own animagus form.
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 072
However, it was not those powers that truly captivated Harry's attention. While those abilities sounded incredible, what really gotten him interested was Morgana's ability of partial animagus transformation. Morgana le Fay had the ability to partially transform specific parts of her body into her animagus form, while retaining her human form in others. One of the powers she'd been well-known for, in fact, was her ability to transform her arms into wings and take flight by creating wind currents underneath her.
It was that ability, more than any other, that convinced Harry to become an animagus this way, and not using a potion to discover ones inner animal, as most people did. He didn't know what his animal was, but whatever it was, he was quite certain that the abilities he could gain from complete mastery would prove far more useful than simply using the potion.
Of course, there was far more to just discovering ones inner animal that went into becoming an animagus. Becoming one not only required a lot of time just for a person to discover their animal form, but also required a lot of skill in transfiguration.
Morgana had written that in order to become an animagus, there were two branches of transfiguration one needed to obtain mastery of. Human Transfiguration: the ability to transfigure a human into another object entirely, and Cross-Species Transfiguration, which was the ability to transfigure a person or animal into a different animal.
Both sub-branches of Transfiguration were required to become an animagus. It was just another reason so few people ever became one. Transfiguration was one of the most difficult and complex branches of magic. Even the slightest mistakes could lead to disastrous consequences, including permanent transfigurations and even death. For this reason most witches and wizards preferred branches of magic that were considered safer, such as Charms.
Harry was not most wizards. He had every intention of not only becoming an animagus, but mastering all branches of magic to such a degree that no one would ever question that he was one of the best and most powerful wizards in the entire world.
The morning after receiving Professor McGonagall's book, Harry went through the same routine he'd done yesterday. However, even during his work out, Harry's thoughts remained on what he had read the night before. Even when he and Neville made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry was still thinking of how he would become an animagus.
How long would it take? He wondered. Morgana had projected it would take six to eight years by going through the process she had used, but that did that necessarily mean it would take him that long?
While he hadn't known about Occlumency until the Sorting Ceremony, the truth was he'd been practicing meditation since he was seven, and thanks to his need to shield his mind from his memories in order to function as a normal human being, he had practically mastered the art of clearing his mind alread, which was the key to mastering Occlumency.
Did that mean he had already mastered Occlumency? The sorting hat had told him that he would have easily pushed it from his mind had it not spoken to him. But did that mean he would have been able to shield his mind from someone who had mastered legillemency?
He didn't know. Unfortunately, there was no way he could know. Not without finding a master Legillemens and
asking them to take him on as an apprentice. Even more unfortunate was that he didn't know anyone who knew the art. He assumed that Dumbledore might. After all, the man was the most powerful wizard in magical Britain, but he wasn't entirely sure he trusted the man. Not after the Headmaster had left him on the doorstep of his magic hating relatives like a bottle of milk on a cold November night.
Harry supposed that just meant he would have to make do with what he had. He was positive he could discover his inner animal on his own before the start of the new year, it would just take time.
His only real problem was actually becoming an animagus once he found his inner animal. From what he had read of the books he'd bought during the summer about Transfiguration, Cross-Species Transfiguration was a fourth year skill, and Human Transfiguration was a N.E.W.T. Level skill, meaning it was only taught to those who managed to get an O on their O.W.L. Exams in fifth year. To make matters more difficult, in order to become
an animagus one had to combine Cross-species Transfiguration with Human Transfiguration, which was above N.E.W.T. level magic that required Mastery of Transfiguration. All in all, if Harry wanted to become an animagus before the end of the school year, he had his work cut out for him.
Thankfully, he did have an advantage most others didn't. His mum's journals. While his mother had never become an animagus, she had described the process his father, James Potter, and his friends had gone through to become animagi. It gave an added perspective to what he had read from Morgana's book.
According to her, James Potter had been a genius when it came to Transfiguration. One of those once in a generation prodigies. In fact, it had been James who had first gone through the process of becoming an animagus, and it had been him who taught it to Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. His mother had written that James had been so good at Transfiguration that he not only became an animagus during his third year at Hogwarts—an until
then unheard of feet—but had gained Mastery under Professor McGonagall's tutelage before he graduated from Hogwarts.
That would also explain why Professor McGonagall had been willing to lend him her book, as well as why she seemed to have a soft spot for him despite this only being their second time meeting—he didn't count the times she had been around him as a baby. James had been her favorite student, despite the amount of trouble he and his band of misfits got into.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
Harry's attention snapped back to reality at the sound of Neville's voice. He looked at the round-faced boy walking with him on his left and gave a polite smile.
"I'm fine, Neville," Harry assured the boy. "I was just thinking about what we learned in class yesterday."
"Oh." Neville looked unsure for a second, but then plowed
on. "So what do you think of our classes so far?"
"They're definitely intriguing. Way more interesting than the muggle classes I took in primary school," Harry said with a chuckle. Of course, learning magic was infinitely more interesting than learning math and English. Though he would admit to loving science and history just as much as magic.
"So what's your favorite class?"
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 073
"How could I possibly pick a favorite?" asked Harry, this time with a genuine smile. "Aside from the fact that we've only had two classes, there's no way I could choose one branch of magic over another. From what I've seen so far, they're all just too diverse to really compare them anyway."
He looked at Neville with an inquisitive stare. "What about you, do you have a favorite?"
"Well, we haven't really had the class yet, but..." Neville blushed a bit and ducked his head. "I've always had an interest in studying Herbology."
"Nothing wrong with that," Harry said, much to Neville's shock. "Herbology is a useful skill, especially for potion brewers, and I hear that owning your own business in growing and selling plants as potion ingredients can be very lucrative."
It was actually one of the suggestions Ragnok had made to him, though Harry had no idea how he would go about starting that. Perhaps with Neville's help he could get started. Maybe he could even gain himself a business partner if he pushed Neville in the right direction.
"So then, you want to learn about magical plants then?" he asked.
"Yes." Neville nodded. Now that he realized Harry wasn't going to make fun of him for his love of Herbology, he seemed to have gained confidence. "I actually own a greenhouse at home where I grow my own plants. I don't have a lot right now. Gran said she wouldn't allow me to have any of the more dangerous ones until my third year at Hogwarts, but I do have a few that are pretty rare."
"The sounds sensational. Herbology is a commendable field of study," Harry praised, causing Neville to blush in a bit of embarrassment. The boy probably hadn't been given much praise as a child. He wouldn't be so under confident otherwise.
It looked like it was up to Harry to up the boy's confidence to where it should be. That was fine with him. If Harry was going to have Neville as an ally, he wanted someone who could make informed decisions without needing a prompt in the right direction, and he needed people who would challenge and push his beliefs by playing devil's advocate.
One could not become great unless they were challenged
by those around them, including their allies.
"Hiya, Harry, Neville!"
A distinctly feminine voice reached their ears, and both turned around to see Hannah and Susan walking up to them. The blond, pig-tailed girl was waving to them, a large smile plastered on her face. Meanwhile, Susan walked slightly behind her with a shy, embarrassed smile directed at them.
"Good morning, Hannah," Harry greeted with a congenial smile. Hannah's bright smile greeted him as the two girls stopped in front of them. He then turned his attention to the other girl. "And good morning to you as well, Susan?"
"Good morning. Harry." Susan seemed to be doing much better in his presence than she had yesterday. No longer was she looking down at her shoes when she spoke to him. Instead, she was actually making a decent effort at maintaining eye contact.
Her face was still nearly as red as her hair, though.
With the addition of the two Hufflepuffs, Harry and Neville made their way into the Great Hall. It wasn't that crowded yet, though it looked like a little more than half the school was already eating, there were still quite a few seats available for them. Most of the people who had yet to come in were those who enjoyed sleeping in, like Seamus and Dean.
"Why don't we sit at the Hufflepuff table today," suggested Harry. The other three looked at him in identical masks of confusion, then at each other. After a shared shrug, they followed Harry's suggestion and made for the Hufflepuff table. Even though they had only been around him for one day, they were beginning to get used to the boy-who- lived's eccentricities.
By this point in time, a lot of people in the school knew about Harry's friendship with Susan and Hannah, so while their walk down the Great Hall garnered some attention, most seemed to run more along the lines of idle curiosity
than outright gawking.
Which was good, because it meant people had already gotten used to them. That was one of the first steps towards acceptance.
As Harry sat down at the table with Susan on his left, Hannah on his right, and Neville on her right, several heads turned to look at them.
"Harry!" Sally-Ann Perks gasped in surprise while Ernie Macmillon and Megan Jones gaped. "What are you doing here?"
Harry offered the girl a polite, indulgent smile. "I decided that, since Hannah and Susan were kind enough to indulge me by sitting at the Gryffindor table yesterday, it was only right that Neville and I returned the favor."
"Oh." Sally-Ann Perks mouth formed a slight 'o' shape as she spoke. "Well, I guess that makes sense."
"So Harry," Hannah said, diverting his attention away from the other girl and onto her. Sally-Ann Perks puffed up her cheeks slightly, but didn't get to say anything when her friend, Leanne, began teasing her about wanting to spend time talking to Harry Potter.
Harry only spared the girls a curious glance, wondering if this was something girls did to bond with each other. The thought was shrugged off a moment later and he refocused all of his attention on Hannah.
While Sally-Ann Perks began blushing and sputtering, Hannah had continued talking.
"We have Charms class today, think you can give us some advice?"
"I wouldn't worry about the class to much yet," Harry told her. "Right now you'll just be getting an introduction into what you're going to be learning this year. The only spell you'll be taught is a simple color changing charm, which is very simple to accomplish. You should be able to get it
right on the first try, that's how easy it is."
Even though Hannah was the one who asked the question, all of the first year Hufflepuffs near him leaned in to hear what he had to say. They remembered how Harry had done in Transfiguration. If he was even half as good in Charms as he was in that class, then it would be wise to listen to him.
"Speaking of classes," Hannah started. "What class do you guys have?"
"Double Potions with the Slytherins."
Hannah grimaced. "Ouch, good luck with that. I've heard that class is horrible."
"Oh?" Harry blinked. "What's so bad about it?"
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 074
"It's the Professor," surprisingly enough, it was Susan who spoke up. Harry, Neville and Hannah turned to look at her. She flushed at the attention, but screwed up her courage and continued. "One of the older students told us that the Potions teacher is really mean to everyone who isn't in Slytherin. Apparently, he's their Head of House."
"So we have a biased teacher who hates anyone not of his house." Harry frowned. "Surely you're exaggerating, right? I can't imagine the Headmaster allowing someone so biased to teach here."
"Well, maybe, I don't know," Susan admitted softly. "I'm just telling you what we were told. I can't help but think it's true, though. All of the older students who heard us talking agreed."
Harry's frown deepened. He would admit to being worried about what he'd told. Potions was actually one of the
classes he was looking forward to the most. It would be very disappointing to have his expectations ruined by a biased teacher.
XoX
Potions, unfortunately, did turn out to be a major disappointment.
Harry and Neville entered class with the other Gryffindors. The classroom was located in the dungeons. It was dark, dank and there was a cold draft blowing in from somewhere.
The room smelled of fumes, almost clogging the senses. Everywhere Harry looked he could see shelves upon shelves lined with potions ingredients. Some he recognized; many he didn't. He saw powders, slimes, shells that looked like they belonged to some kind of animal. A few jars even had shrunken and shriveled up heads in them.
The Slytherin students were already there. Harry recognized Daphne and Tracey sitting together at a table near the back of the Slytherin section. Blaize sat with Theodore Knott, a weedy looking kid with beady eyes and stringy black hair. A little ways over, Malfoy was surrounded by Greg and Goyle, as well as Pansy Parkinson, a girl with black hair and a pug-like nose.
Harry and Neville sat in the middle of the group of Gryffindors. At first he had considered sitting in the front like he usually did, but after hearing about how the Potions professor was rumored to behave, had decided that it may be safer to sit somewhere more inconspicuous.
Wanting to be prepared, Harry pulled out several of the shrunken objects he had taken to class with him, his cauldrons and brass scales, the book Magical Drafts and Potions, and a muggle notepad where he stored all of his notes on the potions he had worked on over the summer, along with a calligraphy pen and his potions kit.
Neville also brought out the items he'd bought, but didn't
have nearly as many supplies as Harry.
A little while after everyone had entered and got seated, the potions Professor swept into the room, his robes billowing out behind him, making him look like some kind of oversized bat.
Severus Snape was a very pale man with a long, hooked nose and shallow black eyes. His hair hung around his face and was incredibly greasy. It looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. His finger nails were dirty, like he had never taken the time to clean them, and Harry's eyes could pick out several stains on his black robes from potions and fumes that had not been washed out. Once more, Harry questioned the personal hygiene of most adult wizards, as the man before him looked like he hadn't bathed in days.
Class started when Snape took roll. Like Professor Flitwick, he stopped at Harry's name.
Unlike Professor Flitwick, he did not seem very excited.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Potter," he said softly, with that mocking, condescending tone. "Our new—celebrity."
It was in that moment that Harry realized this class was not going to be anywhere near as pleasant as he had hoped, and would likely be even worse than he could have possibly imagined.
Draco Malfoy and his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished taking roll and then looked up at the class with eyes darker than the blackest of nights and ten times more menacing. They held a condescending quality to them that made the man look like he was staring at a bunch of ants, rather than a group of students wanting to learn.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, yet everyone in the class could hear him and watched on bated breath. Harry had to give the man credit, he knew how to captivate an audience, even if he
didn't care about looking more professional. "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."
Harry's eyes subconsciously narrowed. The last part of his speech had been unacceptable. A teacher was not supposed to mock and belittle his students by calling them names. It was the job of a teacher to encourage those learning under them and help facilitate understanding of the subject they're striving to teach.
Sitting beside him, Neville shook ever so slightly in fear. His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to hide under the desk. Two tables away from them, Hermione Jean Granger sat on the edge of her seat and was already taking notes, looking eager to prove that she wasn't a
dunderhead.
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly, causing nearly half the class to jump. Harry just frowned. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air while Harry stiffened in his seat slightly, but quickly relaxed and answered the question. "You would get a powerful sleeping potion known as Draught of the Living Death, which is said to be so powerful it makes the person who drank it seem as if they are dead."
Snape's eyes widened, surprise showing blatantly on his face. It only lasted for a second, maybe less. Harry doubted any of the students had seen it, but he had, and it was good to know he had just surprised the man who seemed to have the desire to pick on him.
"A lucky guess." Snape sneered. Harry's hand twitched where it was on the table. "Very well then, answer me this.
Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezaor?"
"In the stomach of a goat, sir," Harry answered as Hermione's hand began to tremble in the air. It went ignored. "It's a stone-like object capable of curing most poisons, and is used in the preparation of many common antidotes."
Snape's nostril's flared, the only sign he gave to being upset that Harry had answered him correctly.
"What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolvesbane?"
"There is no difference, sir," once again Harry answered the question as Hermione's hand frantically waved in the air. She was beginning to look angry. "It's the same plant, and is one of the key ingredients in the Wolfsbane potion that was created to relieve the strain of Lycanthropy during the full moon, and allows the werewolf who drinks it to retain their humanity during the transformation. Wolfsbane also goes by the name Aconite by mugle botanists."
______________________________________________
___________
Chapter 075
For a long, long second, Snape stood there, staring at Harry like he was the worst kind of disease. Within the sleeves of his robes, Snape's hands clenched into fists so tightly they shook. The man looked one second away from throttling Harry.
And then the man's face went blank for a second, before he sneered. "Ten points from Gryffindor for cheating, Mr. Potter. And another ten for being an insufferable know-it- all."
Harry's body went stiff with rage. He managed to control himself, for the most part, but his eyes narrowed.
"Cheating?" he said, his tone almost questioning. "And just what makes you think I am cheating... sir," he added at the end, the tone more condescending than he had ever used when speaking to a teacher. Not that he was even sure this man deserved to be called such.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "It's obvious to anyone with half a brain that you cheated. None of those questions are on the first year syllabus—"
"Then why did you ask them to me," interrupted Harry, drawing shocked gasps from everyone in the room and flared nostrils from Snape. "If this knowledge isn't in the first year course work, then you shouldn't have asked me those questions in the first place. And the mere fact that this knowledge isn't something a first year is supposed to know makes it equally obvious that I didn't cheat, because there is no way I could have known you were going to ask those questions, since it wasn't in the first course syllabus... sir." This time, there was no mistaking the condescension in his tone when he said sir.
Snape's upper lip curled as he grit his teeth. The man looked like he wanted to burn Harry to ash with his eyes.
Harry met the man's glare head on. A part of him knew this was wrong, knew he should back down and regain his composure, but Snape had pushed one button too many. These days, there were very few things in this world that upset Harry Potter, truly upset him.
Accusing him of cheating or calling him a liar was one of those things. Harry Potter never cheated. He didn't need to. Thanks to his eidetic memory he was more intelligent than anyone his age he had ever met, and more intelligent than many people twice his age. He didn't need to cheat to get good grades.
It was also a matter of pride. Harry Potter was a prideful person. To cheat meant to stain ones honor and pride. And he refused to do that. To have Snape accuse him of cheating galled him.
It was during this stare down, where everyone on the
sidelines waited on baited breath, that he felt it, that familiar feeling of something trying to poke around in his head. Legillemency.
Harry could barely contain a snarl as he realized Snape was trying to invade his mind. It was one thing for the Sorting Hat to enter his head to sort him into his house. He didn't like it, but he could accept it. It was quite another to have a teacher invading his mind because he was angry at having someone contradict him when he knew they were right.
And Harry was not going to stand for it.
Harry's magic rolled forth as he opened the floodgates to his core. His entire body became saturated in energy, which he compressed into a tiny ball within his mind.
And than he launched the magic at Snape's mind probe.
There was no subtlety in Harry's defense. It couldn't even truly be called defense. Harry's mind and magic bashed
into Snape's probe with all the subtle prowess bull in a China shop. It crashed against Snape's mind probe like a middle-aged battering ram bashing against the gates of an ancient stronghold, destroying the probe like it was made of paper. So powerful was Harry's retaliation that the mental attack actually had some adverse physical effects.
Unprepared for such a powerful counter, Snape stumbled as the mind magic smacked him in the face almost literally. The attack burrowed through his mind and drove a spike of pain into his brain.
He hissed, bringing a hand up to his forehead to try and stem the pounding in his skull. It felt like someone had driven a spike through his head. His vision blurred for a second, before snapping back into focus with painful clarity.
Harry watched on, glaring at the man who dared enter his mind uninvited. He didn't know much about the mind arts. In fact, he only knew what the sorting hat had told him. But surely there was some kind of law against invading the
mind of a minor? Of a student?
Snape seemed to come to. His body straightened and his hand fell away. Harry watched the man grimacing warily, waiting to see if he would be stupid enough to attack him in some way again. If he did, Harry would show him that he was not one to be trifled with. If he tried anything, Harry would break the man's nose. It wouldn't take much to knock him flat. Harry could probably reach Snape before he even pulled out his wand.
However, Snape did nothing more to attack him. After a moment where the two stared at each other, one wary and ready to attack, the other with an unfathomable expression, Snape turned away, flicking his hand at the chalkboard where a set of instruction wrote themselves.
"Follow the instructions and begin making the potion," he said, his voice distant. He sounded like he was in pain, or suffering from a migraine. "I expect each of you to have a vial filled with the potion at the end of class. Begin now."
There were a few seconds where no one did anything. Everyone switched their gaze from Harry to Snape in confusion and shock. Harry could almost imagine what was going through their minds as they tried to come up with some comprehensible theory on what had just taken place.
He couldn't blame them; he would be confused as well if he'd just watched what amounted to a mental duel between two people.
Snape snarled. "Well! What are you waiting for!? An invitation!?"
That got everyone started. There was a great scraping of chairs as students stood up and made their way to the potions cabinet to grab their potions. Neville also tried to get up, but Harry placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'll get them," Harry said, summoning his wand from his holster. Without deliberation he waved it over at the cabinet, and all of the ingredients the instructions called
for soon floated above the heads of shocked students and made their way to Harry's and Neville's desk.
Professor Snape eyed the flying potion ingredients, his face carefully blank as he watched Harry begin setting everything up.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票