Chapter 13 & 14: Better Be… & House Tour
Chapter 13: Better Be…

1st September 1991, Hogwarts

When they arrived on the other side of the hall, they stopped in front of a stool. On top was a traditional hat, although it looked far older than his own and somewhat rackety. All new students looked at the hat in confusion, that is until it moved and started to sing.

Harry didn't think the song wasn't that bad. It felt more like a poem than anything that could be danced to. The lyrics just explained the characteristics of every house, and that you only had to put him on to be sorted. The boy saw his future classmates physically sigh in relief and Blaise gave him a glare for not telling him about how they were sorted before.

However, Harry didn't care, he was too preoccupied with staring at the sorting hat. It definitely didn't deserve the deafening round of applause. For the first time, Harry wondered when the Hat started to sing before every sorting. It was enchanted to sort the students, it definitely wasn't designed to sing, or its voice would have been far better. So, that means that one day, they decided to sing before sorting the students and it became a tradition.

The main question would be if the hat is sentient or not. Magic seemed to bridge the gap between objects and life. The moving paintings surrounding Hogwarts were proof of that. However, where was the line? Can the sorting hat be labelled as a living being or is it simply an enchantment that is mimicking a living being?

Perhaps this question was the core of why wizards disregarded magical species so readily. They were creatures born of magic, and so, they treated them like they would a very heavily enchanted object. It was just a theory, but it would explain why wizards look down on magical creatures no matter how powerful they may be.

Still, Harry had no idea if his idea had any merit. It was just based on observation, nothing concrete. He'll need to look it up in the library later on. Oh, he was going to be busy for a while.

He was so long in thought that he hadn't even noticed that a girl had been called to sit on the hat, which suddenly bellowed out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Realizing that the sorting had started, Harry wondered how the hat even worked. It didn't read minds, that's for sure. At least, it didn't look at memories. Old families are very protective of their secrets and having them stored in a single artefact that every wizard in Britain put on their head when they were eleven, was a huge privacy breach.

People far more knowledgeable than him probably theorized about how the hat worked, and if it came out that it could ferret out secrets, the public outrage would be gigantic, and the hat would find itself burnt or destroyed in a tragic 'accident'.

It had to be a test of character, like a personality test with automatic answers that tells the hat in which house students would fit the most. But the hat could also take into consideration the choice of the students, whether they preferred one house over another, that's not mentioning hat stalls – when the hat stays on top of someone's head for over a minute.

Perhaps the hat could read surface thoughts, or at least projected thoughts, which students with a particular preference would be yelling in their minds. Maybe hat stalls are just what happens when someone is compatible with two or more houses, and the hat needs to probe further by physically asking questions, to see their preference.

But the main question was how the hat could differentiate between the values of each house when they are so connected. Ambition is useless without the courage to pursue it, the wits to know how to realize it, and the hard work to make it a reality. The core values of each house were deeply connected, too much of one or another, and could easily ruin a life. A coward with ambition will not amount to much.

While the young Potter was pondering about the workings of the sorting hat, many students were starting to get sorted. He didn't even notice their names; he would have plenty of time to remember them, but it was almost impossible to regain a proper train of thought.

However, even Harry paid attention when Neville Longbottom's name was called up. The entire hall started murmuring but shut up when the boy who lived walked up. As for the boy himself, he walked towards the hat with swagger in his step, which was very misplaced for a child his age. Well, the boy acted superior to anyone else because of that scar, and well, it made sense. Oh, he was a very foolish notion to entertain, but Harry knew that any kid that was raised as a national hero for something he didn't even remember would develop a large ego.

You tended to see it in spoilt rich kids in muggle schools. Longbottom will need to learn to curb it as he grows up. The world can be very unforgiving for people that think they are owed something. That's not even mentioning the Voldemort bullet that he'll need to dodge. Not for the first time, Harry thanked the gods that the Dark Lord hadn't marked him as his enemy.

Oh, the war was coming, and Harry will need to deal with it, but it wasn't happening for a few years, and it was more than enough to have a solid plan and enough preparation to execute it.

Back to Longbottom, the moment the hat even glanced at the boy's head, it yelled out, "GRYFFINDOR!!"

The Gryffindor table erupted in cheer, it was by far the loudest one yet, and the house of lions started celebrating getting the boy who lived in their house as he arrogantly walked to the table. Harry wished the boy the best of luck dealing with the crap that comes with being the Chosen One; he will need it.

After a few more students were sorted, it was finally Harry's turn, "Potter, Harry!"

Harry walked up to the stool while making theories as to how the hat sorted students. When Professor McGonagall put the hat on his head, he heard a quiet yet rich voice, "interesting, very interesting. Definitely, a difficult sorting that one, no preferences too, but with that mind, that talent, that thirst to understand how everything works, Rowena would have loved to have you as a student. You already figured out that I wasn't reading minds, and your theories are possible enchantments I could have had, but you're mistaken. You'll figure it out one day, of that, I am quite certain."

Harry didn't respond but was quite miffed that his theory was wrong. He'll just have to think on it further. The hat though, wasn't perturbed, "But is knowledge what you truly treasure, what is inside your core? Oh, you love it, the thrill of discovering something new, of understanding. But are you suitable for Rowena's house? Or do you treasure something even more?"

The last Potter remembered a promise he made to himself, 'I will not be nothing again. I will put my mark on the world, forge a legacy of my own, and be remembered in the annals of history.'

The hat released a deep chuckle, "Yes, for all your love of knowledge, this is your core. Your ambition burns brighter than the sun itself. Yes, better be, SLYTHERIN!!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked towards the Slytherin table. When he sat at the table near the other first years, he took a look at the Professor's table.

Professor McGonagall had wide eyes and a small, disappointed frown. She probably expected him to join his parents' house or something. Albus Dumbledore didn't even clap, and Hagrid – who had sat on the far right – was grimacing slightly while clapping. What was the most interesting was the greasy haired man who looked like he swallowed a lemon. Guessing that it was Severus Snape, Harry assumed that whatever relationship there was between him, and Harry's parents wasn't an amicable one.

Harry didn't even notice his tie and vest turn green, as well as the hood of his cloak, which had a Slytherin badge on the left side of his chest. Harry just stayed silent, contemplating the ramifications of his new house.

Slytherin was known as the house of Death Eaters because Tom Riddle was reputed to be the heir of Slytherin. That meant that Harry was practically secluded from the rest of the houses. Honestly, he wasn't really bothered. He knew that he wasn't a bigot, and he rarely ever cared about the words of people who didn't know him. Although as the house which had won the house cup the last year, Slytherin students were allowed special privileges, which included special spell practice rooms and a later curfew, which was a plus.

The elephant in the room would be his new housemates. With blood status being a big deal in this house, it would make things difficult for him since he was a half-blood and his parents fought Voldemort, although, he didn't know if that was common knowledge or not.

There were rumours of house politics in Slytherin and Harry wasn't especially concerned with children and teenagers playing at being politicians. It would barely compare to the academic politics that he had to deal with at university in his previous life.

The sorting ended when Blaise Zabini was sorted in Slytherin and sat next to him. The headmaster got to his feet, silence fell upon the Great Hall. He beamed at the students, his arms opened wide and he spoke.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Ignoring the nonsense, the man was spewing, Harry chose to focus on the headmaster. He was an obviously old man, with a long white beard, and half moon glasses. And yet, he didn't really look like a frail old man. He looked like a muggle on the verge of retirement, just with a large beard, old looking glasses, and ghastly coloured robes. These things were an eyesore.

And yet, considering that the enhanced lifespan of the average wizard was around a hundred and fifty years, Albus Dumbledore was probably around a hundred years old. Not that he knew it for a fact, it was guesswork.

Anyway, the elderly man sat down, and people clapped and cheered. A few first years smiled mockingly at the headmaster, but Harry knew better. No one had that many political positions and was senile. Whatever the headmaster had said wasn't just random world. They had meaning, if only for the man himself.

Still, when the food appeared on the table, he realized how hungry he was and started eating. Harry was never really starved at the Dursleys, but he rarely ate to his full, since he normally ate after Dudley who commonly asked for third servings.

Harry didn't speak to anyone while eating, too lost in his own head to care about the idle small talk the other students were spewing. At least Blaise ended up in the same house at him, so that was a familiar face, somewhat.

After everyone had eaten and the food was gone, Dumbledore stood up again and started what seemed like a regular speech, "Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

Everything seemed to go smoothly until the man uttered that last sentence, "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Well, that was the stupidest thing Harry had ever heard. He should have simply warded the corridor and made it inaccessible. Curious students who would find the wards and be rejected would be the only ones to know that it was forbidden. But telling it in front of children, especially impressionable ones with no experience with magic would be like challenging them to come there, which could be very dangerous.

Well, that was a good start for Harry's magical education.


Chapter 14: House Tour

1st September 1991, Hogwarts

Dumbledore asked people to sing the school song without a particular tune, the abomination that followed was one that Harry will do his best to scrub out of his mind. He's definitely wearing earmuffs next year to avoid whatever that was.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore wiped his eyes while remarking, "Ah, music, a magic beyond all that we do here! And now bedtime. Off you trot!"

Choosing the ignore the undeniable fact that the man was tone-deaf, Harry followed the prefects with the rest of the first years. The girl seemed to take the lead. She had a relatively forgettable face, even if that was unkind, but it was nonetheless true. She was of average height, and had brown eyes and black hair that wasn't particularly long or short.

Her companion was blond with blue eyes, and he looked like he wanted to be showing the first years around. Still, Harry was curious as to how the teenagers would handle a dozen children under their supervision.

Surprisingly, his classmates were very well behaved, at least for children. They followed the prefects while just looking around. Harry marvelled at the moving portraits, trying to figure out how they would behave without anyone seeing them.

They walked down to the dungeons and Harry did his best to memorize the path from the Great Hall. Still, they arrived at their destination after a few minutes, well they arrived in front of the wall.

The prefect girl gave them a serious look, "Like all the House common rooms in Hogwarts, the Slytherin common room is hidden, and you cannot enter it without a specific password. You are not allowed to bring visitors from other houses. While it is inevitable that its location is compromised, there are additional security measures stopping members of other houses from entering without being invited in by a member of the house. This rule is not an official one, but it is one of the unspoken ones in Slytherin and you will be severely punished if you're caught breaking it. We'll speak of this further when we get in."

The prefect boy rolled his eyes, "Stop scaring them, Gemma. Look, kids, just try not to break the rules, there aren't many and they're reasonable. Now, back to the entrance. The password for this week is 'viper'. "

The moment he said the world, the wall shifted away, revealing a large door, surrounded by the body of a gigantic snake. The boy walked in and continued to explain, "The passwords will be displayed in the middle of the common room and will glow when it has been changed."

The rest of the first year followed him into the common room and they gasped in awe. Harry felt the music in his head shift. It went from being a complex symphony into a slow but smooth one. It matched the ambience of the room, to be honest. The Slytherin common room was grand in appearance and yet the atmosphere was without a doubt cold. Best of all, it was quiet, and Harry loved quiet. It was why he dreaded the possibility of being a Gryffindor. The rumours of wild parties and events just didn't appeal to him.

As for the room, its walls were adorned with green and silver banners, and it was furnished with plush leather chairs and wooden tables. But what was most stunning was the view that came from the window. It wasn't really the night sky, but the black lake. Harry could see fish swimming around and what seemed like a giant tentacle for a moment – it was probably the infamous giant squid.

All things considered, Harry liked it.

The prefect girl led them to a large couch and started speaking, "Welcome to Slytherin. My name is Gemma Farley, and this is Rowan Padgett. We are the fifth year Slytherin prefects, which means that until your third year, we will be responsible for you, after which we would have graduated. Should you need any help, you are free to come to us with any problems, academic or otherwise. If we're unable to help you, you are free to ask Professor Snape – our head of house – directly. Beware, if he deems that the issue is mundane and finds out that you haven't asked us first, he will not be happy with you for wasting your time. With that said, let's talk about what it means to be a Slytherin student."

Rowan continued on her behalf, "Let's be absolutely clear, we are the most distrusted and dislike house in the school, and that is a fact. You are perfectly free to pursue friendships with students from other houses, but it will not easy. We have suffered greatly because of the last war, which means that speaking publicly about discrimination will not be tolerated. I don't care what you personally believe, but if someone is caught spewing around about Mudbloods and Blood traitors, they will be reprimanded by Professor Snape."

Harry caught the outraged look on Malfoy's face but just shrugged; he didn't care about any of that. As long as no one involved him, he would not enter a political debate with children.

Gemma though continued their little speech, "Slytherin stands united because if it wasn't for the threat of retaliation from the entire house, we would be constantly hexed and cursed whenever we leave the common room. That means no fighting outside the common room. I'm not saying to argue, but try not to cause large scale fights, which means no cursing each other outside of the duelling pits."

"Now, onto a brighter topic, you are allowed to join a club starting the second semester to give you time to settle in. There are dozens of clubs in Hogwarts, each with an age restriction. An entire list will be provided to you next week, but as a rule, you are not allowed to join more than two clubs, so as to not affect the quality of your schoolwork. The two of us will also accompany you for two tours of Hogsmeade village, one every semester, as an extra perk for Slytherin winning the house cup last year. It will be a guided tour, not a normal trip, and you will be required to be under our supervision."

Gemma then cleared her throat, "Finally, Slytherin is the house of the ambitious and thus it rewards ambition. There is a hierarchy involved, but you won't have to deal with it until your fourth year, or third if you're very ambitious. That doesn't mean that you can slack off right now, the more impressive your achievements are, the higher the echelon you will rise, you could even be granted a higher position when you start playing with the big leagues. Don't worry though, you have a few years to learn the ropes before things get serious."

Well, that took a sombre tone. Harry thought that the speech was entirely reasonable up until this nonsense about politics. At least he won't have to deal with it for a while. However, at the mention of a higher position, Malfoy preened, and more people stiffened and were interested. They might as well have had stars in their eyes. Seriously, what was wrong with these kids? They shouldn't be worried about crap like mini school politics. Harry knew how to handle them but really hated to do it.

Finally, Rowan concluded their little speech, "Now, you will be staying in dormitories separated by your gender. Boys, you are not allowed to get to the girl's dormitory, you'll get a nasty surprise if you do. Your trunks have already been brought next to your assigned bed. I suggest that you get used to them, you will be staying here for a few days. Gemma and I will leave you to get to know each other. We will wait for you at seven in the common room tomorrow to help you get to breakfast. Also, don't be afraid of exploring but try to not do it alone. Hogwarts is full of mysteries, but you tend to get lost a lot until your third year. I believe it's time for us to leave. Goodnight. Don't forget, tomorrow, at seven. If you're late, we'll leave without you."

The two prefects exited the common room for their dormitories and left the first years just awkwardly looking at each other. Harry ignored their pointless conversation and chose to finally listen to the melody of the common room. It was so odd. Harry knew that it was a magical talent of some sort, but he didn't understand what it was. Because it wasn't really a song, it was mostly a mixture of heartbeats with different frequencies, amplitudes, and for the lack of a better term, flavours, that mixed together into an amazing harmony.

It was strangely beautiful and yet Harry couldn't hope to replicate it with any instrument. He understood music theory, having learnt the piano in his youth, but there would be something critically missing if he tried to interpret it using sound. It was like there would be like trying to play an emotion or a memory.

For example, the common room was slow and deep and yet caring. It was protective but also mischievous. It was like the soothing cold on hot summer days, a nice shower after a run. It was hard to put it into words, and yet everything seemed so much plainer without it.

"…and I have a Crup called Rupert, but I couldn't bring him with me because of the school rules. What about you?"

A girl was talking and looking at him expectantly. He assumed that they were introducing themselves and he tried to do the same, "My name is Harry Potter. I like books and quietness. It's nice to meet you."

Everyone looked at him awkwardly and Blaise hit him in the side and murmured, "Seriously, you have nothing else to share?"

"I wasn't even paying attention," Harry replied.

"You're supposed to say a few things about yourself."

"Isn't that what I just did?"

Blaise looked like he wanted to punch him, "But you had nothing to say other than you like books and quiet?"

Harry shrugged and spoke up, "I also play the piano, know how to speak five languages, have an owl called Hedwig, and I have never lost a chess game yet."

Well, Harry was slightly lying about the chess thing. Oh, in this life, Harry hadn't lost a game, but he had lost many in his previous one. Oh, he wasn't some kind of master or anything, but it had become a hobby of his to play online after his brother died. It was a good way to pass the time, and he did crack a few theory books to entertain his curiosity.

When he was younger, when he hadn't gained his memories yet, Harry played a few games against the teachers, and well, since complex chess engines hadn't been invented yet, the theory wasn't as developed as it was in his old life. He played mostly by instinct, and he never lost a game so far. He was kind of proud of that achievement, to be honest.

As for the rest of the kids, they gave him approving looks, as if they were impressed by his achievements and the others continued boasting about their families and whatnot. It got boring very quickly but by the end, he had gotten most of his housemates' names and a hint of their characters. A few minutes later, he excused himself for being too tired and decided to go to sleep.

He found his trunk next to a bed that he assumed was his, and Hedwig was waiting for him on top of it. He opened his trunk to grab a change of clothes and went to bed.

"Goodnight, Hedwig," Harry said to his faithful owl, who hooted back at him. In the end, Harry grabbed his book and kept reading until he fell asleep, excited for his magical education to truly begin.
 
Chapter 15 & 16: First Days & Order and Chaos
Chapter 15: First Days

2 September 1991, Hogwarts

He found his trunk next to a bed that he assumed was his, and Hedwig was waiting for him on top of it. He opened his trunk to grab a change of clothes and went to bed.

"Goodnight, Hedwig," Harry said to his faithful owl, who hooted back at him. In the end, Harry grabbed his book and kept reading until he fell asleep, excited for his magical education to truly begin.


Harry woke up, after what felt like the best night's sleep he ever had in his life. The bed was very comfortable. Well, anything would be more comfortable than the cheap thin mattress the Dursleys had given him, but this bed was even better than the one he had in the Leaky Cauldron.

He looked at the clock and it was half past six, meaning that he had half an hour to ready himself before the prefects came to get them and lead them to the great hall to eat their breakfast, and get their schedule.

The young wizard was always an early riser. He had to be. Petunia had the tendency to leave without him to school and force him to walk to school. Needless to say, his body was practically conditioned to wake up early.

Harry chose to use this extra time to clean himself, put his clothes in the small closet awarded to him, and take a small shower. As he readied himself, he thought back to what happened the previous day. He was now officially a Hogwarts student; he will start his classes later in the day. He was also sorted in Slytherin, to the obvious shock and disappointment of McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore.

Considering that he was technically a candidate for the prophecy – according to the stories, at least. Neville Longbottom, the only other candidate was attacked by Voldemort, and the Potters were attacked by the Lestranges later. That meant that it was very likely that Harry could be the second candidate for the Prophecy, Dumbledore's backup plan if Longbottom fails, and wasn't that a disturbing notion?

In a way, Harry's sorting in Slytherin was a boon. Because like it or not, it was very unlikely that he would develop with Longbottom since Harry was in the house of Death Eater. In a way, he should be far away from Dumbledore's and Voldemort's machinations, at least he shouldn't be more than an afterthought, a lost opportunity, for the headmaster.

With his preparations done, Harry grabbed the expanded backpacks he bought in Diagon Alley, put enough parchment for a day, a few self-inking quills, and his schoolbooks. He didn't know what classes he had that day, and it didn't hurt to be prepared.

Still, he had enough time and chose to simply get down to the common room, sit on one of the absurdly comfortable chairs and continue reading his book.

He was so lost in his reading that he sprang up when the familiar voice of Gemma Farley spoke up, "You're up early!"

"It's a habit," he simply replied.

The older girl looked at the book in his hands and smirked, "Devouring your schoolbooks already?"

Harry simply shrugged, "It's a fiction book, about the adventures of a curse breaker, not a schoolbook. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't read it just for the fun of it. I'll wait until I know the basics before reading ahead at my leisure."

Harry must have surprised the girl because she froze for a few seconds or so before taking a closer look at the cover of the book Harry was holding, "I think one of my friends told me about it. Is it an interesting read?"

Harry simply shrugged, "It depends. The plot is average, to be honest, the love interest is obviously forced, but I guess it can be called interesting. I would have stopped reading it if it was horrible."

Their conversation was interrupted by the rest of the first years going down the stairs. Blaise walked towards him with a small frown on his face.

"Where were you?" the dark-skinned boy demanded.

"Here, I woke up early," Harry said while shrugging.

Gemma then clapped her hand and started speaking, "Well, welcome to your first day as Hogwarts students, and your main challenge in the first few weeks will be to navigate the castle. Now, actually mapping down the castle is impossible. There are too many spacial manipulating charms, secret rooms, and random changes at any time. By the time you map down the castle, it would end up being different.

"What can be done, however, is to map down certain locations in Hogwarts that are known for not changing. Professor Snape has graciously given you the start of a map that only includes the location of your common room, the great hall, the hospital wing, and the location of each of your classes. The roads outlined between these locations are also unchangeable, but they are not the faster routes to your destination. You will need to discover these on your own. Hogwarts is full of secret passages, hidden rooms, and trick staircases. Remember, if you ever get lost, asking for portrait should be your first reflex. You are expected to get lost, so, take that into account to not be late for any of your classes. Is anyone confused with what I just said?"

The first years shook their heads and the older witch nodded to them, "Alright, everyone, take a map and we'll start navigating the castle towards the great hall. Remember, do not lose the maps; there will not be any replacements. If you destroy someone else's map, I will be severely displeased."

Each of Harry's new classmates walked towards the pile of parchment, and Harry took one of his own. It was a map of the castle, that was divided into each of the seven floors and the dungeons. It was mostly just the staircases and corridors, except for the few rooms that were coloured. There was nothing magical about the piece of parchment. It was just a simple map. Even the Library wasn't on the damn map.

After scrambling about, the Slytherin first years followed Gemma, with their maps in their hands, and walked towards the Great Hall.

Meanwhile, Gemma started telling them about the basics of Hogwarts, common mistakes, and interesting locations. Apparently, Peeves, the poltergeist, tended to avoid messing with Slytherin students because of the Bloody Baron. Although, the house ghost himself rarely ever spoke to living students. She also warned them from entering the Forbidden Forest, saying that it was full of dangerous creatures, and many older students were permanently injured because of it.

Another thing she warned them about was Argus Filch, the caretaker. Apparently, he was a loathsome sadistic squib that hated children and can be very unreasonable if a school rule was broken. His familiar, a cat called Mrs Norris, tended to patrol the castle as well and was smart enough to bring any rule breaking to her master's attention if she saw them.

By the end of what seemed like a small lecture about the general workings of Hogwarts, they arrived in the Great Hall and walked to the Slytherin table. The breakfast wasn't as extravagant as the feast, but it held everything a growing boy needed in the morning.

Harry sat down next to Blaise and started eating some eggs and bacon, before complaining slightly, "Oh, what I would do for a cup of coffee."

As soon as he finished speaking, a cup of glorious coffee appeared next to him. Harry blinked in amazement, took a small sip and sighed, "Oh, this is delightful. Thank you."

Blaise gave him a weird look, "The house elves. Food can't be conjured, it's one of the fundamental laws of transfiguration. House elves just make things down in the kitchen and move them to the hall, not the other way around."

"How do you know that?" Malfoy asked.

"It's not a secret that Hogwarts has the largest concentration of house elves in Britain," Harry drawled back.

The boy flushed slightly before looking away. Harry didn't care if the blonde boy was accidentally offended; he was perfectly happy just sipping his morning coffee. Although he wondered if it was possible for him to ask an elf to constantly give him cups of coffee over the course of the day.

When Gemma finally gave them their schedules, they realized that they had Transfiguration as their first lesson. Honestly, Harry was eager to learn it. The theory was fascinating if a little simplistic.

Well, it was natural; they were written for the average eleven-year-old child to understand. Harry was many things, but a normal child, he is not. It was easy to get bored with the instructions when in a past life, he had learnt to understand published academic papers. Still, it was where the basics of the theory were explained, and while slightly tedious in their repetition, the recommended books were informative.

Harry followed his classmates to the transfiguration classroom and stifled a smirk when he saw a tabby cat on the Professor's desk. The cat was too aware for it to be a normal animal and was observing them too carefully. When the cat met Harry's eyes, its stare felt piercing and just too human. He knew without a doubt that this cat was an Animagus, that it was Professor McGonagall.

Harry stifled a groan when he realized that the rest of the class was filled with Gryffindor, meaning that they will share the class with the house of the lions for the rest of the year.

When the bell rang, there were still a few missing students, but the Professors didn't seem to care and just turned back into her human form. The class gasped; even Harry did when he actually knew that the cat was their professor in disguise. The magic was that impressive.

The transfiguration seemed nonsensical. The brain of a cat was less complex than that of a human. So, how was McGonagall able to think normally while in her animal form? Well, that was probably an extra trip to the library. He seemed to need the library even more.

Still, the severe looking woman started her lesson with a severe warning, "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."

She then changed her desk into a pig and back, and everyone was suitably interested in the field. That was until she continued explaining, "You will not start by doing something this complex in your first year, let alone your first day of attending Hogwarts. Instead, you will focus on the basics. Transfiguration is a school of magical change. In this first year, we will focus on inanimate-to-inanimate transfiguration. This type of transfiguration has countless applications and methods, where a physically inert object is turned into another. This field of magic is mostly based on two spells that you will need to master possible before you can even cast a single spell. The alteration spell, and the material transformation spell. It's this combination of those two spells that every single transfiguration spell is crafted."

"You will learn to master the two spells during this simple assignment. The alteration spell has the incantation Verto and a triangle as wand movement. Start from the top and do it clockwise. This allows you to transform the shape of an object. The spell is anchored to your intent and imagination, you will need to picture the result of the spell before casting it."

Professor McGonagall then waved her arms and the name of the spell, and its incantation was written on the board. Even the wand movements were drawn.

The deputy headmistress then continued, "The mutation spell has the incantation Muto which transforms the physical matter into another. Like turning wood into metal without changing its shape. The wand movement is a counterclockwise circle with a swish to the right."

She swished her wand and the information on the mutation spell was displayed.

The witch then gave them a severe frown, "I will provide each of you with a match. Using the information, I just gave you, you have until the rest of the class to transform them into needles. The first to accomplish such a task will gain a personal lesson from me, on any transfiguration topic you want, that is valid until the end of your schooling. If you don't realize it, it is not an opportunity I grant easily. Now, get on with it. Let's see what you can do."


Chapter 16: Order and Chaos

2 September 1991, Hogwarts

With a wave of her wand, dozens of matchsticks levitated from her desk and were divided between the students, each with a small pile to use.

The entire class stared at the matchsticks in front of them waiting for more instruction, but the professor gave them a glare, "Are you waiting for the matchsticks to turn by themselves?"

Hurriedly, everyone started to try casting the two spells, while Harry was simply flabbergasted by the fact that no instruction beyond the name of the spells and the wand movements. He had read a few magical theory books during the previous month, and there hadn't been a single explanation why waving your wand in a certain pattern and muttering a few words in Latin could result in a spell. The only guide was a reference to arithmancy, which he still hadn't started studying.

Curious about the effects, he picked up his wand, waved it at one of the matchsticks with the correct wand movement and muttered the spell, "Verto".

Suddenly, he could feel the magic travel throughout his body to the wand, then be expelled by its tip. The magic was different than any of his bastardized wandless spells. Its melody was a paradox of order and chaos that seemed to work, and yet the match stayed unchanged.

Seeing that something was different, he retraced the steps to casting the spell while making sure to picture the change of the matchstick to become pointier. The melody changed again with the same frequency and organized chaos, and the magic travelled through his body to his wand and the matchstick slowly became pointier.

He redid this process until it looked more like a wooden needle than a matchstick. It was baffling. There was no reason why the magic worked. When he tried using his wandless spells, he needed to convince his magic towards his arms and shape it, imbue it with intent, to get the result he wished for, and even then, it was chaotic. And yet with a few movements of his wand, everything was so automatic. The magic was absorbed by his wand, the movements did the control for him, and the intent was put in the incantation. It was just wrong that weeks of effort could be completed with a wand in seconds.

No wonder wands were so commonly used in the magical world.

Well, back to the assignment at hand, Harry decided to try his hand at changing the material of the spell, "Muto."

As expected, the spell worked immediately, and the matchstick started to turn silver. Harry, though, listened to the spell's melody. It was very similar to the alteration spell, but it was more robust, more fundamental, in a way. For lack of a better explanation, the chaos was more influential than the order. It was very hard to put into words, but McGonagall wasn't lying when she said that Transfiguration was the magic of change. In a way, its melodies felt more like transitions between order, chaos, and then order, battling each other yet fitting perfectly.

It didn't take Harry long to master the two spells. He could turn the matchstick pointy with a single spell, and then change its constitution with another. He even decided to add decorations a few times to make things more challenging. Although Harry couldn't make it so the needle could have multiple materials.

Harry looked around to see how his classmates were doing, and they seemed to be absolutely stuck. No one was able to do anything, except for Seamus Finnigan that exploded one of his matchsticks. Even Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom were looking at their matchsticks with frustration on their faces.

Seeing that he didn't have any competition, Harry chose to make it interesting. He was going to try to turn the matchstick into a needle in one go. At first, he started to use the two spells in successions, with both the wand movements and the incantation, "Verto Muto."

It worked. The matchstick had turned into a needle, but the spells weren't really in succession. There were two distinct spells, but they sort of merged into each other. He could feel it in the song. The final order stage of the first spell had slightly merged into the second one, and in a way, the final melody became longer.

This was new. He had never known that spells could merge like this before. Frowning, he remembered that the magic he had listened to all over the castle was not sequential. It was not a single melody, but a veritable symphony where every stage was working together.

And so, he tried to find a way to combine the two spells. After all, wouldn't it be better to use one spell instead of two?

He closed his eyes to feel the two melodies of the spell. Their structure was very similar; order, chaos, and finally order once more. He tried to combine the two melodies of order, the preparation phase into a single one. The two spells combined seamlessly.

However, it was in the chaos phase when something was wrong. The chaos was simply hard to combine with a similar element. After a few tries, Harry decided to simply follow the rest of the magic in the castle and simply turn the chaotic aspect into two melodies instead of a combined one. He compressed and stretched the tempo slightly until it just seemed to click. The final order phase was easily done.

With that done, Harry grabbed his wand and waved it with the same tempo as the symphony in his mind, and spoke the words, "Muto Verto."

The matchstick then turned into a needle with a simple spell. The wood became pointier while turning into metal at the same time. Harry grinned at his accomplishment before stiffening when he noticed the Professor standing in front of him and the look of awe Blaise was giving him.

He looked up to see the deputy headmistress with a small smile on her face, "Well done, Mr Potter. It seems like you have a gift for Transfiguration. Very impressive indeed. Twenty points to Slytherin!"

The entire classroom had stopped talking or trying to cast and was just looking at him with looks of awe and envy on their faces. Hermione Granger seemed to try to disintegrate him with her glare and Neville Longbottom was glaring hatefully at him for some reason.

Harry simply shrugged. He didn't care what they thought of him. As the professor walked back to her desk, Blaise gave him a curious look, "How did you do that?"

Shrugging, Harry answered, "I just followed the instructions. Incantations and wand movements, until I got used to it."

Ignoring his grumbling roommate, Harry looked at McGonagall who was telling him to come to see her at her desk. When he arrived there, she waved her wand, and the entire class became silent.

He looked around in confusion before the professor answered his unspoken question, "A simply privacy charm, Mr Potter. They cannot hear us, and we cannot hear them."

"You asked to see me, Professor?"

"Yes, I did. Do you realize what you were doing in the end?" said Professor McGonagall.

"I combined the two spells together. I wanted to change the shape and the material of the matchstick at the same time."

The professor raised an eyebrow, "Yes, and in the meantime, you created a spell. You made up the wand movements and changed the incantation. Sure, it was a simple combination of effects, it is impressive, and also dangerous."

"I don't understand, it worked as it should have." Harry protested.

"Accidents during spell creation are very common, and they can be fatal. There's a reason it's a NEWT elective, after all. Many brilliant wizards and witches have lost their lives trying out spells that rebounded and killed them. In trying out what you did today, you could have accidentally not only injured yourself but your classmates as well," she explained with a severe tone.

Harry looked down, embarrassed, "I didn't know that. I'm sorry."

The woman huffed in amusement, "I'm not admonishing you, Mr Potter, but try to be more careful next time. Speaking of this, how did you even do it without using any arithmancy?"

"I guess it just came to me naturally, professor," Harry replied.

The professor grumbled something about prodigies and released a chuckle, "Well, I know that you will try to do that again. Although, I insist that you do it in the company of a professor or at the very least a prefect, in case you hurt yourself. Do not be afraid to experiment Mr Potter but remember that your safety is more important than whatever spell you're trying to create."

The young Potter gave her a bright smile but then asked, "Professor, I had a question."

"What is it?"

"I read our textbooks and I never saw any of the spells we did today…"

The Professor gave him a slight smile, "You probably won't find them in any recent textbook. They were standard when I was a student, but the ministry tends to regulate which books are allowed to be on the recommended reading list. Not one of them had the appropriate spells inside, choosing to rely mostly on the theory, with the spells that are necessary for students to complete their OWLS. I always give my first years this challenge to teach them the foundations of transfiguration books."

Harry decided to ask her another question, "I have to ask, are there any limitations to these two spells? Because I don't think I mastered transfiguration in a single spell."

The Professor had mirth in her eyes, "I would be out of a job if you did, Mr Potter. Yes, there are many limitations to these two spells. The alteration spell can only change solid structures with similar mass, and the mutation spell can only alter solid materials, and even then, a lot of materials cannot be turned into, like gold, silver, and copper, although there are certain transfiguration laws involved. Your achievement may be notable, but there are many similar spells, that are more efficient, that have been created. You're not a transfiguration master yet, Mr Potter, although, I can certainly see the potential for you to do so. Now, get back to your desk and help your classmates."

Harry gave the professor a smile and walked back to his desk. Blaise gave him a curious look, "What did she want?"

"She just congratulated me and answered a few questions I had regarding the spells she gave us."

"Like what?" Malfoy asked with a sneer on his face.

Harry shrugged, "Like why they were not in the required books for the class. Apparently, she can only recommend certain books because of the ministry, and none of them had these spells in there."

Finding no interesting gossip, they all returned to their assignments, while far more subdued since the prize was already taken by Harry. As for the young Potter, he simply practised his new spell trying to make the change occur faster and more efficiently magically. He was quite proud of the results.

He also tried to help Blaise, but it didn't seem to work. By the end of the class, the only other person who had any results was Hermione Granger, whose match was slightly pointy with a silver tinge. It wasn't anything close to even Harry's first attempt, but McGonagall seemed to think it was impressive, considering the small smile on her face when she awarded the young Gryffindor five points. The girl had given him smug looks after that, for some reason. Even in this life, he couldn't understand girls.

Afterwards, Harry and the rest of the Slytherins made their way to the charms classroom for their first lesson. Considering Professor Flitwick's reputation as a charms master and a former duelling champion, Harry was especially excited about this lesson.
 
Chapter 17 & 18: Charming Housemates & Silence in the Library
Chapter 17: Charming Housemates

2 September 1991, Hogwarts

Afterwards, Harry and the rest of the Slytherins made their way to the charms classroom for their first lesson. Considering Professor Flitwick's reputation as a charms master and a former duelling champion, Harry was especially excited about this lesson.

Finding the Charms classroom was a lot more difficult than the Transfiguration one. Harry encountered his very first moving staircase on the way and ended up getting on the wrong one. Well, it wasn't the wrong one, it was the right staircase, but the wrong exit, somehow. Harry was still very confused about it. Whoever designed this castle had to be high, or something. Because no sane mind would think that this mess was a good way for children to move around. He had almost gotten lost – despite the map – but simply asked one of the portraits for directions, and they were happy to help.

By the end, Harry was able to get to class a couple of minutes early and sat down at the front of his class. He was later joined by Blaise who seemed oddly attached to him for some reason.

Oddly enough, Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley arrived far later than even the other Gryffindor. Still, Professor Flitwick simply gave them a verbal warning and didn't really chastise them. Well, it was the first day of school, accidents are expected, really.

With everyone having calmed down, the professor jumped on a stack of books with a very impressive sense of balance and introduced himself, "Welcome to your first year of Charms. My name is Filius Flitwick, and I will be your Senior Charms professor for the next few years, which means that we will see each other for quite some time. As you well know, Charms is a core subject that is mandatory for you to have for the next five years. Everyone here will hopefully sit his OWLs in five years, after which you will decide if you wish to continue studying the subject further or not."

Professor Flitwick was short, about as tall as the average first year, which was probably because of his ancestry as a half-goblin. Hybrids of that nature were quite rare, especially because of the Goblin wars that ended barely a century ago. Even then, offspring of mixed races were rare, and Harry didn't want to think about the possible complications that might have happened.

The man looked jovial, and his smile lit the room. Immediately, the entire class was far more comfortable with the half-goblin than they were with Professor McGonagall. Flitwick looked more approachable by the rest of the children, at least compared to McGonagall, whose severe, no-nonsense attitude endeared her to Harry.

The class even burst into laughter when he almost fell down the stack of books he was standing on when he called Longbottom's name. Harry sighed in exasperation as the boy was preening when that happened. People really needed to stop enabling the boy, or he wouldn't amount to anything.

Although, the professor had given Harry an odd fond look when he said his name. Not that it would change anything, really.

After the roll call, Flitwick started lecturing, "The magical field of Charms, by definition, is imbuing a property to an object or a person. As you can imagine, it's a very large field that dabbles with duelling, enchantment, ward building and breaking, and so much more. You can see charms everywhere, and it is without a doubt the most currently used field of magic in the world. We will start today with the simplest charm that every single wizard and witch needs to learn, the wand lighting charm."

With a wave of his wand, the name of the spell appeared on the board, "The wand lighting spell, commonly known as Lumos because of its incantation, is a spell with no wand movement, that charms the end of your wand to light up. Usually, charming a wand in any way is very dangerous, but this charm was perfected in a way that doesn't truly interact with the magic of the wand after being cast. You will study the theory in more depth should you take arithmancy in your third year, but the spell is remarkably easy to cast, yet its theory is remarkably complicated as well."

Flitwick then flicked his wand while saying 'Lumos' and the tip of his wand illuminated itself.

The small professor then continued, "Another characteristic of the spell is the fact that its power output cannot change. You cannot blind someone by overpowering a Lumos charm, but variations of the charm where this restriction is removed can do some serious damage. Now, everyone, take out your wands and flick them while saying the incantation clearly, 'Lumos'."

In a single breath, the entirety of the class spoke the word Lumos loudly. Unexpectedly, a third of the class, including Harry, had the end of their wands light up with white light. Well, that was easier than Transfiguration, that's for sure. Harry's classmates were looking around with wonder, having cast a spell successfully, probably for the first time in their lives.

Although Harry didn't pay attention to their looks, and simply decided to listen for the spell's melody. It was surprisingly beautiful for such a simple spell. It felt more like classical music, in its restriction. But what was more remarkable was the fact that it didn't behave at all like transfiguration. There wasn't any of the chaos and order, just a melody but it wasn't the wand that played it. It sent a command with the energy and the object that played it. In a way, it was a fundamental difference between it and transfiguration. It was like the wand sent the energy and sheet music, but it was the charmed object itself that played the music. The main question was how charms react if the object itself was playing another melody – if it was already charmed.

Harry absentmindedly muttered, 'Nox!' to dispel the light and raised his hand. The Professor immediately called on him, "Professor, how does a charmed object behave if someone adds an additional charm to it?"

The half-goblin let out a proud grin at the question, "What a wonderful question, Mr Potter. It depends on the charm, really. Sometimes the strongest charm wins out, sometimes both chams cancel each other out, and sometimes they can even damage the object. However, there are techniques that can combine charms into layers, which is aptly named, Charm Layering. Alas, this is a far more advanced subject than this year. Take ten points to Slytherin for a very good question."

Harry nodded, satisfied with the Professor's answer. It must depend on the song, really. If the songs harmonize, it would be theoretically possible for the two melodies to be played at once as a single symphony. However, if they don't synchronize, they can either cancel each other out, or just the one with the stronger power source take over.

The Professor then continued to explain the properties of the extinguishing charm, Nox, which can actually cancel out most sources of light, at least if they have been charmed to glow. It doesn't really work on enchanted objects, since they usually have an independent power source powering the enchantment, nor would it work on something like sunlight since it's reapplied. But it is technically possible to extinguish the candle using the charm.

When the Professor started teaching variations of the charms to make the light have different colours, Harry started to hear the difference in each spell and slowly understand it.

Discreetly, by the end of the lesson, Harry had started to slowly modify the Lumos charm to have its colours change on a cycle and was prodding to see which part of its melody handled the power limiter, although to no avail. Spells just felt unstable whenever he changed things willy-nilly, and he chose not to cast any of them, remembering McGonagall's warnings.

Still, it was a fun class that ended too quickly in Harry's opinion, but they were finally done with the classes. It was looking like Monday was going to be Harry's favourite class. Charms and Transfiguration were fascinating. Harry looked down at his schedule and groaned in exasperation. He had most of the classes with the Gryffindors. Why the school tried to encourage this needless rivalry, Harry didn't know.

It was like whoever made that schedule wanted to make the Professors life miserable. Harry didn't miss the obvious glares Longbottom and Malfoy were sending at each other, that's not mentioning Ron Weasley even calling Harry a slimy snake when they hadn't even talked to each other yet.

Still, the Weasley had latched onto Longbottom like some kind of lackey, which wasn't really uncommon, since Malfoy had two of his own. Harry was oddly reminded of stories of gang wars, not schoolyard fights. The sight was so ridiculous it was almost funny.

Also, for some reason, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom wouldn't stop glaring at him. He never even talked to them ever before. Well, he did talk to Granger on the plane, but he was perfectly polite and helpful. Sure, the girl might be slightly jealous of Harry's skill with his magic, but the way she looked at him made him really uncomfortable.

Longbottom, on the other hand, was a mystery. They never interacted with one another, not that Harry particularly cared about a spoilt boy that was probably going to be hunted down by the not so dead Dark Lord that killed his parents.

Harry really wished that he won't be constantly glared at for most of his lessons. At least the theoretical lessons were with the Junior professors. It turned out that it was impractical to have a single professor be responsible for the classes of every single student in every single house. There are over two hundred pre-OWL students in the castle, which means that each teacher will have to give out and correct assignments for every single one of them. That's not mentioning the NEWT students and practical classes. So, each core class Professor can have up to three Junior professors that help them mark grades and give out non-critical lessons. Although OWL and NEWT students were handled entirely by the Senior professors to prepare for their exams. That meant that half of Harry's classes were taught by these Junior Professors, not that Harry have ever met them.

Curiously enough, the defence against the dark arts teachers was not given to junior professors. Harry heard a rumour from Blaise that the curse actually impacted the junior professors as well, which ended up with two dead teachers and a severely injured one. So, Dumbledore elected to only have a single Defense professor, 'because it was traditional'. It's not like Dumbledore could publicly say that he was worried that each year would end with a small massacre of defence professors.

Still, Harry removed all thoughts of defence curses. He had a date with the most wonderful place in Hogwarts. The most beautiful, that's for sure. He wanted to find the infamous Hogwarts Library. Harry went to the Great Hall to get some lunch and asked one of the seniors where the library was. After memorizing its supposed location on the first floor, Harry walked around asking paintings for directions until he found its doors. Harry drew the entrance on his map and with a deep breath, stepped through the open door.

The room was vast, with towering bookshelves stretching up to the ceiling and winding staircases leading to upper levels. The shelves were filled with books of all shapes and sizes, some old and tattered, others new and gleaming.

The room was dimly lit, with the only source of light coming from the flickering candles on the desks and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

As Harry wandered through the shelves, he was amazed by the sheer volume of books that surrounded him. The covers of the books were diverse, some leather-bound with gold lettering, while others had brightly coloured covers with intricate designs.

Harry took a deep breath. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and leather-bound books. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.


Chapter 18: Silence in the Library

2 September 1991, Hogwarts

As Harry wandered through the shelves, he was amazed by the sheer volume of books that surrounded him. The covers of the books were diverse, some leather-bound with gold lettering, while others had brightly coloured covers with intricate designs.

Harry took a deep breath. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and leather-bound books. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.


It was without a doubt, the worst thing he had ever experienced. Oh, it looked beautiful from the outside, an endless sea of books and knowledge, and Harry was an academic at heart. But damn, the experience to find a book and read it in the library was so tedious it wasn't even funny.

Well, first things first, there is no real organization system for the library. Outside of having sections for schoolbooks so that students could find them easily, there were no dedicated sections for general magic. Well, the books were roughly sorted into the general magical field, but nothing more. For example, there is an entire wall dedicated to transfiguration, but it included everything from conjuration to human transfiguration, and there was no order to differentiate any sections in the field.

There aren't even any labels on the intended audience of each book, be it for pre-OWL students, NEWT students, or even Mastery holders and above. It was just so incompetent; it wasn't even funny.

At least, the books were more informative in terms of content and language. The schoolbooks were really written for children, not for adults. Although Harry wouldn't imagine a first or second year student understanding what appears to be a mastery thesis just for the fun of it. Unless they're walking around with a dictionary, that is.

It was in times like these that Harry missed the internet. He had really taken it for granted when it came to academic matters. Theories were reviewed, tested, disproved, and the findings were published and accessible with a few pushes of buttons.

The worst thing was that each section library was actually divided into two main categories. The part that Harry aptly called Spellbooks, which is geared towards students and simply gives step-by-step instructions on how to cast spells, but practically no theory behind it, nor how it was created. It was just recipes, and for all how these were useful, Harry wanted to explore magic, not spells. He wanted to see what made it tick and understand how the symphony in his head worked. That was the beauty of it.

The other books were mostly theory books, with more theory than spells. A book can contain less than a dozen spells and be over a thousand pages thick. But these spells were explained on a very fundamental level, which drastically eclipsed his knowledge of theory.

Funnily enough, he discovered that while skimming the Charms section of the library. He saw a book titled, 'Light Charms, an exploration of the fundamentals and well, there were so many theories and formulas referenced that he was lost a couple of pages in. And the damn thing was about the variations of the Lumos charm. So, yeah, he's going to get started on arithmancy on his own because if he doesn't, most of the library would be useless for him.

Well, that settled on which electives he was taking in his third year. Still, with how many theories were being referenced, Harry chose to pick up one of the theoretical OWL recaps for every theory visited until their OWL years. Oh, Harry had no inclination to cast any of the spells, but it would provide a better understanding of the fundamentals of magic, as well as an understanding of some of the more complicated tomes in the library. He did that for the tomes in Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, and Potions, as well as an interesting book that should explain wand magic. This should keep him busy for a few weeks to digest everything.

Harry decided to return to the common room and read these books at his leisure. To do so, he walked towards the librarian, Madam Irma Pince. The young Slytherin put the five books on her desk, "I'd like to check these out please."

The woman looked at him blankly, "You're checking out four OWL books and a magical theory one?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, we are allowed to take away up to five books, right?"

The librarian glared at him, "If these books are so much as damaged if there is a slight rip in any of the pages, you will pay for the damages and will be banned from the library. Trust me, I know. These books have been enchanted to resist magic, so no repairing charm will help you."

Yeah, these books weren't exactly rare, to be honest, and thus easily replaceable. They were your average OWL revision books, or more accurately, written for students taking their OWLs that have been homeschooled.

As for the enchantment bit, Harry could feel the books' melodies somewhat. They felt protective, for the lack of better terms. There were probably just the usual copyright charms to make sure the books are not mass copied, with a few extra wards for being a part of the library. The books on the back, the handwritten ones that go deep into the theory were far more violent than them, so they must depend on the book.

Still, Harry simply nodded and accepted her condition. He then signed the paper the librarian gave him and waited for him to be given the books, "You have two weeks to return the books, any tardiness will result in a fine and a ban from the library until you return the books. You will not be able to take out any other books until you pay the fine. Now go away."

Harry thought hummed, "I'm sorry, but I had a few questions about the organization of the library please."

"What is it?" the witch responded with obvious irritation in her voice.

"Well, I don't really understand how it's structured on the way back. I can see in the front where the spellbooks are sorted by years of study and their reference books, but after the NEWT books, it feels very chaotic."

"That's because it is chaotic," the librarian drawled back, "there are hundreds of thousands of books in this room. I cannot keep track of them all. The further back you go, the less used the books are. They tend to only be checked out by old students checking a mastery in one subject or another, not a student of Hogwarts. They already know the exact books they need and so they look for them. I haven't had a single complaint so far in my organization, so do not look so outraged. Now, go away. I have better things to do than to pander to a first year student that still hasn't finished his first week of magical education."

Well, that woman was rather unpleasant, that's for sure. All he asked was for her to explain how she organized the books, nothing more. Is she really trying to demean an eleven-year-old boy for her own gratification?

It didn't matter; Harry didn't care about the prickly woman. He had gotten his books and so he turned, put the books in his bag and left the room, seeing the library rules printed on the golden plaque.

The library rules were reasonable. You are not allowed to eat or drink in the library. You are not allowed to cast any magic inside the library. You are not allowed to take out a book without checking it first – there are alarm charms to enforce that – and you are not allowed to damage any of the books in any way. Of course, there is the whole late fee and paying for damages thing, but overall, they were very understandable. A miscast spell could burn down the library, and the library housed a lot of rare books that were worth thousands of Galleons.

Still, the way to the common room was a lot quicker. He might start to get used to the chaotic ways of Hogwarts any day now. Harry passed by the hall for a quick snack for dinner and went to the common room, starting to read his magical theory book.

It was very informative. It turned out that magical cores weren't really a thing. A wizard's body acted more like a buffer to magic, where it would absorb magic from the environment and channel it through the body to be unleashed as spells. The magic was absorbed by the heart, or at least near the heart on a metaphysical plane, and spread out through the body using metaphysical channels for each spell. The better the channels, the more powerful the wizard. The channels start to stabilize around a child's eleventh birthday, which is why students are invited to Hogwarts at that stage.

The thing is that a wizard never runs out of magic as long as there is magic around them, instead, their bodies are taxed with every spell, which is why spells are designed to be fired at once in bursts, and not in a continuous way, which would quickly tire the castor. It was also the reason why Azkaban was a prison, since the island was almost devoid of magic, meaning that wizards can't cast anything.

In a way, magic was like a muscle. You could train your channels to grow as you grow up. Before the eleventh birthday, it could be dangerous and accidents were prone to happen to overzealous wizards that have tried to train their heirs before Hogwarts, the results were not good ones.

Still, a student can slowly use these channels to widen them, allowing them to hold and pass through more magic, making them more powerful. However, on the seventeenth birthday, the magic stabilizes, and the channels stop growing or shrinking.

Of course, there are probably a lot of dark rituals to circumvent these limitations, which is what Harry imagined Voldemort had done, considering how inhumane he was rumoured to look.

Harry was distracted from the book by Blaise who was looking down on him with a frown on his face, "Where were you?"

"I just went to the library," Harry replied.

Malfoy, who was standing behind Blaise, snickered, "You should have been a Ravenclaw if you like reading so much."

Harry shrugged, "There's nothing wrong with reading a book."

"Well, you have to make up for your Mudblood mother somehow…" the blonde boy replied with a smug grin on his face.

This last sentence had gotten Harry's attention and the common room seemed to quiet suddenly. He slowly put a placeholder in the book, put it in his bag, and then turned to face Malfoy, "What did you just say?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, but the blond boy shivered slightly, "I said…"

Harry interrupted the boy, "I didn't think you were stupid enough to repeat it. Now, let's get something straight, Draco dear. I don't give a damn about you; I don't care if you're a bigot or secretly a troll. You can go around terrorizing Hufflepuffs with threats of your father all you want, but you will not insult my parents. Are we clear?"

Draco stiffened, "How dare you…"

The boy tried to raise his wand at Harry, probably to cast some kind of spell, until the green-eyed boy simply grabbed the wand out of his hands. The baffled look on the boy's face was priceless. Harry though didn't even look at the wand and instead was staring Draco straight in the eyes. "I said, are we clear?"

With each syllable, Harry was projecting his anger at the boy with his magic. It wasn't even a spell. It was barely more than a party trick, where Harry just changed the symphony, he was releasing to be a violent and angry one but without any intent, but the Malfoy scion seemed to be close to pissing himself. His nod was shaky, and Harry stopped releasing the magic, while suddenly smiling gently, "Well, that's very good, Draco dear. It's good that we have an understanding, right."

Harry handed him his wand and patted him on the shoulders, "Try not to hurt yourself, dear."

Draco had stopped trembling and started to glare once more, "My father will hear about this…"

"And you'll tell him what? That you called someone's mother a Mudblood in the middle of the common room and that he asked you not to do it again after taking your wand from you and giving it back without using any magic. Good luck with that."

Harry didn't even wait for an answer and just grabbed a bag and went to the bedroom. After all, that book wasn't going to read itself.
 
Chapter 19 & 20: Trouble Brewing & Fame and Glory
Chapter 19: Trouble Brewing

3 September 1991, Hogwarts

Draco had stopped trembling and started to glare once more, "My father will hear about this…"

"And you'll tell him what? That you called someone's mother a Mudblood in the middle of the common room and that he asked you not to do it again after taking your wand from you and giving it back without using any magic. Good luck with that."

Harry didn't even wait for an answer and just grabbed a bag and went to the bedroom. After all, that book wasn't going to read itself.


When Harry woke up, having recollected what happened the day before. He really shouldn't have terrified the Malfoy boy this much. The blonde was nothing more than a spoilt brat, that had never been denied or reprimanded in his life. For some reason, the boy just didn't understand that insulting people in public was just a bad idea. Although, the boy did reveal his status as a Half-Blood, not that it mattered, really; most of Slytherin was made up of half-bloods.

Purebloods really were a dying breed, if they ever were a breed in the first place. The ministry's definition of a Pureblood was also very weird. While normally, a pureblood is a wizard or witch whose great-great-grandparents are all wizards and witches.

And yet, for some reason, old families like the Malfoys seemed insistent on not introducing a drop of Muggle blood in their families and only considered a wizard or witch as a pureblood if there they didn't have a drop of muggle blood in at least ten generations, which was frankly absurd.

With that in mind, marriage to half-bloods and the odd muggleborn are somewhat common. Honestly, normal people do not care about that, since the number of Purebloods was so slim. Less than a tenth of the population could be considered to be Purebloods.

Similarly, muggleborns were also quite rare. No one knew where they came from, or why they develop their magic, but barely three or four students are Muggleborn every year. Everything in between was considered a half-blood which was a very large pool of the population.

While Slytherin boasted that it didn't have any Muggleborn students, half-bloods were so common that they couldn't be discriminated against, and the fact that they are raised in the magical world seemed to calm them. Even the child of a muggleborn and a muggle was technically a half-blood and was considered part of the magical world from birth.

Now, if Malfoy knew that Harry grew up in the muggle world, things could have ended differently. But all the boy did was loudly insult his mother in the middle of the common room. Oh, Harry was angry, that's for sure and wanted to punch the boy in the face. Even if he wasn't enraged by the boy insulting his mother, he would have done something similar because it was a bad idea to roll over and let Malfoy walk over him. The boy would have tried to stretch the line – as all spoilt children did – slowly getting more daring each time. And Harry needed to nip that in the bud to have a peaceful year, even if he had gained the blonde's enmity for it.

Which really didn't matter to him. Harry had no intention of befriending the boy, and Malfoy probably had no intention of being civil to him.

Still, when Harry went to the common room and started reading one of his OWL books. OWLs included all of the critical elements in all the previous years of magical education, which practically made the books into some kind of student notes for every magical discipline. And they weren't even written with children in mind, which was Harry's biggest issue with his schoolbooks.

Considering that he had potions and herbology as his classes for the day, Harry chose to read the potions book. The first-year schoolbook was nothing more than recipes of potions, which wasn't what he was looking for. Luckily, summaries of the common ingredients in potions and interactions between them were in the OWL book.

Harry was so absorbed in his book that he didn't notice Blaise sitting next to him, "We're going to get our breakfast, do you want to join us?"

Harry looked up and saw him standing next to two girls, a blond girl with blue eyes that he recognized as Daphne Greengrass and a black-haired girl with round glasses and hazel eyes that he recognized as. Tracy Davis. The two girls were looking slightly nervous. Harry nodded, "Sure, let me just pack up my stuff."

Harry put a bookmark in his book and put it in his bag. He then grabbed it and joined the other Slytherins to make their way to the Great Hall. While they were walking, Greengrass asked, "Say, Harry, where did you get your school bag?"

"Just a small shop in Diagon Alley. It was recommended to me by the Trunk shop when I asked if they had any expanded school bags with featherweight enchantments. They just pointed me to a store that sold them. They're very practical and I leave all my books inside if I need them."

Davis glared at him, "Lucky you. I think I'll ask my mum to get me one. Walking up and down so many steps with heavy bags is so tedious."

Blaise chuckled, "I told you before, Tracy, that you don't need to bring every book with you to class."

"Hey, I don't bring every book with me!"

Daphne chuckled, "You do because you're scared of losing them like you did all your old toys."

The three of them continued to bicker while Harry just stayed silent and listened to them. He forgot what it was like to just be around people. Harry was alone for so long, with no one to keep him company but himself, that he didn't realize that the simple presence of other people his age could change things. Blaise, Daphne, and Tracy were just joking around like all kids their age did, and Harry was completely lost on what he should do.

Finally, Tracy chose to include him in their conversation during breakfast, "So, Harry, I heard you made Malfoy piss his pants."

Daphne just hit her friend's shoulder and glared at her, "Tracy! That's such an inappropriate thing to say," she then looked at him, "I'm sorry for her. She wasn't taught any manners."

"Hey, I was taught manners. I just choose not to use them," Tracy replied.

Harry snorted, "It's alright. And I didn't really hurt Malfoy, he just insulted my deceased mother, and I kindly asked him to not do it again."

Blaise snorted, "He was shaking at the end of it…"

"Well, I not so kindly asked him to not do it again," Harry drawled back.

The three Slytherins grinned before Daphne explained, "I'm glad someone finally put Draco in his place. He was such a prat growing up, constantly bragging about his mother and father."

"You're all familiar with one another," Harry remarked.

It wasn't exactly a hard deduction to make. The first year Slytherins had already been divided into groups the moment they were sorted. They definitely knew each other before attending Hogwarts.

"Yeah, we were all introduced to all of the other Slytherins in our year," Blaise answered, "for parties and stuff like that. Although our parents are all friends and are partners in a few businesses, so we saw each other a lot and became friends. As for Malfoy, we only met him during the ministry balls, during Daphne's birthday parties since his father had to invite him because they're both in the Wizengamot. But from what I heard from Daphne, I didn't want to be friends with him."

Well, that was pretty much elitism at its best. The parents only wanted their children to meet other children with similar stations, be it politically or financially. Magical Britain was also a somewhat close-knit society. There were barely more than a hundred thousand wizards in the British Isles, and so everyone knew the others, or at least, the ones similar to their station.

Although Harry stifled a snort when he heard Daphne mutter, "I wish I hadn't known him."

Their conversations continued, on the way to the Herbology greenhouse, for their lesson, which they had with the Ravenclaws. Professor Sprout seemed to prefer practical applications over just reading books and so taught them the basics of growing plants. They were barely more than basic gardening techniques like replanting, watering, and cleaning a few plants. Harry had never taken care of a plant in both of his lifetimes and yet didn't have any difficulty following the professor's instructions.

Although, some of the other Slytherins were very disgusted with the idea of playing with dirt. Pansy was practically in tears when her nails were ruined, and Draco was threatening everyone, even the plants, of telling his father about what he was forced to do. Tracy and Blaise didn't look particularly happy doing it either, but Daphne seemed a natural at it, and finished her task before anyone else, without a single stain on her robes. She must have some experience taking care of plants.

Thinking back on it, the lesson was probably meant for kids to get used to the idea of getting dirty during Herbology lessons. Everyone ended up sprinting to the bathrooms to clean their hands after the lesson. And they all made their way to the History classroom for their other lesson, this time with the Hufflepuffs.

Well, they weren't kidding when they said that it was taught by a ghost. The man was just slowly droning what seemed like the exact word for word from the book he recommended, and he didn't even try to change his tone at all. The sad thing was the History of magic could be a very fascinating subject, especially when it came to large scale magical battles and disasters. It was fascinating, and yet the man was boring.

Having read the book, Harry simply swiped back to his potions book and chose to continue reading it until the next lesson. Everyone was asleep minutes later. Adults would have a hard time paying attention to the lessons the ghost was lecturing on. Harry wondered if the man was as boring before his death. The worst thing was that Professor Binns didn't have any Junior Professors, since he didn't have one when he was alive, and he always taught in his routine schedule. Hell, the schedules were often very similar every year to match the ghost's own schedule for teaching that he refuses to alter even after his death. As for assignments, he never asked for any homework, and he corrects only the finals thanks to the school house elves. According to Gemma Farley, he doesn't even change the exams every year and copies could easily be bought from older students.

Now, the only thing Harry could see going on would be if he stopped using the book for some reason. And so, he endeavoured to owl order a dictation quill to take notes for him when he does something better during the lesson.

By the time the bell rang, the entire classroom, Slytherins and Hufflepuffs alike, were asleep, and Harry was halfway through his potions book. This lesson was two hours long, but they thankfully only had one of them a week.

In the end, it was time for the lesson he dreaded the most. Potions. He had no idea if Professor Snape held any animosity towards him. Did James Potter bully this Severus Snape as well, or did they not even know each other? Or perhaps, maybe Snape was never friends with Lily Evans at all.

From the looks of it, potions looked like a very interesting field of study, and Harry was interested in the specifics.

As he made his way to the dungeons, Harry hoped that the professor didn't dislike him on principle, since he was one of his Slytherin. Harry took a look at his schedule and realized that the class was also with Gryffindors. Well, that was a recipe for disaster.


Chapter 20: Fame and Glory

3 September 1991, Hogwarts

Well, by the end of the potions lesson, Harry was pretty sure that Snape hated him. What the hell had James Potter done to him that he would be this petty to students? That man was without a doubt a menace that shouldn't be around children.

Harry had always thought that the stories were romanticized from the point of view of a child. He wasn't abused like the Harry from the stories, he wasn't starved, nor was he bullied by his cousin. As such, Harry somewhat expected Snape to be frosty, not some unhinged man picking on children.

Well, first of all, when Harry entered the classroom, he made sure to sit in the back, to avoid being called on by Snape. Blaise followed after him and they sat together, waiting for the professor to show up.

Everyone had shown up before the Professor; he had a fearsome reputation especially when it came to reprimanding Gryffindors. Even Weasley arrived early and sat down obediently waiting for the professor to arrive.

The door opened suddenly, and the professor entered the classroom dressed in black with his cape billowing behind him. It was cool, but it was also the highlight of the lesson. The man instinctively seemed to search for Harry and glared at him.

After a few seconds, he started his speech, "For those of you who do not know, I am Severus Snape, the current Senior potions professor in this school. I will have the misfortune to teach you the subtle arts of potions that most of you will fail to truly grasp. Potion brewing is without a doubt one of the most dangerous fields of magic you will learn in this school. A single mistake could cause an explosion that would not only endanger you but also the others around you. Most of the accidental deaths that occur in magical Britain have been attributed to potions, be it an accident by a sub-par brewer, or getting poisoned drinking a faulty potion. This is your first and final warning, if you do not take this field of magic seriously, you will answer to me. And believe me, you will wish that you would be dead."

The professor looked around the classroom making sure that he had the students' attention before continuing, "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.

"Like most of your wanded subjects, this class will be divided into theory and practice. I will be responsible for the practical aspects of your lesson, while you will have your theoretical ones with a junior professor. In this room, there are ground rules that you will follow. First of all, you are not allowed to brew any potion outside this room, since you will only risk killing yourselves. Secondly, you will follow my instructions to the letter. If you purposely choose to mess around with potions, you will answer to me. Finally, you will not be allowed to take any of the ingredients and potions outside this room. Am I making myself clear?"

The entire classroom nodded at once, "Now, let's begin our lesson, what are potions? Some of you might foolishly believe that it's simply a combination of magical ingredients, but they would be wrong. A potion necessitates magic to be brewed. A squib or muggle cannot brew a potion, although, I will leave the intricacies for your theory lessons."

"Longbottom!" said Snape suddenly, "Since you like not paying attention, why don't you explain to me what you would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of woodworm?"

The scarred boy, who was snickering with Weasley, stiffened and blushed in embarrassment, "I don't know sir."

The question wasn't really that hard, but it was mentioned in the potion book in the description of both ingredients. The draught of living death was a very well-known potion that were used on unconscious prisoners after large battles. Prisons tended to be full in times of war, and so, wizards used this potion to make sure they wouldn't escape or cause mayhem. The potion was so popular in the past that there are many muggle fairy tales inspired by this potion.

"Perhaps this question was just too complicated for you," Snape drawled, "Maybe this one would be more your speed. What exactly is a bezoar?"

The boy was clenching his fist, "I don't know, sir."

The rest of the Slytherins were snickering and Harry could understand why, even if he didn't like it. Bezoars are relatively common ingredients that every child knows about because they can neutralize most poisons. It was also on the first page of the potions book Snape recommended. The fact that Longbottom didn't know that was honestly disturbing. But still, this had gone past a simple punishment, Snape was actively embarrassing Longbottom in front of their peers.

The Professor was smirking now, "One last time, tell me three ingredients used in the cure for boils."

This was a point-blank question about the first potions they were going to brew. Anyone who had even looked at the book would have known that. Unfortunately, it seemed like Longbottom didn't.

The scarred boy glared at the professor, "I don't know, sir. But why don't you ask Hermione? She seems to know the answer. I have better things to do with my time than to play with potions."

True enough, the young muggleborn was shaking her hand in the air and had actually stood up for the last question. But the way Longbottom was talking back to the professor was beyond insolent, but it was the typical response from a spoilt child that liked flashy magic.

"That will be ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Longbottom. And drop your hand girl, you're embarrassing yourself."

The bushy haired girl had dropped her hand down. Harry noticed that she had watery eyes. Now, that was a very rude thing to say to a young girl that seemed to want to fit in. Oh, she was a know-it-all, that's for sure, and she wanted to show the world how smart she was. But she was a girl that wasn't even in her teens yet. The potion master was being purposefully cruel to her.

The man then kept asking questions to the Gryffindor students. He tended to give out ones just hard enough that they wouldn't be able to answer them. He didn't ask a question to any of the Slytherin, something that was entirely unfair. He even asked Granger what Harry realized were third-year potions. He was doing his best to beat everyone down as much as possible.

Harry stopped paying attention when the man was humiliating Seamus Finnigan and was brought back to reality with the professor's loud voice, "Potter!"

The entire classroom looked back at Harry at once, with disbelief clear on their faces. After all, he was the first Slytherin the professor was going to humiliate.

The man's glare was far more intense than it was with even Longbottom, "You think you're too good to pay attention, don't you? Well, answer me this, what are three ingredients used to make a draught of peace?"

Harry tried to remember if he had ever read about a draught of peace, and he did. It wasn't in the first-year textbook, it was in the OWL book he was reading. The man was asking him questions about an OWL level potion. "Powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, and stewed mandrake," said Harry with a dry tone.

The man actually reeled back when Harry answered his question correctly. Actually, the entire class was gaping at him, especially Hermione Granger who probably didn't even know the answers.

"What does the Wiggenweld potion do?"

Harry simply shrugged, "It is a healing potion that is known to cure minor injuries, although it is infamous for being an antidote to the Draught of Living Death, awakening victims of this potion from their endless slumber."

The professor didn't seem satisfied, "What is the Felix Felicis potion?"

"Felix Felicis, commonly known as liquid luck, is a magical potion that makes the drinker extremely lucky for a period of time, during which everything they attempt would be successful. It is known to be toxic in large quantities, and is very extremely to brew, which takes six months to complete."

The professor looked flabbergasted at the answered question, then asked, "what is Golpalott's third law?"

Harry simply shrugged, "I know that it is referenced as a law for making antidotes, but I am unsure of its content."

This question was a theoretical one that is explained to NEWT students, not first years, and the man seemed to see how caught up he had gotten with his questions. There's a difference between embarrassing unprepared students and asking them post-OWL potions questions.

The man just sniffed and started speaking to the rest of the class, "Now, this is not a rule, but I will heavily recommend you read the instructions carefully before you even attend your practical potion lessons with me, including researching the ingredients used to brew a simple Cure for Boils. Now, clear your desks and start brewing. The instructions are on the board. The ingredients necessary are in your desks' drawers. You will brew this potion individually. You have 90 minutes."

Harry took a piece of parchment and started writing the instruction on the board. They were somewhat different to that of the books, but Harry chose not to question them, and listen to the professor.

It was honestly, a rather riveting experience. Harry stopped caring about what the professor was doing and just started brewing. What he heard while brewing a potion was amazing. The idea was to combine the abstract properties of certain elements and other ingredients to enhance, reverse, or even just stabilize the concoction. Harry saw how the powdered snake fangs acted as stabilizers to the potion, the protection provided by the Porcupine quills, that enhanced the small anti-boil properties of the horned slugs. The symphony kept changing, and the magic channelled by the rod while stirring was like someone slowly changing the key to the potion's melody.

The rods seemed designed to help accelerate certain reactions and encourage certain results from particular combinations. These were standard ones that automatically used the user's magic in a certain quantity, hence the standardized number of stirs for potions. After OWL, specialized stirring rods are required where the magic channelled is actively controlled by the brewer, which is necessary for delicate potions.

By the end, Harry's potion was the exact red from the instructions, and he bottled it and put it on his desk. While the Professor was busy with Seamus whose potion had blown up and caused him and Weasley to grow giant painful boils on his face. The man was berating them instead of telling them to get to the infirmary. Still, by the end of it, Snape's reaction to his potion was him muttering, "Passable." In a disappointing tone and go back to praising Malfoy for his potion which was more orange than red. At least it was better than whatever abomination Longbottom had brewed, which the professor mocked loudly for everyone to hear.

By the end of the lesson, Harry just grabbed his bag and started to leave, ready to leave, only to see Longbottom waiting for him by the door, "I bet you liked that, huh, traitor?"

Harry was confused by what the boy was talking about, "Do you mind clarifying?"

"Just go away with your Slytherin friends," the scarred boy responded.

Harry just rolled his eyes, muttered "I'm too tired for this," and turned to leave for his common room. He had his fill of childish petty professors and weird scarred boys that glared at him for no reason.
 
Chapter 21 & 22: Valonquar & Legacy
Chapter 21: Valonquar

6 September 1991, Hogwarts

Harry just rolled his eyes, muttered "I'm too tired for this," and turned to leave for his common room. He had his fill of childish petty professors and weird scarred boys that glared at him for no reason.

The rest of the week ended unremarkably. Most of the week was with minor professors, who were obviously inexperienced and slightly boring. They definitely didn't have a mastery over the fields as the Senior Professors do, which was proven by the fact that they didn't teach any OWL students or above. They were boring, wooden in their teaching, and didn't even attempt to engage the students during their classes. Honestly, they were disappointing, so much so, that Harry didn't even remember their names after lessons were done. All they did was practically read the books without really explaining anything. They probably seemed self-explanatory to them since they were adults, but their students were children, and Harry mourned the drop of competent wizards and witches because of them.

Although Harry was introduced to two other Senior professors. Professor Sinistra was the senior Astronomy professor, and was quite good at teaching, although Harry would have liked her classes more if they weren't in the middle of the night and had to climb all the way up to the Astronomy tower to get there. Although, the telescopes were very impressive. They were enchanted to just ignore the light pollution and were good enough that Harry was able to see one of the moons of Jupiter as if it was as close as Earth's moon. Still, as interesting as all of this was, the entire field was based on memorization, and was only useful for picking herbs and brewing certain potions that could depend on certain celestial bodies. Harry still had no idea why these magics depended on planets and moons that far away, but he wanted to find out. Now, that would be an interesting astronomy lesson.

As for Defense against the Dark Arts, well, it was a sham of a lesson. Well, not really, Quirrell was surprisingly competent as a professor, even if he was jittery and his room stank of garlic. The man taught them basic cast as a first lesson. It was basically a lesson on how to channel magic into a wand to create small blasts of energy. It wasn't even that hurtful, just a small projectile of magic. It didn't even have a melody. It had no intent, no complexity. From the looks of it, Defense was not really about fighting, but more about general theory and applications of magic. Oh, there will probably be lessons on jinxes and Hexes, but it seems like it's mostly used to bridge whatever is missing in the other core classes.

Funnily enough, the class wasn't even named Defense against the Dark arts at the beginning, just Battle Magic. A dark inclined Headmaster changed it to Dark Arts. He didn't last long at his post, and his successor a light aligned Headmaster changed it to Defense against the Dark Arts as an act of opposition to his predecessor.

That aside, Harry's week was thankfully uneventful outside of Malfoy and Longbottom becoming eternal rivals or whatever because Malfoy insulted Weasley's mother by calling her a cow. The redhead was defended by Longbottom calling his father a filthy Death Eater, which ended up in a small brawl of first years that barely knew how to use the simple cast, thus cementing the Gryffindor Slytherin rivalry for their year. Honestly, Harry didn't care as long as they kept him out of it.

Malfoy seemed to have rallied the entire Slytherin first years to his cause to humiliate Longbottom, except for Blaise, Daphne, Tracy, and himself. He seemed to think that this was some kind of political rivalry between him and Harry for some reason and that they were my 'allies'. Harry didn't know what the hell that kid was learning when he was growing up, but Lucius Malfoy must be a horrible parent to teach his son that this was how the world worked.

Honestly, it might not even be Malfoy senior's fault. The Gryffindors seemed to have rallied behind Longbottom, who became their de facto leader. It was seriously messed up. It was a small mercy that the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs just didn't end up making 'factions' on their own. What the hell was wrong with these children?

Harry tried to get away from all of this madness. Gryffindors attacked Slytherins who took it back on other Gryffindors, and the cycle continued. Harry, himself, ended up needing to learn the Contego charm, a small shielding spell that stopped minor jinxes and spells. It was very easy to learn, but it became a necessity to have a tranquil life as a first year in the castle.

The young Potter just wanted to learn magic, not whatever this was. Still, Harry ended up sitting by the Black Lake, in the shade of a large yew tree and continued reading his books.

He had finished the potions one, which was far more interesting than whatever the hell Snape was doing. He didn't try brewing anything; he wasn't an idiot, but it was a lot easier to visualize how brewing a potion could work and possibly fix a few mistakes during brewing classes – something that Snape utterly ignored.

As for the Transfiguration book, it was utterly fascinating. The spell that Harry 'created' was what was known as a general transfiguration spell, which happened to be very inefficient. This was why students were taught specialized spells that were far more efficient and learnt in their fourth year to combine a few transfiguration spells to get the exact result they wished for. Transfiguring multiple materials was also possible, the general spell was very magically intensive and so it wasn't really taught to students before their third year.

Harry was lost in his charms book when he felt the malicious song of a spell going his way. He instinctively grabbed his wand, turned towards the spell coming his way, and cast, 'Contego' blocking it.

The Slytherin had no idea who was attacking him or why. When he looked back, he groaned as he saw Longbottom and Weasley glaring at him. Harry just raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "Why have you attacked me?"

The two boys seemed surprised that Longbottom's spell didn't work, "We don't have to explain anything to you, traitor."

Harry shrugged, "You don't have to. Your little pissing match with Draco's crew is the talk of the school. Did you really not even wait one week before starting this mess."

The boys just kept glaring at Harry who just let out a resigned sigh, "Look, why don't you just go back to the castle, and we can all pretend that this never happened? I can't tell you how much I don't care about your spat with Malfoy, so go hex him or something, I have better things to do with my time."

Harry's answer was, Longbottom sending a pimple hex his way, 'Furnunculus', which was blocked by another Contego shield.

"Stop doing that," the Longbottom scion complained.

Harry just shrugged, "I will not apologize for blocking an offensive spell. But what is the matter with you, anyway."

"What are you on about?" Weasley exclaimed.

"Well, your friend here has been glaring at me in class ever since, well, ever. We never spoke to each other, and I certainly didn't insult him or anything. So, what's the real reason you're so angry at me?"

"You know why I'm angry at you, traitor!" the brown-haired boy exclaimed.

"No, I really don't, and I don't particularly care as well. You're being troublesome with your angry looks and trying to curse me, and I don't really care for it. So, you either leave me alone, or I will start fighting back, and we all know that that's not something you really want."

Harry was slightly bluffing with that. Well, he didn't really practice any spells besides a couple of useful hexes and jinxes, that were not that harmful. He mostly just focused on transfiguration and learning the variations of the light charms. They certainly helped him to write his assignments.

However, the boys seemed intimidated enough and slowly stepped back. Although Longbottom seemed less apprehensive than Weasley and spoke up, "How could you be sorted in Slytherin?"

"By putting on the sorting hat like everyone else. Did you miss it or something?" Harry snarked back.

The boy blushed, "You know what I mean."

"I don't see the problem, Longbottom," Harry said.

The boy looked angry, "The parents of your housemates killed my parents, killed yours too. And you sitting next to them as if nothing happened."

Harry simply shrugged, "And why should I care, really?"

"Why should you care," Neville responded as if he was trying to process Harry's response, "these are the people that our parents fought against, together. They died to fight them, and you are mingling with them. You're spitting on our families' sacrifice."

"Our parents fought for their own reasons. They were ready to die for them, as a matter of fact, they did. They would not want their children to endanger themselves needlessly, and if my parents disagreed then they didn't love me. Stop living in the past that will never exist. Your parents are dead, as are mine, and curing anyone that is related to their deaths will not bring them back."

The boy was red in anger and yelled out, "How dare you!!"

Harry simply shielded against the spell, "See what I mean. You're so aggressive for no reason."

Neville's eyes were glistening, "You don't care about them, don't you?"

"The dead have no preferences, Neville. I have lived my entire life without them. Why should I care about what they would have wanted if I never knew them? I mourn their loss just as you mourn your parents' deaths, but I am consumed by it. It's best to forget about unrealistic dreams and enjoy life. The world will not be always peaceful, after all."

"I can't believe you. You're supposed to be my godbrother! My mother was your godmother and yours was mine! Does that not mean anything." the Longbottom scion yelled out.

Harry was surprised by that revelation. He didn't think that it was really a thing, "and yet, this was the first time we met each other. What did you expect? That I would be with you in Gryffindor, that we would have been as close as brothers the moment we meet one another."

The boy looked down, embarrassed, "We were supposed to be brothers."

"I didn't even know I had a godbrother when I was younger. You can't call us brothers if we have never met each other before. If the Longbottoms had adopted me, things would be different, but unfortunately, they didn't. However, I'm more than willing to try being friends with you."

Harry gave the boy a way out. He really didn't want to be friends with Longbottom considering his likely adventures with Voldemort. But if he really was family, Harry was willing to give it a shot.

The boy seemed to be enraged even further, "It's too late now, you're one of them."

"One of who, exactly?"

The Weasley boy seemed to have gathered his courage, "Slimy snakes!!"

Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "So all this hostility isn't because I ignored you, but because I'm in Slytherin?"

"YES!" both boys yelled.

Harry really had no response to that. The issue wasn't even about Harry but what he represented. He was technically a part of Longbottom's back story, and the boy didn't want it to be tainted with the whole Slytherin thing.

Harry just shrugged, "I can't really do anything about that, and I'm done with the conversation."

The young Potter turned put his book in his bag and was starting to leave. Both Gryffindor didn't seem to want to see him leave, so, they tried casting at him. Harry just dodged the two stinging hexes by crouching down, and cast, 'Flipendo'.

A blue arc of magic hit both students at once and knock the two boys back into the grounds. The spell was slightly modified to act like an arc and not a beam. It was part of the second year curriculum about basic spell manipulation in defence of the dark arts.

Harry heard the two boys groaning in pain to make sure they were alright. Well, apparently Longbottom was now an enemy. The last Potter simply shrugged and walked back to the castle. He was getting hungry anyway.


Chapter 22: Legacy

6 September 1991, Hogwarts

Harry's return to the Slytherin common room was met with cheers from his classmates. Malfoy and Parkinson had come to congratulate him for his 'victory' for some reason, and Draco even exclaimed that he had 'known that there was a Slytherin hidden underneath all along'. Apparently, Longbottom had loudly complained about him in the Gryffindor common room, and now everyone knew, at least a version, about Harry's encounter with Longbottom and Weasley.

These kids were weird, and Harry just ignored them in favour of exploring his magic. He had found no mention of the melodic heartbeats he heard whenever he was near magic. It was extremely useful when perfecting a spell or even modifying it slightly. It had even helped him sense and dodge the spells from the two Gryffindor boys that attacked him. He did try to look at magical gifts that wizards often had, but magical families tended to be very secretive, unless it was an extremely noticeable one, like Parseltongue, for example.

Still, Harry was surprised when he was cornered by Blaise, Tracy, and Daphne, in the common room. Daphne had given him a severe look, "So, we are formally against Longbottom and his lackeys."

The green-eyed boy tilted his head, "What are you talking about?"

"The duel with Longbottom and Weasley, Harry," Tracy explained.

"What about it? They attacked me when I was reading outside the castle. I tried to talk to them, but they wouldn't listen, so I retaliated. It barely qualified as a duel. Hell, I didn't swear vengeance or anything. I just knocked him around so that he would stop trying to attack me."

"Well, Longbottom does, and now Malfoy thinks you're supporting his group," Blaise replied.

Harry was aghast by the implication, "I'm not supporting anyone. I can barely stand being in the same room as Malfoy. And I sure as hell am not going to follow his lead and attack Gryffindors for no reason. As far as I'm concerned, the entire thing is entirely illogical and frankly moronic. Look, after an attack or two from Malfoy, Longbottom will forget all about me, and he'll focus on him. As far as I'm concerned as long as none of us gets attacked for no reason, then I'm not going to involve myself in any of this."

The three of them visibly relaxed when he told them that. Had they really thought that Harry wanted to get into childish fights with Gryffindor all the time? This house rivalry was getting too far. Harry could understand that it might help motivate students to do better and to behave, but this was getting out of hand. He only hoped that they would calm down.

A week had passed and it didn't look like they would. In fact, the conflict seemed to have escalated to include the second and third years as well. Harry didn't expect the Gryffindor-Slytherin spat to turn into an all-out war and yet it did. It was becoming common to walk around the school and see a duel happening between two students. Malicious pranks from the Gryffindors were met by curses from the Slytherin. And the worst thing was that no one seemed to care. The professors broke fights and took off points when they ran across one, but for every fight they stopped, there were ten that they didn't.

It was during his class with Professor Flitwick that Harry decided to ask a question. The professor was obviously impartial given that he was the Head of Ravenclaw. Harry could see that McGonagall was slightly partial to the Gryffindors, and Harry was sure as hell that he wasn't going to ask Snape about it. The man's behaviour was visibly colder compared to his classmates, something that everyone had noticed.

It was after Charms class about the colour changing charm that Harry stayed back and asked the half-goblin, "Professor, may I have a moment of your time?"

The jovial professor immediately jumped down and looked Harry in the eye, "Of course, Mr Potter, ask away."

"I'm a little concerned about the whole Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry that's going on. Does it always go this far?"

The professor's jovial expression fell slightly, "I'm afraid so. It wasn't always like this. Before the war, Slytherin were just students like everyone else. During the war, everyone was afraid and kept their heads down. It was after the war that things started to get this far. We indulged them at first, to get it out of their systems. You see, in the war, everyone lost a family member or a close friend, either to death or to Azkaban. I'm not sure which is worse, to be entirely honest.

"However, when the war was over, when people stopped being afraid, they started to get angrier and angrier. Until every year, first years end up fighting. We let them get through with it because stopping them now will mean that they will get it out of their systems when they're older and have been taught dangerous spells. You see that older students just don't seem to care all that much, and that's what we want. Although, this year, Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy, who are considered the heirs to the light and dark factions, have caused tensions to rise up, which is why the second and third years started to get involved. Don't worry, there is a teacher's meeting at the end of the week where we'll discuss how to deal with this situation."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said after releasing a sigh of release. At least the staff weren't insane enough to let their magic wielding children run around sending nearly lethal spells at each other.

"You remind me of your mother, you know?" the professor asked with a fond tone.

"You knew her?" Harry questioned with a hopeful tint in his voice. The young Potter knew deep down that Lily Potter was dead, that he had never met her. But past life or not, he wished he had met her. Even if he had memories of his past life, Harry was still a child, and a mother's love is a very strong force.

"Oh, yeah. Lily Evans was one of my most brilliant students. A veritable charms prodigy that could have gone far. Horrible in transfiguration though. I even recommended her in the charms guild to pursue her mastery. She was a kind woman but her anger was something to be feared. I miss her dearly."

"No one said anything about her, to be honest. Thank you, professor." Harry replied.

The professor huffed, "You're very welcome, Mr Potter. My door is open to you if you wish for any questions about your mother. And I hope to see you at the duelling club in your next semester. I think you'll do well, there."

Harry nodded in understanding and left the room. He chose to trust the professors to do their jobs. Instead, he chose to focus on the scholarly side of things. He had finished the books he had taken from the library, and it was showing. Harry's practical magic was starting to get absurd by all standards. He had tried out a few transfiguration spells from his schoolbook and they all worked perfectly. Harry was honestly taking his time with them, trying to perfect them and their modifications. He wanted to figure out how they worked and map out the frequencies needed for the transfiguration in his mental symphonies, to be able to craft transfiguration spells of his own one day.

For all his achievements in practical magics, Harry discovered that arithmancy was his favourite subject. Oh, not the crap that is taught in third and fourth years, but from OWL level and above. The first two years of the elective are just a study about magical numbers and their properties, as well as their uses in primitive divination. Afterwards, it is practically a small introduction to calculus while taking into account the properties of the numbers. It was starting from the fifth year that things started to get interesting with the inclusion of arithmancy in magical theory. It was Advanced Arithmancy that Harry wanted to truly study.

Honestly, it didn't take long for him to get used to the oddity of arithmancy, which was basically maths with the inclusion of traits of certain numbers which were considered as an additional dimension of sorts. Adding in the fact that until the statute of secrecy, most mathematicians and philosophers were wizards, the arithmancy system is very close to the one from Harry's previous life.

Harry quickly returned the books and chose one on advanced arithmancy, which was actually taught by a different professor. He thought about starting with runes as well but changed his mind. Advanced Arithmancy looked to be quite complicated, and Harry didn't want to overwhelm himself with it.

The truth was that the young Potter wanted to discover everything he could about magic. He wanted to study it as no one had ever before. He was going to try out every single magical field and see how it ticked, to create a unified theory of magic and arithmancy seemed to be the best way to get about it. It combined the theory of practically every wand-based subject, but Harry had no idea how.

Magic is chaotic by nature. It was unpredictable. Harry had learnt that when he tried to use wandless magic. It was trying to grip water without scooping anything, and complex effects just weren't replicable. And yet, with a wand, a few words in Latin and moving your wrist a certain way made it very possible to replicate a spell a thousand times.

It all came back to wands, didn't it? Arithmancy couldn't be wrong; it was based entirely on fundamental magical laws. But it was also more than useless whenever rituals were involved. At least, according to the books about rituals that were allowed in the public side of the Hogwarts library. Rituals seemed more art than science and Harry wanted nothing to do with them until he was more experienced with magic at the very least.

But the point stands. Someone, probably during the rise of Rome, invented the wand and created a giant system of magic based on Latin. With it, a soldier with magic would be able to tirelessly cast a replicated spell, which probably explained how quickly they were able to expand their empire. Curiously, the name of this inventor was nowhere to be found. He was most likely a genius with no parallel, probably surpassing even Merlin with his understanding of magic. And yet that man didn't have a legend as he should have but was lost to the sands of time. Wizards now take his gift, his magical system for granted. It was breathtaking how one man more than two thousand years ago changed the course of magical history and yet was forgotten.

That's what Harry wanted, really, to make his mark on the magical world in a very significant manner, but not be forgotten as well. He wanted to forge a legacy that would remember his existence. He wanted young wizards and witches to swear by his name long after his body withers and becomes nothing more than dust.

This was Harry's deepest wish, the reason he was sorted to Slytherin. In his previous life, he had died forgotten, alone. In this life, Harry grew up being told that he was no one, and that he would never amount to anything. He would prove them wrong. He would prove them all wrong, that he swore.
 
Chapter 23 & 24: Clouds & The Brawl
Chapter 23: Clouds

17 September 1991, Hogwarts

This was Harry's deepest wish, the reason he was sorted to Slytherin. In his previous life, he had died forgotten, alone. In this life, Harry grew up being told that he was no one and that he would never amount to anything. He would prove them wrong. He would prove them all wrong, that he swore.

It was after the second week of school that something new finally happened. Flying lessons were available to first years, and the entire house war that was going on practically disappeared overnight just because of the excitement of it.

Longbottom kept telling everyone about how good he was on a broom, so much so that a quidditch team apparently wanted him to join. Malfoy wasn't that far behind him in terms of fake stories, saying that he almost escaped a muggle helicopter while flying on a broom. Discounting the fact that it was illegal for quidditch teams to hire anyone under the age of fifteen, and the fact that helicopters were very loud that 'narrowly' escaping them meant that Draco was either deaf or an idiot, the Malfoy scion's story was a clear breach of the statute of secrecy, which can be very heavily enforced, even to minors.

Surprisingly enough, Tracy was also very invested in flying lessons. She was apparently very fond of Quidditch and hoped to be a chaser on the Slytherin team in her next year. Harry stayed quiet, of course, during the bragging sessions, rolling his eyes at his classmate's ludicrous stories.

His precious peace and quiet were interrupted in the middle of the common room when Malfoy proudly proclaimed, "Potter, you must be disappointed to be away from your books for so long during flying lessons. Didn't you say that you didn't like Quidditch?"

The entire common room froze when the smug looking blonde said that. Tracy looked at Harry with betrayal in her eyes, "Is it true?"

Harry simply shrugged, unconcerned, "I quite like flying, actually, but I just don't see the appeal in Quidditch. I suppose I could watch it, but I don't really fancy myself playing, to be honest."

That was a lie, of course, Harry had no idea about flying a broom. He's just banking on his Potter flying genes being a thing as they do in the stories.

Still, the entire common room kept shouting obscenities at him until Harry raised his wand and flicked it. A loud cannon sound was emitted from the wand and silenced everyone, "Look, I don't care if you think that Quidditch is the best sport in the world. I am allowed to have my preferences, and if I don't like it, and I don't keep shoving this fact down your throats, then I expect you to extend the same courtesy to me. Or have all of you forgotten your manners?"

Everyone looked down sheepishly and Harry nodded to them and left, his friends following him.

When they were outside the common room, Daphne glared at the hidden entrance, "What did Malfoy want to achieve by saying something like that?"

Harry simply shrugged, "I don't know, and I don't care. Although, I never expected the fact that I don't like Quidditch to cause this big of a scene. I swear there were seventh years yelling at me."

"It's the biggest sport in the world, of course, they're going to be mad at you. Hell, I'm mad at you. How could you not like Quidditch?" Tracy answered while glaring.

"I just don't. I also don't like eating fish. Do I have to explain myself?"

"But it's Quidditch!" Tracy protested.

"Look, all I'm seeing is seven people on brooms trying to put a ball in hoops while the beaters try to push them off the brooms and the seekers keep trying to find a smaller golden ball with wings to stop the match. There's just too much chaos happening at the same time, that I find the game ridiculous. Honestly, I would rather be reading a book than watching a game. Unless of course Tracy is playing. That would change everything, of course."

The girl looked down and blushed while the other two snickered.

Harry just continued, "Look, I just don't like the game. It's not a big deal, and even if you want me to go to watch them, I will. But I don't think I'll ever play it. But I love flying. I'm actually excited to get my flying license."

Yeah, flying lessons were technically outside the Hogwarts curriculum. They weren't graded, and you can actually fail the class. The reason is to have enough proficiency in flying broom to be allowed to do it by the ministry. You could do it at any time, during any year, but the professors recommend doing it during first years to both act as a scout for the house Quidditch teams, and because the classwork is relatively light in the first year.

In a way, a flying license was like an apparition license. Only people with them can buy a broom from anywhere. Technically, you were not even allowed to own a broom without having a licence and anyone selling or giving a broom to someone who doesn't is illegal and punishable with a large fine. Oh, parents ignored it, of course, and bought their children brooms. But they were technically the parents' property, not their children's.

It was also the reason why first years weren't allowed to have brooms, since it was technically illegal, but once they get their broom license, they would be allowed to use them to move around – outside the castle, of course.

Alas, the time came for the flying lessons to begin. Of course, it was with the Gryffindors which was a recipe for disaster. Still, during an afternoon at the weekend, Harry and the rest of the Slytherin first years left the common room to the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, sunny day and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns towards a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Gryffindor hadn't arrived yet but there were around twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the grounds. Harry started spreading his senses, a new skill he was trying to master. It was an extension of his magical hearing. He still didn't know what to call it, sue him; he was horrible with names and magical hearing was explanatory enough. It seemed too disappointing to explain his skill really, but alas, he didn't confide with anyone enough to have better name suggestions.

Harry chose to focus on each individual broom. They looked old and worn out. The songs were also slightly fading. One of them was particularly out of tune. But still, the brooms' songs were so wonderfully complex, with a light air of freedom and discipline. The enchantments – whatever they may be – were breathtaking, and Harry had lost himself slightly staring at one particular broom in the back whose song was still loud enough and speedy enough for it to captivate his interest.

Malfoy seemed to take pleasure at Harry's distraction, "You look scared, Potter. Afraid you're going to fall over and join your parents?"

The blonde must have had the memory of a goldfish if he already forgot how terrified he was when Harry was angry at him. After the thing with Weasley and Longbottom, he returned to trying to pester him, which annoyed Harry to no end.

And so, Harry returned the favour with the best method to deal and annoy with an attention seeking child. By ignoring them entirely, "Mm…Did you say something?"

The boy's face reddened in anger and embarrassment, "Are you deaf or something?"

Harry simply shrugged and answered with a disinterested voice, "No, I just tune you out whenever you start talking. It's rarely more than idiocy for the most part, and it's too troublesome for me to pay attention to your yapping."

The Malfoy scion's head was redder than the infamous Weasley hair, and he yelled out, "How dare you?"

"How dare I what? Then tell me, Draco dear, what did you say that you're so angry at me for not paying attention?"

"I SAID THAT YOU WERE TOO AFRAID OF BROOMS BECAUSE YOU'RE SCARED OF FALLING AND JOINING YOUR PARENTS!"

Harry stifled a smirk. That boy was too easy to rile up and he didn't pay attention to his surroundings when he was angry.

Of course, I teased him until the flying teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived and from the looks of it, she had heard Malfoy's little tantrum, "How dare you Mr Malfoy? This is unacceptable. Detention this weekend with Mr Filch and believe me, young man, I will write to your parents about your behaviour in public. Now, apologize to Mr Potter!"

The boy paled in fear and then just glared at Harry who was smiling innocently at him, "I apologize for my words, Potter."

"I accept your apology," Harry replied.

Harry looked up at the flying instructor with a grateful smile which she returned. The woman seemed like a kind person, with grey hair and yellow eyes.

As for Harry's friends, they were gaping at him. "How did you do that?" Harry exclaimed.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Harry simply answered.

However, the commotion distracted Harry enough from noticing that the Gryffindors had arrived as well. Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger sent hateful glares at him, which he returned with a smile.

Before anyone could say anything, Hooch spoke up, "Well, what are you all waiting for?" the woman barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry walked towards the one that fascinated him and stood next to it.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say, "Up!"'

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry did his best not to summon the broom with his wandless magic, and simply activate the commands on the broom. Unsurprisingly, Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once. He was actually one of the few that did it. It was a verbal command that was powered by an artefact, not a spell, which meant that either the brooms were defective, or the others just couldn't activate the artefact properly. They were probably slightly afraid that their subconscious chose not to activate the artefacts.

The moment his hand touched the broom, he felt its song intensify, and change to suit his own. It was a happy song, fast and exciting. Harry immediately grew to like it. By the time he looked around, he noticed that everyone had their brooms in their hands.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Although Harry snorted when the witch ended up correcting Malfoy as well.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said the Flying teacher, more irritated in her tone and manners. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –one-GO!"

Harry kicked the ground as hard as possible and channelled some of his magic to the broom, it immediately responded and accelerated away. He had to adjust the output a bit, but the young Potter would admit that he never felt at home as much as he did at this moment, flying through the air, free of all burden and worries.

Madam Hooch made them do some basic drills, and Harry grew quickly used to controlling his broom with perfect precision. It seemed like the Potter genes were a thing. Flying was in fact in his blood.

Alas, all good things come to an end, and the relatively peaceful flying lesson ended when Malfoy purposefully pretended like he had lost control of his broom and slammed into Ron Weasley, who lost control as well and was falling towards the ground.


Chapter 24: The Brawl

17 September 1991, Hogwarts

Harry was sure that the redhead was going to die. The boy was gripping the broom as if it was his lifeline and practically accelerating towards the ground. Longbottom seemed to fly behind him trying to stop him, to no avail. Everyone had thought that the boy was done for until the professor quickly shouted, "Molliare!"

Instead of crashing, the redhead simply bounced on the ground and then a few times until he fell outside the spell. Harry had read about the incantation that the professor had used. It was for the cushioning charm, which is usually used on brooms to make them more comfortable, but Professor Hooch had somehow manipulated the spell to make sure the Gryffindor wouldn't hurt himself while falling.

Still, the redhead was whimpering and was holding his arm, which looked very bruised. The professor immediately ran at the injured student and spoke up, "Let me take a look at your arm. Hmm, it looks like a broken wrist. Why don't I take you to the infirmary? Don't worry, Madam Pomphrey will fix that right up."

She then turned and looked at Malfoy, "As for you, Mr Malfoy, I'm taking fifty points from Slytherin and another week of detention."

"But…" the boy protested.

"But nothing," the flying instructor interrupted while glaring back at him, "You injured your classmate, and you could have gotten him killed. If I wasn't paying attention, your classmate could have severely gotten hurt. You need to think about the consequences of your actions, Mr Malfoy."

Hooch then turned to the rest of the class, "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

As expected, the moment the woman left with the whimpering student, Longbottom walked towards Malfoy with his wand pointed and snarled, "You'll pay for that!!"

The blonde immediately raised his own and smirked back, "I don't think so."

He was immediately backed up by Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Nott while the rest of the Gryffindor boys backed up the boy who lived.

For some reason, Draco gave Harry an expecting look. Which Harry simply ignored and took out his fiction book.

The entire little conflict just stood there, frozen, giving the last Potter incredulous looks. Daphne hit Harry on the side, and he looked up with a fakery annoyed voice, "What is it?"

She just pointed at their frozen classmates that were giving him expectant looks, which Harry ignored, "Mm very interesting…"

Seamus Finnigan shrieked, "What's so interesting?"

"Oh, Dresden the curse breaker just entered the temple of doom after getting past a sphinx by solving its riddle. I just find it interesting how writers often reuse common riddles in their books for some reason. Like come on, it's not that hard to be creative for once. Like seriously, the Ravenclaw knocker would probably help them. It's kinda put me off the whole series, to be honest…" Harry shot back.

Longbottom looked frustrated, "What are you on about?"

Harry just pretended to be confused and tilted his head, "Well, I was reading the book, and Seamus here just asked me what was interesting, so I told him. You need to pay attention to conversations, Neville. It's very rude to just ignore your classmate's questions."

Malfoy burst into laughter, "See, even Potter thinks you're an idiot."

The rest of his sycophants joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson. "Do you have a crush on him or something? Or is he too scared to talk for himself?"

Longbottom was blushing from embarrassment and looked at Harry, "Are you seriously taking their side?"

"Their side for what?" Harry answered while doing his best to look oblivious.

"Did you seriously not see Malfoy push Ron off his broom?" Neville questioned.

"Oh, yeah, I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy reading, you see."

"You were flying," the Longbottom scion protested.

"So, I was."

Harry didn't elaborate on his words and Longbottom let out a frustrated groan, "Don't be an idiot Potter, are you with me or against me."

"With you or against you for what?"

"For the fight with Malfoy!!" Neville yelled back.

"Why are you fighting with Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Because he hurt Ron for no reason!!"

Harry shrugged and looked pensive, "What an unfortunate situation we find ourselves in."

Honestly, Harry had no idea what he was saying. He was just buying some time by confusing his classmates until Hooch comes here. Because they start firing spells without any adult nearby to stop them, people could easily get hurt.

Malfoy grinned at him, "It's good that you know where you belong, Potter."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Draco dear."

The boy gritted his teeth at the familiarity Harry was addressing him with.

The blonde though, controlled himself, "I mean that you're a Slytherin. That you're with us."

"Well, of course, I'm in Slytherin. Draco, we've been having classes together for two weeks, hell, we're in the same dormitory. Were you not paying attention?"

The Gryffindors were now chuckling, and Malfoy turned in a nice shade of red, that reminded Harry of Ron Weasley's hair.

"Enough, Potter," Draco yelled at him, "Stop playing stupid, we're fighting Longbottom right now. So, you're either with us or against us. How is that HARD TO UNDERSTAND?"

Harry though had stopped listening to the blonde and continued reading his book. Daphne elbowed him to the side again. The young Slytherin noted that she had an amused gleam in her blue eyes.

He pretended to be surprised and looked up at Draco, "Oh, did you say something? This chapter is just very good and stopped listening to you."

The blonde then walked towards Harry in a threatening manner. Harry just discretely pulled up a weed with his wandless magic over the boy's shoes and watched as he fell over, planting his face on the mud.

Harry's classmates just stood silent, not believing what had just happened, before bursting into laughter. Even the Slytherins were laughing. Falling over for no reason is just funny to pre-teens. Longbottom was loudly laughing at his 'rival's' defeat or whatever. He arrogantly took a step towards Malfoy, and Harry did the same for Longbottom.

The boy's foot was caught by another weed and he fell face first to the mud, right next to Malfoy. Harry telekinetically moved the two boys' wands away from them without anyone noticing. As expected, Malfoy and Longbottom just kept fighting each other in the mud. Their clothes would have probably been ruined if it wasn't for magic. The rest of the first years just kept laughing at the two rivals.

Well, that's one crisis averted. Harry had no interest in being part of this over the top Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry. It just felt too petty and a waste of time. He simply took out his book once more and continued reading. At least, he tried before he noticed that someone was tapping him on the shoulder.

Daphne was giving him a sly smile, "I know what you did…"

"What are you talking about?" Harry responded.

"Stop pretending to be clueless. You know exactly what you did. You goaded Malfoy and Longbottom into falling in the mud while making fun of them to stop the duel situation."

Tracy elaborated, "It was wicked. You just pretended not to care, and you made them look like idiots. How did you do that?"

Harry signed in defeat, "Longbottom and Malfoy are actually very similar. They're both extremely spoilt and like any spoilt boy, they crave attention. If you ignore them, they will get angry, very quickly. They also expect any kind of response for insulting you. If you put some boundaries, like I did when Draco insulted my mother and left a little bit for him to focus on, you would have given him an ultimatum. He could either go too far, or you just wouldn't care. Either way, he doesn't win anything. Neville is very similar. People either worship the ground he walks on, or they just hate him. Someone not caring is very new, and he's desperate to put me in one of these boxes to know how to deal with me."

"So, you ignored the both of them and let them want to buy your attention, to outbid each other, and just pretended not to understand?" Blaise asked.

"Oh, no, this was entirely coincidental. I was just pretending to not pay attention while buying some time until Professor Hooch comes back with Weasley. The whole mud fight thing wasn't part of the plan, believe me, but it's better than the spell brawl that could have happened before."

The moment Harry finished his sentence, the grey-haired woman ran towards the two fighting students and waved her wand, "Immobulus."

The two boys were immobilized by the freezing charm, and the professor waved her wand and sent a few nonverbal spells at the two boys. They floated in the air, and the mud disappeared, revealing two heavily bruised boys. The elder witch glared at the two of them, "In all my years of Hogwarts, I have never seen such horrid behaviour during any of my classes. Crashing into students, getting into fights, what a disgrace. I have only been away for five minutes. You couldn't behave for just five minutes? I am disappointed in both of you and I will speak to both your heads of house and believe me; you will be punished appropriately. As for the rest of you, you did not try to stop the fight, in fact, you were encouraging it. So, I will not continue this class. You will all return to your common rooms, and I will see you next week."

After a few groans and grumblings, the students left the terrace and returned to the common room together, while Hooch took Malfoy and Longbottom to their respective heads of houses. Harry simply sat by the fireplace in the common room and continued his book, while enjoying the company of his friends.

Because Harry realized that they were his friends. It was a strange notion; the fact that he had friends now. He was never the more sociable of creatures and preferred his own company. He rarely ever made an effort to be included in any kind of activity, and yet somehow, he now had three friends that he spent most of his time with.

Harry looked at the two girls and boy that he called friends with a warm look in his eyes. Daphne and Tracy were arguing with each other, while Blaise watched and sometimes added an argument of his own.

However, the young Potter's mind was preoccupied with Professor Hooch's reaction to the behaviour of Ron, Draco, and Neville. At a muggle school, something like this would almost guarantee their expulsions, but as far as Harry understood, they were getting a few detentions and a stern talking to from their heads of houses, nothing more.

Malfoy had almost killed Weasley, and yet no one seemed to make a big deal out of it. It probably had to do with the development of healing magic that seemed to be able to save practically anyone, as long as dark magic isn't involved. Harry fell asleep that day with questions on the nature of healing magic in his mind.

The following day, Harry was woken up with the news that somehow, Neville Longbottom became the Gryffindor seeker. It didn't make sense, since nothing impressive happened during flying lessons other than Weasley almost dying and Malfoy and Longbottom getting into a fistfight in the mud. Harry didn't particularly care about Quidditch, but it seemed like a lot of special dispenses were given to the boy. No wonder the boy was so spoilt and entitled. What the hell had McGonagall been thinking when she gave him that position?


AN:

For those who are saying that I'm not responding to posts, well I apologize, but it's kinda embarrassing since I don't use this platform much before I started writing this story, but I kinda don't know how to reply without it being a Threadmark. As for those who made corrections, I wanted to thank you for bringing those to my attention. I'll spend the weekend going through the past chapters and fixing the mistakes you spoke of.
 
Chapter 25 & 26: Of Meetings and Plots & Of Frustrating Beavers
Chapter 25: Of Meetings and Plots

31 September 1991, Hogwarts

It was a chilly October morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the Senior staff had gathered for their monthly meeting.

Minerva McGonagall felt exhausted. This has been her most difficult year so far. Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy coming to Hogwarts at the same time caused a resurgence in the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry that had been slowly becoming dormant after the end of the war.

There was always some tension between the two houses, but never like this. The first years often took it out of their system by Yule. But this year was different. Somehow, Longbottom and Malfoy have stirred their seniors, renewing their interest in the rivalry. It didn't help that Albus was insistent on making sure that Slytherin and Gryffindor students share half their subjects together – especially the practical sessions – to 'mend the rivalry with proximity and friendships.

No one would ever deny Albus' genius, but sometimes, the man simply didn't make sense. She gave up trying to understand his motivations decades ago.

The transfiguration mistress looked around and saw that the other professors looked as tired as she was. This rivalry thing was getting too far. The constant hexing and curing, the pranks and duels that the staff had to deal with, were taking a toll on all of them. And Albus was insistent on not forcing the issue.

Professor McGonagall took her seat at the long table adjusting her spectacles as she surveyed her colleagues. As usual, the room was bustling with conversations, but today there was an undercurrent of tension that everyone carried. This year was simply too different. This was more of an informal meeting that they held every month or so to discuss their students and make certain decisions. It was for Senior Professors only since it was their responsibility to communicate any major decision to their juniors. Even the Defense against the Dark Arts professor wasn't invited because they tended to last very little for them to be comfortable with them during informal meetings. Of course, they are invited to the formal meetings at the end of each term, but not for things like these, with colleagues Minerva had worked with for years and considered many of them to be friends.

Finally, the Headmaster arrived and took a seat at the head of the table, his twinkling blue eyes surveying the group of professors assembled before him.

"Good morning, everyone," he began. "I trust you are all settling into the new school year well?"

The professors nodded and murmured their assent.

McGonagall gave them a glare and decided to force the issue, "Are you all joking here? Albus, we need to do something about the Gryffindor Slytherin rivalry. It's getting too much. Pranks, curses, spells, duels, Hogwarts is turning into a battlefield, and we need to reign our students in."

"They're just boys, Minerva," the headmaster admonished as if she was still a child, "they'll learn to control themselves as they grow up."

"They won't because like it or not, it looks like you're encouraging them. Going over the rules and naming Longbottom as the Gryffindor seeker was over the line, and you knew it and still made me do it. It looks like we're rewarding him for getting into a fight with the Malfoy boy. They need to be disciplined," Minerva protested.

"My dear, I simply thought that Quidditch practice would distract the boy enough to stop this rivalry. You must have seen a slight decrease in the number of pranks ever since you let Oliver Wood mentor him." Dumbledore explained, and Minerva had to admit that he was right. It was still very hectic, and the situation was still worse than the previous years, but Neville Longbottom stopped getting involved in these duels, being too busy to keep up with his studies and Oliver Wood's demanding training.

"This is only mitigating the problem. The boy needs to learn not to attack other people for a war that ended over a decade ago. And like it or not, the boy is setting an example for all the Gryffindors in the school. We need to be more severe with our punishments. Give them longer detentions or more strenuous ones when it's related to fighting."

Dumbledore seemed to age and nod, "Alright, double your punishments when it comes to spell fights and pranks. Severus, how is your house dealing with the heightened hostility."

"Nothing," the man drawled, "The court of Slytherin does not involve themselves in matters of third years or younger. When someone older involved themselves in the rivalry issue, they were punished internally. You will have no complaints from any of my older Slytherins, believe me. I'm afraid I cannot say the same for the Gryffindors."

Minerva winced. She knew very well that a few older students had been getting involved in the duels with the Slytherins, who seemed to be very coordinated. It had something to do with inner-house politics, which Slytherin was famed for. Whenever Severus spoke of any political tensions, conflicts, or decisions inside the house, he always said 'the court' as if that meant anything. Minerva had no idea which students were in this court, only that it only involved fourth years and older, and that they ruled the house of the snakes.

Dumbledore brightened at Severus' response, "Very well, since young Neville has started to calm down, I ask you to convince young Draco to do the same."

"As you wish, Headmaster," Severus answered, "The Weasley Twins need to be handled as well. Their pranks are starting to become more violent and that needs to be nipped in the bud. We do not need another version of the Marauders at Hogwarts, especially at this time."

The man had practically spat out that last sentence. After all this time, the potion master was still bitter about the Marauders' pranks on him. He had a point, of course, but he also tended to escalate things more by using dangerous curses to defend himself.

Minerva ignored his last comment and simply nodded, "I will ensure that punishments are more severe for upper years getting involved. That should calm things down, or at least deescalate slightly. The Twins will behave themselves if I threaten to take away their experiments."

Dumbledore let out a bright smile, "Good, now, with that done, does anyone has anything to add before we begin speaking about the students," he waited for a few seconds while everyone stayed silent and continued, "very well. As is tradition, let's start with the first years. I believe Miss Abbot is first. Pomona, you are her head of house, what do you think?"

What continued was a brief description of each student. It wasn't anything too interesting. Just saying if the first years are homesick, or if they have difficulties with any subject, or if they tended to be in any kind of trouble.

Truth be told, the transfiguration professor noticed that Albus tended to pay attention when the student was the son or daughter of a death eater, of a member of the order of the Phoenix, or of people with promising talent.

For example, Albus perked up at the mention of Hermione Granger, whose professors sang praises at her – other than Severus, of course, who called her an insufferable know-it-all. But the headmaster dismissed Anthony Goldstein entirely since he was an average student.

He actually straightened up when Longbottom's name was announced and looked very thoughtful by the end. As expected, Severus ranted about the boy and his attitude – which is ironic considering his own godson was as much of a brat as the boy who lived, if not more. But what was so surprising to everyone was how normal he was. Oh, he was a good student, talented in charms especially, and a herbology prodigy according to Pomona, but he was just above average in his schooling. He wasn't Merlin reborn, or the second Albus Dumbledore, just a normal spoilt boy who had lost his parents and was hailed as a hero for it.

Everything went well until Albus finished with the Patil twins and took a look at the students' sheet, "Now, Harry Potter. What do you think of him so far?"

Oh, Harry Potter, the son of two of her favourite Gryffindors. His parents were extremely loyal, very talented, and even members of the Order of the Phoenix, having fought and survive the dark lord many times. His sorting was as much a surprise for Minerva as it was for Severus and Albus. They froze in shock when the hat yelled out 'SLYTHERIN' a month ago, having expected him to end up in the same house as his parents.

Still, the boy was the picture of the perfect student. He was respectful, diligent, and didn't break the rules, and now that she thought about it, he was never involved in any of the incidents between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Minerva was the first one to speak up, "The boy is a prodigy, Albus. In all my years of teaching, I have never seen anyone grasp the intricacies of Transfiguration quite like him. And he's had no other tutelage, I can tell, but the way he experiments with magic, it's breathtaking."

Filius concurred, "It's the same with me. He is blowing past his peers at a ridiculous rate."

The others repeated the same in other words and for some reason, Albus looked slightly pale. He looked directly at Severus who spoke up, "The boy is adequate in Potions."

It looked more like he was forcing the words out of his mouth, wanting to do nothing but praise the son of the man he considered to be his rival.

Still, a stilted silence followed as everyone simply gaped at him. Even Albus had raised his eyebrows. Severus rarely ever praised any student, even his own. For all his favouritism, he was still one of the best potion masters in the nation and his standards were very high.

The headmaster still looked very shocked, "And what about his attitude?"

"He likes being alone but is often seen in the company of Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracy Davis. He rarely interacts with any other, except for Draco Malfoy when the latter tries to intimidate him or recruit him. Longbottom seems to try the same, but the boy seems uninterested in the rivalry altogether. His friends tend to be following his lead." Severus elaborated.

"This is very concerning. It's not good to have such a promising young man isolate himself and forget to live. For all that Hogwarts is a school of magic, it's also a place to nurture interactions between peers. Try to partner him with Hermione Granger during the practical sessions. If a friendship blossomed, it could be the first step of inter-house communication. Young Harry's friends will follow his lead, after all." Albus proposed.

It wasn't really an opinion, more of an order. Severus sneered by nodding his acceptance. Minerva knew what Albus was doing, obviously trying to stop any pureblood propaganda from affecting the boy. He wasn't exactly wrong to do so. Slytherin students can be very persuasive, and pureblood supremacy still reigned supreme in this house.

In the end, Minerva didn't protest. She owed it to James and Lily to make sure that their son would grow up to be a good man. And Miss Granger did seem very lonely in Gryffindor since she was the only one that refused to join in on the fighting, disapproving of such behaviour.

"Well, that's enough about Mr Potter. Do keep an eye on him though. A gifted student mustn't be left to his own devices if he gets too bored."

A few professors chuckled and they continued to the next student. Still, Minerva was still unnerved by the odd gleam in Albus' eyes as he was thinking about young Harry. Still, a couple of students later, she forgot entirely about it, dismissing it to be a trick of the light. After all, Albus Dumbledore couldn't possibly be scheming about students as young as young Harry, could he?


Chapter 26: Of Frustrating Beavers

13 October 1991, Hogwarts

It had been almost two weeks since all the professors, for some reason, had chosen to partner him up with Hermione Granger, and Harry was starting to lose it. Don't get him wrong, it had nothing to do with her being a muggleborn Gryffindor. Yes, he had to admit that the girl was smart. Oh, she wasn't some prodigy like he imagined, just a lonely girl that spends every second of her life reading.

Honestly, Harry wouldn't care, really, if it wasn't for her attitude. She was just so inflexible with everything. She considered the textbooks to be gospel and did not even try to find an alternate way of solving a problem. It wasn't exactly a bad thing, since she was new to magic and experimenting with magic was dangerous, but the fact that she kept trying to boss Harry around was so frustrating. She kept watching him like a hawk and commented on every modification he tries to make to any spell.

One time during charms class, Harry was trying to modify the colour of the Periculum charm which sends red sparks from the wand. The Potter scion was able to turn the sparks into something resembling flares, and one where the sparks could be controlled by the wand, by combining certain elements of the Lumos Maxima spell.

The girl kept lecturing him on the proper wand movements of the spell, that he was doing it wrong and why it was wrong with a smug tone of superiority. She also seemed to develop some kind of rivalry with him; she tried to answer every possible question by the professors, while Harry rarely ever raised his hand. She tried to master spells before him, while he was trying to experiment with his magic. She was like a badgering beaver that wouldn't leave him alone and Harry was very close to blowing up on her.

He was definitely getting closer during the potions lesson. Snape had been grinning maliciously at him as he revealed his partnership with Granger. Potions were by far the worst place to stick him with Granger.

The girl quickly took command and asked him to prepare the ingredients while she brewed the potions, and Harry was too tired of arguing with her, having spent the previous night trying to modify the Contego shield which was a lot harder than it seemed. He did manage to add an extra layer to the shield and create the Contego Duo spell, but he was trying to turn the second layer into a repelling shield and be able to switch between them. It was the biggest project he had undertaken so far, and it was as hard as it sounded.

In this class, they were brewing a bruise healing potion. It wasn't that hard, considering how complex the subject could be. So, Harry prepared the ingredients as written on the board in silence with the possible arithmancy permutations of his new spell on his mind. Half an hour in, he finally started to look at the potion Granger was looking at.

It didn't look right. Oh, it had the right colour, but the melody was too soft, and out of tune. Harry looked at the instruction and saw that she had over stabilized the potion by adding too much flour. It was a perfectly acceptable error for a first year, where the potion recipes are often too stabilized to prevent accidents from happening, even if the effects are very reduced in their effectivity. To rectify it, Harry added a mild catalyst in the form of crushed unicorn horns that was already used as a main ingredient but was dissolved in the acid from before.

The moment Harry put the pinch of unicorn horn, the potion didn't change colour, but Harry could feel the difference in its song.

Happy with his work, Harry returned to dicing a few ingredients but was interrupted by a shrilly voice, "What do you think you were doing?"

The young Slytherin answered her with a bored tone, "I'm cutting the ingredients."

"What did you put in the potion?"

Choosing not to convince her that it was possible to modify a potion, "I don't know what you're talking about."

The girl started to get redder and redder, "I saw you put something in the potion!"

Harry shrugged, "Doesn't ring a bell."

"You're trying to ruin my grades, aren't you? Just because I'm better and I answer more questions in class, and I have a better potions grade than you. You're trying to ruin my grade so that you be better overall."

Seriously, what was that girl talking about? Harry didn't even know what her grades were, only that Snape seemed insistent on giving him no grade over Exceeds Expectations not that he cared. If the man wanted to be petty, then let him. As far as he was concerned, only the OWL and NEWT grades mattered, and they wouldn't be given by a childish teacher with a grudge.

Of course, the Batman wannabe had to sneak on them, "What is this ruckus, Miss Granger?"

Harry wanted to groan, he wanted nothing more than go back to the common room and just take a nap, "Potter sabotaged my potion, professor."

The greasy haired professor turned to Harry, "And what do you have to say about that?"

"Well, considering it's both our potion, I'm not stupid enough to ruin my own work purposefully. And does it even look ruined?"

The man looked at the potion and then turned back to give Harry an unreadable look, "You added powdered unicorn horn as a catalyst."

Harry shrugged, "the potion was over stabilized. A pinch of unicorn horn would have solved that, and the potion would still be safe enough to handle. I would have added mint leaves to restabilize it after the next reaction."

The potion master's eyebrow raised, "Were my instructions unclear enough for you to follow, Potter?"

"They are perfectly fine, but I'm not the one who added too much flour in the first place," Harry responded while looking at Granger.

The man seemed to glare at the girl before speaking up, "Five points from Gryffindor for causing a scene for no reason."

He then turned and left to berate Seamus Finnigan for almost making his potion explode. Harry turned to continue his work and saw his partner almost in tears, "What is it?"

"How do you know all that? Did you have magic lessons before attending like Neville?" she demanded.

Huh, interesting. The boy who lived ended up having magic lessons before Hogwarts. He couldn't have been training with a wand since his magic would have been too chaotic before his eleventh birthday to be handled by a wand. He definitely wasn't taking potion lessons, considering how abysmal he was in it. It must have been theory lessons or toy wands that don't really cast magic but help train wand movements and incantations. It would explain how the Longbottom scion was learning hexes and pranking spells so quickly.

"I like to read," Harry said.

"Yes, I see you in the library. But I'm also reading, why don't I know the things you do?"

"You read a lot more than I do, at least in terms of library books. But the books I choose are simply better. I read when something interests me, or there's something I want to try out. Reading too much is as likely to distract you from the useful parts. Quantity has a quality of its own, but it's not enough to bridge the gap if you physically can't read enough books."

The girl stopped crying and Harry simply took over the potion and put the hellebore acid in, then a minute later the mint leaves he had saved up. The leaves dissolved and he started stirring the ingredients.

The bushy haired Gryffindor was still confused, "I don't understand."

"Look, you're reading around twice the amount I do. But one in every five books you read is actually useful for your education. You either choose books that are beyond your comprehension, or you just choose books that don't contain any useful information. That difference makes my time reading much more valuable than yours. It's not an insult, it's fact. Don't make it a competition, look at what makes you better and focus on it. It's how you learn. What books don't tell you is that magic is an adventure that you undertake. Restricting yourself is a very bad habit to have." Harry explained.

The girl gave him a slight smile, "Thank you. You're not so bad, Potter."

"You do realize this is the longest conversation we ever had. What impression did you have of me, before?"

"I don't know. Cold, I guess. You should hear what Neville and Ron keep saying about you."

Harry groaned, "We only talked to each other twice in my life, and they attacked me every time. Just because I'm not willing to bow down and kiss the feet of the boy who lived, doesn't mean I'm some monster. It just means that I have some dignity."

The rest of the class was relatively peaceful. At least Granger had stopped glaring at me all the time for no reason. When it was over, Harry submitted a vial of his potion and left the room. He was joined by his friends, but unfortunately, also by Malfoy, "So, you're getting along with the Mudblood, Potter."

Harry simply stopped and looked Draco in the eye while releasing his presence a bit, "What did I say about that word, Draco?"

The blonde paled, "I'm sorry, muggleborn."

Harry stopped scaring the boy and answered, "I needed to, or we would have ended up killing each other in the middle of our classes. She's a bit of a stickler for the rules. I could see myself getting along with her if she relaxed for a bit."

Daphne snorted, "Like that's going to happen."

"Never say never, Daph. Never say never." Harry said with an amused glint in his eyes.

"Stop calling me that, Harry," she yelled back while chasing him.

The Potter scion had tried to make a nickname for her. He expected the girl to disapprove. Daphne was raised like an aristocrat, with a rather large focus on nobility and elegance. She didn't really approve of nicknames. Just calling her by her first name was already proof that she liked him. But the moment he tried out her nickname, she practically ran at him snarling and oddly blushing. She chased him around the castle until they were both tired.

Honestly, Harry liked having friends. It was odd, not having to work by himself all the time. He had obligations, like making sure that they ate their meals together, or him helping the others with their spell work, or them helping him by taking extra books from the library for him to read. The was also the protection of numbers. People didn't try to target him or any of his friends because they rarely instigated anything.

On that side, things were even starting to settle down. The Professors were starting to severely punish the older students that get involved in the rivalry. The Weasley Twins had apparently been in tears as McGonagall confiscated all their ingredients and prank items after they dismissed her warnings. They honestly looked pitiful for the days afterwards.

As for the Gryffindor first years, with Longbottom being too busy with his Quidditch position, they stopped instigating things, which made Malfoy feel like he had won. It was sad that he didn't know that it was all probably designed by the teachers to stop Hogwarts from turning into a battleground. Still, things were starting to calm down, and Hogwarts was beginning to turn into a normal school.
 
Chapter 27 & 28: Family Magic & Magic Crests
Chapter 27: Family Magic

13 October 1991, Hogwarts

As for the Gryffindor first years, with Longbottom being too busy with his Quidditch position, they stopped instigating things, which made Malfoy feel like he had won. It was sad that he didn't know that it was all probably designed by the teachers to stop Hogwarts from turning into a battleground. Still, things were starting to calm down, and Hogwarts was beginning to turn into a normal school.

Harry returned to the common room with his Slytherin classmates. He had come to a certain understanding with Granger but dealing with her was exhausting. It wasn't anything bad, but Harry felt more like he was indulging her than hanging out with her. She wasn't really a bad person. She just didn't know how to talk with people. To be fair, Harry didn't know how to talk with people either, but he knew how to fake it. He still didn't understand how he ended up having friends, but he was grateful for them.

When he arrived in the common room, Harry removed another book and started reading it. Tracy rolled her eyes, "How you weren't sorted in Ravenclaw, I have no idea."

"Well, it's not like I convinced the hat to put me here or something. I just let it do its thing," Harry said while looking up from his book.

Blaise responded, "Thank Merlin, it put you here. Could you imagine any other house suffering you? You would have driven them mad in a month."

The Malfoy scion seemed to have been listening to their conversation, and interjected, "Would have been a good riddance if you ask me."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "It's rude to interrupt other people's conversation, Draco. I would have hoped that your parents would have taught you some manners."

"At least I have parents. I bet you don't even know your family's rituals for the Samhain ceremony. I bet you're afraid. I heard that it hurts the more you have muggle blood running through your veins." Draco replied smugly.

Harry honestly had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but Daphne and Blaise looked furious. Tracy, on the other hand, looked as confused as he was. Choosing not to the asshole have the last word, "Honestly Draco, you were in tears when you were hit with a stinging hex by Longbottom. I doubt our definition of pain is close to one another."

The boy huffed, "You won't be as smart when you're deemed unworthy in front of everyone."

The blonde then turned and left without saying a word. Harry still had no clue what he was eluding to. He did keep his questions to himself; he didn't want any of the Slytherin to realize that he was raised by muggles. It would be the closest thing to being a muggleborn in Slytherin, and Harry didn't want to risk it.

So, he stayed silent, and thankfully, Daphne spoke up, "Are any of you scared about Samhain?"

Blaise nodded, "A bit, but I heard that while it hurts, it's worth it."

Tracy was the one that exploded, "What the hell are you on about? What's happening on Samhain?"

Daphne and Blaise's eyes widened, "Sorry, sometimes we forget that you're not from an old lineage. The Samhain after the start of a child's Hogwarts education is where the crest ceremony is held. They're sort of the unlocking of the family magic. Although don't really ask anyone about it, it's sort of taboo."

Blaise continued, "Every family sort of has a crest that is passed to their descendants. It's proof that you're a member of the family. Getting accepted to magic school is the first step to being declared a wizard member of the family. I heard that the crest hurts when it's unlocked but those were some rumours. Otherwise, crests can contain a lot of stuff inside, which depends entirely on what your ancestors put inside. Either way, you never ask anyone about their crests. You'll probably never have one since your family is so young and none of your ancestors built a crest for their descendants."

Harry nodded as if he already knew all of this. Tracy, though, looked thoughtful, "So, when Malfoy was insulting Harry about his family crest…"

"He was telling him that he was unworthy of his legacy because his mother was a muggleborn. There are a few crests like that, that won't be unlocked if they're not pureblood enough, or sometimes there are a few 'worthiness' enchantments that let someone only unlock only a part of the crest. It really depends on the maker." Daphne explained.

"But Harry has to be worthy…" Tracy protested.

"As flattered as I am by your faith in me, I won't know until Samhain. Do either of you know where we're doing the ceremony?" Harry responded for the first time.

Blaise responded, "I asked one of the prefects, and he said they had a special ceremonial ritual room where they hold it every year."

Harry simply nodded and started to think. He had never in his life heard anything about magic crests. It wasn't in any of the books he had read. It made sense that they weren't in the Muggleborn introduction books, since they wouldn't really need to know it. These books were mostly centred on how the government worked and the currencies, and so on. Old family magic was not something that they needed to know. But still, there had been no mentions of magical crests in any of the books he had read from the library, and in over six weeks, he had read enough to get a general idea about what it meant to be living in the magical world.

He needed to research this quickly, understand how they worked, and before Halloween, that's for sure. He couldn't waste any time. He sure as hell wasn't going to participate in a ceremony that he didn't understand.

He needed to get to the library, and he needed to do it quickly. The following day, which happened to be a Saturday, Harry went up to the great hall, ate his breakfast, and went to the library. He didn't even wait for his friends to get up, consumed with his search. He couldn't say to anyone what he was looking for, considering the issue was as sensitive as Blaise and Daphne made it out to be. He walked into the library, ignoring any of the casting magic sections and towards the history section.

Four hours later, he had found exactly nothing. No one had written anything about magical crests. They were probably in the restricted section, away from any curious student that might end up getting killed.

Truthfully, Harry looked at books about lineages, about entire magical dynasties and bloodlines, but while there were mentions of magical crests, they always assumed that the reader knew what they were. The book 'The Second Goblin Rebellion of the Middle Ages' said something about a Leo Black, that was able to massacre thousands of enemies thanks to the power of the crest of the Black Family.

This wasn't normal. Magical Crests were a sensitive topic, but not enough to barely mention in the history books. Someone had to be removing every book with any information about magical crests, either putting them in the restricted section or removing them outright from the library.

Harry needed to know, he needed to understand. It ate at him, that someone was actively preventing him from understanding his legacy, of what it meant to be a Potter. By the end of the day, Harry had decided that the library didn't have any information about magical crests and their unlocking. Hell, Harry didn't even know if the Potter family had a magical crest in the first place. And so, he went to the only place he knew could help him, the place that helps all Hogwarts students when they need it. The Room of Requirements.

The young Potter was honestly wary of getting there, or perhaps, he just didn't need it. There was no one stopping him from learning magic as he saw fit, not experimenting on it. He was too much of a beginner to need to practice in a specialized room to train and experiment. Harry was holding off the room to explore properly when he would have needed it.

And while the room of hidden things was a very attractive place to search for old books and artefacts, it was an endless room with things thrown away by students for centuries. He needed to have a grounding in curse breaking to avoid getting cursed by the random crap that was in the room. Harry had no wish to endanger his life for no reason, not when he could put it off when the room wouldn't be a danger anymore.

Still, Harry had no choice, and thus walked to the seventh floor right after dinner and towards the moving tapestry of a man trying to teach trolls how to dance ballet. If that was a thing then the man was either crazy or an idiot. He turned to the wall in front of the tapestry with his heart beating loudly. He sincerely hoped that the room would be there.

He walked past the room three times while thinking, "I need a place that would teach me about magical crests and family magic. I need a place that would teach me about magical crests and family magic. I need a place that would teach me about magical crests and family magic."

By his third time passing the wall, a door started to materialize from the previously empty wall. It didn't look particularly grand, just like the door of any of the classrooms. Slowly, Harry opened it and got inside.

Harry was surprised when he saw the interior of the room. It wasn't some grand magical room as he expected, just a cosy room with a comfortable sofa, a chair and a small desk. There was a single book on the desk titled, 'Sê sweotolung râd wyrt−rum lybcræft'.

Fuck, the book was written in old English. The damn book looked older than the castle. Harry mentally asked the room to translate it, but it didn't work. He tried to summon another book, to no avail. Just to make sure that the room still worked, he summoned an extra chair that materialized in seconds. He really needed to understand the capabilities of the room.

Instead, Harry asked for a book that would help him translate Old English. Luckily, there seemed to be a book on translation spells, and a few common spells that seemed easy enough to cast. And yet, after dozens of tries for many spells, even ones specializing in Old English, nothing happened. Harry felt the spells wash over the book, and yet they didn't seem to hold.

Curiously enough, Harry didn't feel any magic in the book, which should have been his first instinct that there was something wrong with it. Considering that Old English stopped being used centuries ago, the book should have looked far more told if it didn't have any preservation spells. Harry would need a dictionary to work in his free time to translate this, at least to get an idea of what the book is talking about. It would take days, if not weeks, but if he worked hard on it, Harry was optimistic that he would at least get enough information to deal with the Samhain ceremony.

Knowing that he couldn't take the book outside the room, Harry brought out one of his never-ending empty notebooks that he owl ordered a couple of weeks before. He had an empty one and used a spell on his quill to copy the book's content. He was half expecting it to fail, considering how his previous spells failed as well.

But it worked. The Quill copy spell was a spell of Harry's own creation, devised from the charms on a note-taking quill he had bought. However, instead of copying the book, the quill detected the parts of the book that were not blank and rewrote them in the target parchment. Harry had used this trick to bypass the ant-copying wards on the books in the library. The only issue was that the method was slow.

By the time the book had finished being written, it was almost curfew. Still, Harry had a complete physical copy of the book the Room had picked for him and had tinkered with his modified Contego spell a little more. Before leaving the room, Harry pointed his wand at his book and cast the translation spell. Suddenly, the words of the parchment shuffled around and turned into 'An Explanation of Family Magics.'

Harry grinned to himself as he went back to his common room before Filch would find him. It had taken him the entire day, but he had found what he was looking for.


Chapter 28: Magic Crests

15 October 1991, Hogwarts

Although Harry wanted nothing more than to devour the book in his hands, he needed to get back to the common room as soon as possible. He was already very close to missing curfew, and he definitely didn't need the fourth years and sixth years on his case for losing points because he was too impatient to read the book in the common room.

Still, he was glad to have found the book, or at least beat the challenge needed to do it. Harry was very glad to have modified the charms on the self-writing quill to copy books. Honestly, it was a challenge to see if he could find a way to bypass the wards on the book without actually breaking them. Oh, it was very slow, but it was better than having to explain to Madam Pince why he needed advanced books from the library.

It was an extremely good achievement, especially after only a month and a half of magical learning. If it wasn't for him cheating with his magical hearing, he would have never even come close to modifying a spell to that extent. Honestly, it was unfair how good Harry was at magic compared to his classmates. But if there's something Harry knew for a fact was that people were not born equal.

Harry slowly snuck down in the night to the dungeons and barely missed curfew. Thankfully, he was able to make it in time, but he had practically run the entire way to the common room.

As soon as Harry arrived, he was accosted by his friends. Blaise practically ran towards him, "Where the hell have you been?"

Choosing not to answer any uncomfortable question, Harry simply put his hands in his pocket and shrugged, "I got lost on the path of life."

That seemed to make him and the girls speechless. They just gaped at the young Potter unable to muster a response for a good minute until Tracy blew up, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU GOT LOST ON THE ROAD OF LIFE??"

Harry again shrugged, "Maaa, Tracy, don't get so worked up. I just decided to explore the castle a bit, walking around aimlessly, getting lost in the beautiful path that is life, letting the currents take me away and lead me."

"So, you explored the castle for the whole day?" Daphne responded with a deadpan tone.

"Well, I did at first, then I went to the library for a bit, and then I was just going to find you guys but then a black cat crossed my path, so I had to take the long way round. I somehow ended up in the Astronomy tower since the cat just wouldn't leave me alone. Then an insane knight called Sir Cadogan said that this was the same cat that led him to his death, which is why I just kept trying to escape its grasp." Harry elaborated.

"You could have used a spell to make it go away," Blaise remarked.

"And risk hurting such a cute little kitten just because of its colour. That's very racist of you, Blaise." The green-eyed boy remarked with a sly grin on his face.

"Racist," the boy thundered, "Harry, I swear to Merlin…"

Daphne just hit the boy in the shoulder, "He's messing with you, you idiot."

"Well, it's still not a nice thing to do. We still don't know what he was doing?" Blaise answered with a pout.

Harry gave his friend a grin, "I wasn't really lying. I explored the castle for a bit, went to the library to research a spell I was trying out, then finished my assignments for the weekend, and practised a bit of charms. I kinda lost myself in a book before I realized what time it was, and ran back here."

Blaise gave him a glare, "You could have just said that. What's with the whole black cat story and the road of life stuff?"

"Oh, I just wanted to see your reactions. I have to say that I wasn't disappointed," Harry replied with a smug grin.

"You're a jerk, Harry," Tracy grumbled at him.

Harry just laughed and they all continued the night with their usual nightly conversations. The young Potter almost forgot about the book. Almost, being the key word. He had tried to read the book before going to bed but he realized why translation spells weren't commonly used. Yeah, the spell worked but that didn't mean that it worked well.

The spell seemed to have categorized the words in each language and just mapped them together, grammar be damned. Oh, there was a semblance of sense there somewhere, but not enough to be read casually. Honestly, it reminded him of when he had tried to translate entire articles using online translators. It made the text understandable, but only after some effort trying to decode it.

Reading the translated book will require patience and hard work, and Harry was too tired after an entire day of researching for such an undertaking, which is why he just went to bed.

The very next day, Harry exited the room before his classmates and took an early breakfast, choosing to read the book in the library and take some notes as well.

He was done by the end of the day and the content was really dry. Honestly, Harry didn't understand a lot of the technical magical theory inside, but he at least understood the premise of magical crests and a basic understanding of how the Samhain ritual worked.

Well, magical crests were amazing inventions that became popular after the burning of the library of Alexandria and became commonplace for practically all influential magical families in Europe after the fall of Rome. Crests existed far before, but during these events, many magical families were either massacred, and their libraries were also pilfered by the invaders. So, measures were taken so that magic wouldn't be lost once more.

To be perfectly honest, magical crests were repositories of magical knowledge that is passed down in the bloodline. With every birth, a smaller crest is born, but the archive of magic can only be used by the head of the family, whose crest tended to act as a control one. Usually, the head of house only allows his heir access to the knowledge within, in case a member of the family chooses to marry into another one or is just punished. Every member of the family that could add something to the magic – by creating a new spell, brewing a new potion, and so on – would record it into the crests for no reason.

However, the way they are designed almost guarantees that any possible blood relation would be able to inherit the crests in case a family is massacred and thus, the knowledge wouldn't be lost. However, these crests need to be activated first to formally be part of the family. They are activated when a member gets his own wand and waits until the age of thirteen for it to integrate into the child's magic. Afterwards, the magic will slowly trickle in, allowing the heirs to access to gradually learn their personal magic until the age of seventeen when the magical archive is entirely made available to the heirs.

It was the way old families safeguarded their personal spells and magical discoveries while making them available for their descendants. Books could be stolen, and the spells inside could be replicated, but with a crest, no one would be able to access them.

Although, magical crests don't need to only have information inside. There were theories in the book about people putting artefacts and family heirlooms inside the crests to make sure that they are not stolen. However, Harry had no idea how that worked, and he wasn't eager to find out. Yeah, the young Slytherin was advanced for his age, but not enough to mess with things like that. Some of the conceptual crap that came with making a magical crest, was very hard to understand especially when he had a hard time understanding the introductory chapters because of how the translation spell worked.

If he needed to mess with magical crests in general, he would need to learn Old English, and that was an undertaking on its own. Harry decided to put it into the back of his mind, and only do it if he finds out more knowledge of magic written only in this language. He was already learning Latin on his own, adding in another dead language just wouldn't be fun. Especially with how much he's probably going to memorize during his Runes Electives, he wouldn't want to burn out, would he?

Still, the upcoming Samhain ritual wasn't really a ritual, not in the classical term. Technically speaking, a ritual is the predecessor to wand spells that are more art than science. They heavily involved runes and sacrifices to shape and channel the magic, which didn't make it any better or worse than using a wand. It was just so much harder than wands simply became commonly used.

No, the Samhain ritual was just an unlocking. It didn't really have to happen in Samhain, only for the subject to drink a potion that relaxes the magical flow and for an outsider of casting the standardized spell to unlock the crest, which already existed connected to their magic in a dormant state. The crests didn't need to be unlocked on Samhain, only for the subject to be between the ages of eleven and thirteen.

The experience is widely considered to be unpleasant, from irritating to agonizing. It depended on both the wizard and the crest, and it was impossible to know how it would work. There were also a few peculiarities that came with every crest. Sometimes the creator of the crests adds in a little extra condition to inheriting parts of the family archives. Sometimes a crest would be barely more than a small peculiarity for generations only for a descendant to fully unlock it later.

However, that wasn't the same as family magic. The spells inside a crest could be replicated if one knew the theory. Family magic was unique for everyone who had it and was built on the dedication of an entire magical line to a certain field of magic until it became a part of their own blood. After centuries, the families start to develop certain traits that naturally came to be. Things like mage sight, metamorphmagus and Parseltongue, occurred either naturally or with some large-scale ritual to be passed down from parent to child, and no one would be able to speak it. There is a reason why Parseltongue was so revered in pureblood circles. These abilities are the epitome of what made a magical family prestigious.

Honestly, Harry didn't know if the Potter family had a magical crest, but it's most likely true. There was no risk to trying it if he didn't have one, but in the house of the snake, it would be akin to being a second-class citizen.

The young Potter sincerely hoped that he would end up having a crest, if only for the potential spell available inside. At least, now, Harry understood what Blaise and Daphne were talking about when they referred to the Samhain ritual. He probably even knew more than them thanks to the book.

In the end, Harry would need to wait until the end of the month to figure out more. However, he put the issue to the back of his mind. His curiosity was now abated, and he had more assignments to finish to compensate for the research time he used up the previous day. Afterwards, well, he did promise that he would spend the day with his friends, after all.
 
Chapter 29 & 30: A Friend in Me & Samhain Excitement
Chapter 29: A Friend in Me

25 October 1991, Hogwarts

In the end, Harry would need to wait until the end of the month to figure out more. However, he put the issue to the back of his mind. His curiosity was now abated, and he had more assignments to finish to compensate for the research time he used up the previous day. Afterwards, well, he did promise that he would spend the day with his friends, after all.

The week following Harry's discovery of family crests passed in a strange monotony that was very contradictory to Hogwarts' very nature. It was the calm before the storm, Harry could feel it in his bones. Everything was too quiet, too normal. The whole Gryffindor Slytherin rivalry turned into a strained peace practically overnight. The Weasley Twins stopped pranking anyone, there were few duels and hexes thrown around. Honestly, the young Potter thought that it was too good to be true. He was waiting for the shoe to drop.

As for Harry, he just spent his time either experimenting with his magic or hanging out with his friends. Nothing particularly interesting happened, except for him finding an obscure book on illusions in the library, which he quickly copied using his spell.

The book copying spell that Harry invented must have been one of the most useful things he ever created. Oh, it wasn't anything impressive, and any student with talent in spell creation and the dedication to study it thoroughly would have been able to make it. Although Harry did cheat using his magical hearing to bridge the knowledge gap to craft the spell. It wasn't even a complete spell. It needed to be cast on a self-writing quill, anyway, just turning the dictation aspect to a visual one to be able to scan the pages for it to copy. How people didn't try it out before, Harry didn't know.

Perhaps, people did invent it, but the industry made sure that no one knew of the spell. It couldn't exactly be warded against since the doesn't technically even affect the book in any way. Oh, it could probably do nothing about illustrations since they're animated, and Harry didn't know how to enchant a Quill to draw animated images. He didn't even try to look it up; he knew that it was out of his league.

Still, since most books do not actually have important illustrations, it wasn't that big of a deal. In a way, it was the way Harry was able to have a copy of each book he had read in the library in his everlasting notebook he bought. He had no idea if there was a limit on the pages it could have, and he was probably going to figure it out eventually. In the end, the book would also make sure that he wouldn't need to bother with library deadlines since he stopped actually taking out the books. Madam Pince had thankfully allowed the use of enchanted Quills and inks in the library, as long as they don't endanger the books – which happen to be warded with countless preservation spells.

However, while Harry was proud of his first true original spell, it didn't come close to his fascination with the subject he had just uncovered. The art of illusions was just that, an art. There weren't any spells like most of the magic, only a single one. 'Lux Dolum' was a generalized small-scale illusion spell that can be used depending on the user's imagination. Oh, it was only light illusions, that could be broken by touch or magic. There were similar spells to fool each sense as well any combination of them. It was a book on generalized spells that resembled the minor inanimate transfiguration generalized spell he blundered into creating on his first day.

This was the first time during any of Harry's daily trips to the library that he had seen anything resembling the generalized spells that McGonagall referred to in his first transfiguration class.

Honestly, he loved that spell. He could practice it anytime without anyone saying anything since there isn't an actual spell burst when he used it, so no one noticed. He started with small things and continued enough to get the illusions to be as big as him. That seemed to be the limit of both his abilities and the spell itself. There was also a law of magical intent to be considered where the larger a scale of a spell is, the more difficult it is to control. For illusions, control was a must, and so the biggest illusions tend to be very easily recognizable where small ones were almost indistinguishable.

Still, this was an art that Harry wanted to master completely. He planned to cast all kinds of illusions – visual, auditory, olfactory, etc. – even the mental ones, although the skill in Occlumency needed to do so would be problematic. Oh, Harry of course wanted to learn how to protect his mind, and maybe even how to read others but he wasn't able to find a single book on the mind arts, apart from a few books on compulsion charms.

Considering that this was supposed to be the biggest magical library in the nation, either that title was simply a misdirection or someone had removed all the books – or put them in the restriction section which was very understandable considering their potential for abuse.

Nevertheless, Harry was happy for now. He needed to master the basics before worrying about secret knowledge in the restricted section. The room of requirements would probably help him with that, but Harry was wary of it. The temptation of secret knowledge, of discovering the capabilities of the room, was simply too attractive, but for all its wonder, the room of hidden things contained countless objects whose owner wanted to get rid of, meaning that the number of cursed items was probably abnormally high.

Harry had no wish to die to his own hubris.

Alas, Samhain was approaching, and Harry and the rest of the Slytherin first years were obviously nervous, and truthfully, so was Harry. The ritual weighed a great deal on his mind, especially in regard to the unpredictability of crests' activations in general. No two people ever said the same thing about how it felt.

Currently, Harry was trying to analyze a generalized auditory illusion spell, which was a fancy word for a noise spell. Although he liked auditory illusion spells better – even if musicians often used it to compose songs. Still, it was far more complicated than the light illusion spell since it was very difficult to master. It couldn't even muffle noise in any way, only create noise, not manipulate it. Perhaps analyzing a silencing charm and integrating it into the spell could help create a new spell? It was way out of his league for now, but Harry could see the potential of such a combination.

Harry started writing small arithmetic calculations to see the viability of this theory. He was so focused on his calculations that he hadn't noticed a bushy haired Gryffindor sneak a peek at his work. "What are you doing?" the girl asked.

The last Potter stiffened and shot up, "Granger, it's nice to see you."

The girl gave him an intense look, "What are you doing?"

Harry pretended to be unconcerned, "Learning magic, of course."

The glare that the girl had given him was as threatening as a small kitten, still, Harry started to fear that the girl would have a stroke or something and so he snorted, "I'm trying to learn a sound making spell that I found."

The Gryffindor tilted her head, "But what were you scribbling about?"

"Just the arithmetic formula of the spell. I found it in the book and wanted to study it…"

"You know arithmancy?" the girl shrieked.

Harry shushed her, "We're in the library, Granger, keep your voice down. Do you want Madam Pince to ban us for life?"

The Slytherin had to stifle a chuckle when he saw the horrified look on her face. The girl hit him on the shoulder and whispered, "You know arithmancy?"

"I was bored before Hogwarts, so I taught myself advanced mathematics just to pass the time. With that as a base, it didn't take me long to get a feel for the basics of Arithmancy and how it worked. I'm still a beginner but it's very interesting. Whenever I learn a new spell, I write down its formula and try to understand it. It doesn't work most of the time, but after a while, you start to notice patterns which helps during casting."

The girl gave Harry an odd look, "Do you think you could teach me?"

Huh, teaching was always a passion of Harry's in his past life. He enjoyed his job immensely, and there was this sense of satisfaction at the thought of helping someone build a passion for his subject. Hermione Granger was an ideal student; she was hungry for knowledge and wouldn't mind working hard for it. If she was taught how to be more selective with her learning, she could grow into a formidable witch. Honestly, if Harry was older, he wouldn't mind tutoring her, but he wasn't and he barely scratched the surface of the potential of magic, and he knew it.

"I don't think I know enough to teach you, to be honest. We've only been there for less than two months; I don't have a good enough grounding in magic to teach anyone anything," Harry replied, "But there's no reason for me to not answer any question you might have, or help you with a topic you're researching."

The girl looked downcast but brightened at his offer. She leapt and enveloped him into a hug, "Thank you, thank you."

The girl then quickly released Harry and blushed in embarrassment as if realizing what she had just done. Harry couldn't stifle his amusement anymore and snickered at her behaviour.

The girl sent a glare without any heat in it, "Git!"

Harry continued snickering and was joined later by Hermione as well. After a minute, they both calmed down, but Harry noticed that Hermione was still melancholic, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Be as smart as you are, and still have friends?" the girl elaborated.

Harry hummed in thought, "I don't know. I never had a friend before here. They just felt boring, if you know what I mean. It was like their priorities didn't make sense. I've never been the best with people, and I expected nothing better when I came here. Then Blaise sat in my compartment, and we were sorted in the same house. We just stuck together, and then Tracy and Daphne joined us. I didn't plan it. And I still don't really understand how we became friends, but I'm not complaining about it."

"Do you think I'll ever have a friend?" the girl asked with a vulnerable tone.

"I don't see why not. You're smart, funny, and a little bit of a stickler for the rules, but it's nothing horrifying. Although, you might scare people by how much you keep correcting them. It makes you look a bit condescending, but I honestly don't care." Harry replied.

The Gryffindor seemed to get herself ready for something before she steeled herself and spoke up, "Would you be my friend?"

Harry really should refuse. If any Slytherin ever realized about him being friends with a Muggleborn Gryffindor, then he would be in big trouble. For all the surprising lack of bigotry in the common room, Muggleborns weren't looked at favourably by Slytherins in general. It would practically destroy any standing he might have with his peers or even when he starts playing house politics when he's older.

Still, Harry couldn't bear to destroy the sheer hope shining brightly in the girl's eyes, "Alright, Granger. I guess we're friends now."

The girl had small tears in her eyes and a small yet blinding smile on her face, "Thank you so much."

After she enveloped him with another hug, they looked at each other for a few minutes awkwardly. Harry just sighed, "I wasn't lying when I said I was horrible at this."

The girl snorted, "Yeah, we both are. Have you started to transfiguration assignment yet? There's something that's still troubling me…"

The conversation flowed from there. And hours later, when Harry went to bed, he thought of the bushy-haired girl with fondness and realized that he had fun just talking with her about magic and their classes. What an odd turn of events.




Chapter 30: Samhain Excitement

31 October 1991, Hogwarts

After that fateful day, Harry and Hermione started a tentative friendship. They met practically every day in the library and spent a couple of hours discussing books and classes. Sometimes, they just stayed quiet, reading, and just enjoying their company in general. Harry found that the girl was strangely mature in some areas, yet absolutely childish in others. She was as hopeless as he was when it came to social situations, but unlike him, she was also almost desperate to please people.

The trick was to use logic against her when she's being stubborn. Hermione respected logic more than anything, which would have been a great thing in muggle school. He could easily see the girl becoming a famous surgeon or a researcher, but magic spat in the face of logic. Oh, she could memorize spells and magical laws, and she could probably succeed in her life, but as long as she keeps theorizing magic in a logical manner, she will never step out of the cage she built herself. She will only experience a fraction of what magic was, and that was a tragedy. Harry has tried many times to explain the symbolisms and chaos that magic represented, but she didn't even try to understand.

Still, Harry enjoyed her company and was starting to see her as much of a friend as Blaise, Tracy, and Daphne. He didn't even hang out less with his housemates because he only hung out with Hermione during his usual library time. And normal eleven-year-olds would do their best to avoid reading dusty old tomes for hours.

Although Harry did put his foot down with a few ground rules, such as no one knowing about their friendship, because of what might happen if the other Slytherins knew of them. But the girl didn't care as long as he didn't use her to get out of doing homework.

Harry woke up this morning feeling apprehensive. It was Samhain, or Halloween as it was being celebrated currently. The entire castle smelt of baked pumpkin and spices. Honestly, he wouldn't have minded if it wasn't for the fact that this was an insult to the original ceremonies. Magic goes into certain cycles depending on the seasons, and certain dates. Samhain is the day of the dead, where the veil between the living and their lost ones is at its thinnest. It's known as one of the most intimate ceremonies in the magical world, and Dumbledore's reforms had turned it into the muggle holiday about pumpkins and candy.

The sad thing was that most of the school didn't even realize it. Their parents were pushed towards celebrating Halloween, that they didn't even think of teaching the traditional holidays to their children. It was disgusting and the atmosphere in Slytherin reflected this as they sneered in disgust at the orange decorations and carved pumpkins. It was a direct insult to their heritage, and one of the biggest reasons muggleborns are discriminated against by the old families.

Thankfully, the first year Slytherins brightened up when Flitwick revealed that they would be learning the levitation charm. Making things float was one of the most basic skills any wizard needed, and it was a very common spell that everyone was excited about. As expected, Flitwick demonstrated the spell by levitating Perk's toad and the pile of books on his desk.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Harry's partner was Blaise, which was a nice break from being forced to partner with Hermione. The girl was nice and everything, but she always tried to admonish him whenever he tried to experiment.

Harry pointed his wand at the feather in front of him, "Wingardium Leviosa".

As he expected, the feather started to float up and down following the movement of his wand. It wasn't actually that difficult, and Harry had learnt this spell in his first week in Hogwarts. It was actually part of a family of spells, that dealt with the telekinetic movement of objects. Of course, the spell only worked by levitating the object up and down depending on where the wand pointed. It's not permanent and it can't go left or right. It was just that, a levitation spell.

Its sister charm, the Levioso charm was a spell that levitated an object for a selective amount of time – which depended on the power of the spell – making it easy to cast other spells at the object since it doesn't need to be constantly reapplied.

Harry did learn a lot of telekinetic spells from that family because of their usefulness, and had tried to craft a general telekinetic spell, but failed miserably at it. It was a long-term project anyway, but such a spell could be very powerful in both daily use and combat.

Blaise looked exasperated at him when he got it on his first try and tried to cast the spell again, which failed, to the frustration of the young boy.

No one seemed to have done the same, and Harry let his feather float down and looked at Blaise, "Make sure that you coordinate the spells and wand movements. And don't forget to picture the feather floating in your mind."

After a few tries, the boy's feather twitched and with the blinding smile he returned Harry had made it all worth it. Harry returned it, "Keep practising, it's how you'll get better."

The young Potter turned to see what was happening. All the students were glaring at their feathers while yelling the incantation. Seamus Finnigan, which had partnered with Longbottom, ended up somehow burning his feather, and the professor had run to stop the fire from spreading.

Next to them, was Ron Weasley that was partnering with Hermione. Both of them looked miserable. Weasley kept foundering about making nonsensical wand movements and mispronouncing the incantation. Honestly, that boy had a mismatched wand that was so worn down that the unicorn hair was slightly visible on the top. The boy had very little hope to succeed as a wizard by using a wand like that. And it was proof of the Weasley family's favouritism of his older siblings that they gave Percy a new owl and robes for being a prefect and didn't even give Ron a proper wand to learn magic.

The boy was practically shouting in Hermione's ear, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The girl seemed to snap at his spitting, "You're saying it wrong. It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Her feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

She turned and gave Ron a smug smile and he glowered at her. Longbottom sent a stinging jinx at her back when the professor turned when Malfoy called for him. By the end of the classroom, Neville and Weasley were still very angry.

The redhead loudly complained, "It's no wonder no one can stand her, she's a nightmare, honestly."

Longbottom burst into laughter at that remark, which made the rest of the first year Gryffindor follow his lead. Of course, Hermione had heard him, and she ran away with tears visible in her eyes.

Harry looked at his friends, "I'm going to the bathroom. Save me a seat in McGonagall's class."

They nodded and walked to the transfiguration classroom, while Harry followed his crying friends to the girls' bathroom. She was sitting on the floor sobbing her eyes out. He cleared his throat making the girl stiffen, then relax when she saw him, "What are you doing here, Harry? This is the girls' bathroom."

"I'm checking in on you, silly. I have to say that you don't look good."

The girl snorted, "Yeah. I guess I don't."

"Come on. You can't say that Weasley of all people made you cry. The only people I know that are dumber than him are Crabbe and Goyle."

"But he's right," Hermione protested, "No one likes me. I don't have any friends, and everyone laughed at the joke. I thought that it would be different here, that I wouldn't be as lonely as I was in the muggle world."

"Magic or not, humans are humans. Magical children are just as dumb as muggle ones. And come on, I like you well enough, and we already said that we're friends." Harry said, trying to console her.

"Look Harry, it's not the same and you know it. Sure, we talk a bit every day, but we don't hang out. I'm a Gryffindor and you're a Slytherin. For Merlin's sake, Harry, you don't even want people to know that we're friends. You're my friend, and I'm happy about it, but I'm still lonely."

Harry struggled to answer that. He couldn't really say that he was enough since he really only talks to her a few hours a day about schoolwork. Oh, they liked each other well enough, but the house rivalry was a big wall stopping their relationship from progressing any further than study buddies.

The young Potter deflated, "I see your point, and it's not impossible for you to not have any friends, they don't have to be from your house. Try befriending the Ravenclaws, they're nice enough, and I know that Padma Patil is a lot more interesting than her sister."

Yeah, Harry did talk to the girl a few times. He was curious about how magic in India worked and was disappointed to see that it was somewhat similar. Apparently, the colonization of the country happened in the magical world and muggle one as well, and the Indians adopted the British magical ways. She did mention that there were a few tribes and monasteries that still practised the 'Old Ways', whatever that meant.

Hermione seemed to brighten up slightly, "I guess I could. I never really talked to them before."

"Now, come on, we're going to miss Transfiguration if we stay here."

"I don't feel like going, to be honest," the Gryffindor protested.

Harry didn't know what to say to tell her to come to the feast. According to the stories, she would be attacked by a troll during the feast, but he couldn't guarantee that Longbottom and Weasley would be able to save her, or if they would even try to go after her in the first place.

"You sure you don't want to come?" Harry asked.

The girl nodded, "Yeah, there's some thinking I want to do."

The Slytherin nodded solemnly and went to Transfiguration class. He didn't even pay attention during the class, distracted by what might happen to his friend. Hermione didn't turn up, and Harry didn't see her all afternoon.

When evening came, Harry went to the great hall with his friends. Of course, Dumbledore seemed to want to go all out when insulting every traditionalist in the school with countless decorations and animated monsters.

Yet, Harry was still worried for his friend and the danger she might be in. Fortunately, Harry relaxed when he saw that Professor Quirrell was sitting on the high table talking enthusiastically with Professor Sprout. Perhaps, the man wouldn't be releasing a troll in the castle, and Hermione would be safe. The stories were somewhat unreliable after all.

Of course, that hope was dashed when Harry saw Filch, the caretaker, slam open the hall doors and sprint into the hall with an expression of terror on his face, "Troll – in the school grounds – thought you ought to know."

The man then sank to the floor in a dead faint and with him any hope he had that Hermione would be safe.
 
Chapter 31 & 32: Troll & Samhain Rituals
Chapter 31: Troll

31 October 1991, Hogwarts

Of course, that hope was dashed when Harry saw Filch, the caretaker, slam open the hall doors and sprint into the hall with an expression of terror on his face, "Troll – in the school grounds – thought you ought to know." The man then sank to the floor in a dead faint and with him any hope he had that Hermione would be safe.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Well, that was a stupid idea. The Great Hall was a fortified position, and any competent adult professor should be able to defeat a troll easily, in case it attacked. That would leave the other staff members to hunt down the trolls and look for any missing students, like Hermione.

Of course, the prefects started yelling about trying to get a semblance of order. Each prefect seemed to be responsible for a year. The sixth-year prefect boy was shouting, "Follow me! Stick together, first-years! Make way, first-years coming through! Prefect coming through! Excuse me! First-years! Prefect!"

The sad thing was it didn't work, which wasn't really unexpected considering that this was a single teenager that's responsible for a dozen of scared students that he doesn't know in the middle of a chaotic great hall where everyone is running around like headless chickens.

Honestly, the moment they left the Great Hall, everyone was practically lost in the endless crowd of students. However, Harry was mostly worried about his crying friend that was fated to be attacked by the troll in another life.

Harry ducked down, becoming invisible in the crowd, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off to the bathroom he knew Hermione was crying in earlier. He ran towards it and that was when the smell hit him. It smelt more like old unwashed socks mixed with a dirty toilet smell. It was a foul stench and Harry resisted the urge to gag and throw up.

The troll was near, and he needed to get Hermione out of there. He ran inside the classroom to see a hysterical Hermione that seem to have been catatonic while the troll loomed in front of her. The troll was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

But what was breathtaking was the troll's song. Harry had never listened to the song of a magical creature, at least not closely. The song was dull, repetitive, and slow, but also strong. It felt like a slow set of drums, with a distinct feeling of rocks and mountains. Oh, it was savage, but it felt more like a brute than anything else.

But this was not the time for contemplation, and with a flick of his wrist, Hermione was pushed away from the creature and into one of the stalls. He really needed to find a way to get Hermione out of there.

From what he had read about them, trolls didn't have the greatest sense of smell, hence why they were almost extremely smelly. They didn't revel in being dirty or smelly, just didn't particularly care about it.

That meant that the creature mostly relied on sight and hearing. A semblance of a plan started to form in his mind, but it was all ruined when Hermione finally regained her courage and cast, "Flipendo!" at the troll. Of course, the creature barely blinked at the spell hit its head and splashed back as if nothing happened. What the hell was that girl thinking? Trolls are notoriously known to have magic resistant skin which was why it was recommended to use indirect attacks and not directly cast at them.

The girl froze, as if not believing that her spell didn't work, and Harry did his best to stop the situation but casting, 'Lumos Maxima'.

The spell actually a variation of the Lumos charm without any limitation on the output and where the ball of light can leave the wand and be controlled at the caster's will. Harry moved the ball towards the face of the troll and overpowered the spell massively, blinding the troll, and Hermione as well probably; Harry was closing his eyes in preparation.

The troll screamed in pain, and from the sound of it, Hermione yelped. Again, Harry pushed her into the stall and weaved the biggest illusion he could manage around himself and Hermione's stall. The troll blinked as he regained his eyesight and looked around probably still looking for Hermione.

Honestly, the young Potter was struggling while maintaining the spell. It wasn't designed to be used on something of this scale, and Harry, while very strong for his age, is still not strong enough for many feats of magic.

The troll sniffed, growled, and prepared to leave. Of course, that was when Longbottom and Weasley barged in with their wands in hand and cast a spell at the troll. Honestly, Harry didn't even see them cast, which was useless since the spells splashed on the creature's magic resistant skin.

However, they seemed to have angered the troll who lashed around with his club and smashed the stall Hermione was under. The girl's scream reassured Harry, and from the look of it, she was able to duck underneath the monster's swing. Longbottom yelled out to Weasley, "Confuse it!"

Harry didn't know what he expected to happen, but it wasn't for Weasley to grab and Dung bomb and send it at the troll's head. The damn creature barely had a sense of smell, but the smoke seemed to hurt the troll's eyes. The bomb seemed to have driven the troll berserk, as it started to stamp around blindingly as if trying to hit an invisible opponent.

Longbottom seemed to realize something, "The eyes, try to send spells at his eyes."

The two boys started to send stinging spells at it, most of the missing, but a few hitting enough for the troll to keep yelling in pain. Honestly, Harry didn't know what he could do. The more the two Gryffindors aggravated the troll, the more violent it became. Hermione looked almost catatonic, so she wouldn't be of any help. Hitting it with its own club was possible but unless it's a straight hit to the head at a certain angle, it was very unlikely for the troll to be knocked out from it.

Although, a hit to the back of the head could be possible. The troll still hadn't realized that he was there, and Harry was hoping for things to stay that way. The young Potter chose to close his eyes and listen to the troll's song. He tried to isolate the song of its skin and found it to be akin to a wall where spells are splashed onto. It was very strong, but songs do have an inverse. Sound can be cancelled. It wasn't anything Harry had done before but he had to try.

Harry listened to the song, understood it, felt all its nuances, its rhythms and emotions, and channelled its complete inverse. Harry was lucky that it was basic in its complexity, yet slightly surprisingly strong. All that meant was that Harry's inverse melody wouldn't be extremely complicated. Slowly, as he pictured the two melodies together, they started to cancel each other out, Harry combined his new song into a spell and murmured, "Petrificus Totalus!".

The troll who was looking at Longbottom, and hence, had his back at Harry, was hit with the spell which didn't splash on his skin like Longbottom and Weasley's spells did. It did seem to hit the troll, who stiffened and seemed to struggle to move. The troll was still able to push Longbottom away, who fell on the ground while wincing.

The spell obviously wasn't perfect, the creature must have some more protection outside his skin, but it was enough, to make it safe to get Hermione and run away, or at least, hit him with his bat in the head.

Funnily enough, Weasley seemed to take that opportunity to finally become useful and cast, "Wingardium Leviosa!' causing the club to fly out of the troll's hand and rose high up into the air, and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry used this chance to get away, not wanting to deal with Longbottom or Weasley. He especially didn't want them to know that he had saved Hermione's life. They would blab out in seconds to their friends, and Harry would need to deal with the aftermath in his own house.

Hermione didn't seem to have noticed him in the start, which was good because she was a terrible liar. Harry ran away from the scene, knowing that the professors weren't that far behind.

He snuck into one of the secret passages towards the dungeon and went to the common room. The moment he arrived he was accosted by his hysterical friends. Daphne was practically hugging him while shaking like a leaf, "Where in Merlin's name were you?"

Harry schooled his features and gave them a lazy grin, "Sorry, you wouldn't believe the traffic. There was this old woman who needed help carrying her groceries, so I couldn't just leave her alone, the poor woman, so, I helped her. She even gave me a piece of pie as a thank you."

"We're in Hogwarts. There are no old ladies carrying groceries here," Tracy answered him with a deadpan look.

"Now, that you mention it, she might have been a painting. Oh, yeah, she was definitely a painting. Her granddaughter was very rather pretty and asked me to dance for her. A lovely young woman." Harry answered wistfully.

Blaise's eye twitch, "So, you're telling me that you were busy helping an old woman in a painting carry her groceries and danced for her granddaughter, and that's why you're late?"

Harry didn't give him an answer and slowly the four friends burst into laughter. These excuses were really good at defusing tense situations. The sheer ridiculousness of them was enough to relax them. After giggling for a bit, Daphne asked, "What were you actually doing?"

Harry shrugged, "I left halfway through the feast to go to the bathroom and then when I went back to the Great Hall, no one was there. So, I just went to the kitchens asked the elves to make me some hot chocolate and walked back here. Why was the Great Hall empty anyway?"

Thankfully, they didn't notice that Harry was there during the feast until Filch came in running. The excitement and panic must have suppressed what happened before.

Tracy seemed very glad to start some gossip, "You don't know? A troll broke into the school grounds and Filch ran in yelling about it before he passed out. Dumbledore told us to come back to our common rooms while the Professors deal with the situation."

Harry gave her a weird look, "Why didn't he just make you stay in the Great Hall? Students could have been attacked on the way to the common room."

The Slytherins stiffened, "I hadn't thought of that…"

Harry shrugged, "Anyway, we're all safe and sound, so let's not think about what could have happened. But now that I think of it, saying that a troll attacked me while I was in the bathroom would be a very good excuse if I'm late."

"I will hurt you, Potter," Daphne answered while growling.

Before he could tease her further, Gemma Farley, the Slytherin fifth year prefect girl spoke up, "First years, I know that things are tense, but this is still Samhain and the ritual is ready. For those that wish to undergo the crest unlocking ceremony, please follow me."

Oh, yeah, he had forgotten about this because of the troll mess.




Chapter 32: Samhain Rituals

31 October 1991, Hogwarts

Harry was too distracted by the possibility of his friend dying to remember that the Crest activation ceremony was today. He had re-read the family magics book about half a dozen times to make sure that he didn't miss anything. Oh, Harry was sure that his classmates had no idea how it worked, certainly less than him at least, but Harry didn't like that the knowledge he found was imprecise, having been translated using a charm and thus had a lot of grammar mistakes and nonsensical sentences.

Even with all his preparations, Harry was still nervous about the ritual. The results were varied, even with people in the same family, but what everyone said was that it was a life-changing experience and that they were fundamentally different because of it. It was that unpredictability that caused Harry to be wary. He would wake up the following day as a different person altogether.

Harry didn't seem to be the only first-year who seemed to be nervous. Everyone seemed to be shaken in some way. Harry's friends looked very pale walking behind Gemma Farley. Even Malfoy, who had proudly announced his superiority because of his family, was practically shaking in fear.

It was probably because he never attended a ritual before. For the crest activation to work, a high amount of ambient foreign magic must be in the body, and an easy way to do that was to participate in one of the rites rituals, and then unlock the crest afterwards. However, before the age of eleven, children were not allowed to attend these rituals because of the chaotic nature of their magic. This was everyone's first ritual and so, even before activating the crest, they had to go through the Samhain rites.

The prefect seemed to have noticed their unease and gave them a soft smile, "Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine."

A few people relaxed but Harry was still apprehensive about the task ahead. He followed Gemma down the stairs. However, the prefect stopped halfway there and pressed a particular brick, "No one is allowed to enter these rooms without the Court's express permission. These rooms are the secondary ritual rooms that are available to the public, but still with the Court's permission of course, and can only be used for the standard rites, like Samhain, Beltane and so on. Should you be lucky enough to join the Court when you're older, you will be allowed to enter the private ritual rooms to do what you wish. The Samhain ritual has been prepared for you, but you will need to learn and perform them yourselves if you wish to participate in another one. Oh, and one final thing, do not tell anyone about these rooms. Dumbledore practically made the old rites illegal, and we don't need some fanatic muggleborn to try to get them banned because it's 'barbaric'. This is a Slytherin house secret. If you break it, you will be punished severely. Do you understand?"

The speech was enrapturing, and Gemma was far different from the way she presented herself on the first day. She was very severe and was practically threatening them into secrecy, although Harry could understand why. Children were children, and he could see Draco prancing about bragging about the fact that Slytherin had ritual rooms to Longbottom in an attempt to make the boy who lived, jealous.

The prefect's face softened at the collective affirmation, "Good. Now, go get ready for the ritual. We have taken the luxury of giving you ritual robes to wear, as well as the customary masks to do so. They will be in your changing rooms. You will find your name written on them. These are provided to you by the seventh year students, the same way you will be required to provide a robe to the first years when you're their age. You have ten minutes to change and come here after which I will escort you to the ritual. You will not wear anything but your robes. So, leave your wands, jewellery, or even underwear in the changing room."

Oh, ritual robes. Harry sort of forgot about them. They were clothes that were designed to be magically inert, so as to not interfere with the ritual. It was a nifty anecdote that people who couldn't afford them had to be naked when participating in a ritual, which thankfully wasn't the case then.

Harry and his classmates went into the changing rooms where he found a piece of parchment with his name on it on top of some black robes. From the look of them, they looked more like what he expected traditional wizarding robes to be. They were barely more than sheets of fabric with sleeves, but Harry knew differently. There was something fundamentally magical about them. Honestly, to his magical hearing, the robes sounded like a tuning fork. They were inert without any drums or melody, but the biggest issue was how they interacted with the environment.

Ambient magic seemed to glide off it. Nothing was truly inert in the world. There were reactions between magic, between songs, and Harry could hear them. But for some reason, the ambient magic seemed to glide off it. Oh, there was probably a limit, and too much direct magic could overwhelm the properties on the robes, but it was a very curious artefact, nonetheless.

The young Potter changed and put his wand with his clothes. He left the changing room with nothing on him but the ritual robes. He was met by the others on the way out. Everyone seemed to have a different ritual robe or at least a style of robes. Harry did look like he had the most basic ones because Blaise's were blue with a few ornaments there. But Malfoy's robe was green with snakes all over it that looked like they were alive. The blonde gave Harry a smug look. The last Potter rolled his eyes; that boy really was extremely spoilt.

When they rejoined Gemma, and he raised an eyebrow at the girls' robes. They looked more like dresses than ritual robes. Gemma, herself, was there, wearing a robe, but also with masks in her hands. They looked green and neutral, and she handed them up in silence.

Harry nodded at her and brought the mask on his head, only to feel it shape itself around his face. He looked around and saw that it was very hard to distinguish his classmates from one another – outside their gender that it.

Gemma then spoke up, "Good. Now, from now on we will not speak until the sun rises. A word of advice, do not resist the magic. It will hurt if you do. Come on let's go."

The first years then followed the prefect to what must have been the ritual room. The marble ground was cold to their naked feet. They walked up a flight of stairs and finally arrived at their destination.

It was obviously an old room illuminated only by candles that surrounded a large stone. That stone was covered in runes that Harry had never seen before. The first years followed the participants by surrounding the stone in question. When all of the first years entered the room, the door closed and merged into the wall.

The entire room was silent, both magically and in real life. Slowly, a strange woman wearing a red robe walked towards the altar at the bottom of the stone and brought a pure white rabbit in front of it. She looked around raised her hand grabbed the ritual knife that was next to the altar and stabbed the small animal in the heart.

The woman quickly returned to her place in the circle. Honestly, Harry would have been horrified by the sheer cruelty of killing such an innocent animal, but suddenly the runes started to glow and the candles' fire dimmed. Harry could feel it, the magic. He could hear it. It was one of the most beautiful and terrible things he had ever heard in his life.

It wasn't just magic. It was something different, something more. What Harry heard couldn't be called a song. It had an extra dimension or perhaps even several extra dimensions to it. Harry did his best to try to understand it but to no avail. It was mournful yet happy, angry yet sad, it was familiar in a way that he couldn't explain. It was the veil of death that was becoming nothing more than a curtain. He tried to look past it, feel past it, but felt a sense of alarm. If he tried to understand what should not be understood, to see past the veil, past what mortals ever see, then he would be forever changed, and not in a good way.

He stopped trying to figure the melody out but was worried by it trying to affect his own. No, that's not it. Harry's magic was completely fine, his very cells were somehow being filled by the magic of the ritual and he had to stifle a gasp as he realized what he was feeling. It felt like intense love and protection, a mother's love, a father's pride. Was this what was on the other side? Harry didn't remember his past life beyond its pitiful end. He didn't remember what happened after and that scared him.

Because Harry had defied death, he knew it, and it likely knew it as well. Samhain was the day of the dead and Harry, even if his mind didn't remember, his soul has experienced death. Harry could feel it being watched being judged. There was no one in front of him, but Harry could feel it. Someone was there looking into his very soul. Something old, something new, something familiar, Death was judging him, the man who defied it and the boy who remembered what he should not. Harry knew that at any second the being could snuff out his life, and take what is owed to it because he was alive, thus belonging to death.

And yet nothing came. The energy didn't hurt him, and the feeling of oppression vanished into welcome. Harry sagged in relief and relished the feeling of the magic in his body. And just like that, the candles brightened again, and the runes on the stone vanished.

The ritual was over, but his night still wasn't over. Harry stayed put, not knowing what to do. The older students started to leave, Gemma included, and the young Potter didn't know whether to follow her or not. Suddenly a bright light occurred from the stone blinding the young Slytherin.

But Harry didn't scream for the brightness of the light instead, he heard a burst of magic hit every single first year at once. And that was when the pain started. The spell, whatever that was, brought the magic from the ritual and pushed it towards his magical circuits. It felt like his blood had turned to fire going through his veins.

Harry could feel the light spread throughout his body, looking for something until he found it. It was very well hidden near his heart. The magic attempted to synergize with whatever it was it had found as if asking for permission. The thing returned some energy of its own, as if judging it, before letting the magic through. That was when the pain was magnified in its intensity and Harry was gritting his teeth to suppress the scream. But also, Harry noticed that the songs around him started to shift like something was also added.

The feeling continued for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. When the pain subsidized into soreness. Harry tried to walk only for the world to slowly darken. Mere seconds later, he fell down unconscious from the strain of what happened to him.
 
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