Keep on keeping on

Harry’s first lesson was transfiguration with his head of house. He traipsed into the classroom, clutching his wand tightly in his pocket. Hermione trailed closely behind, a sad look still on her face. Harry knew he’d upset her, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. All he could focus on was getting through the day. McGonagall stood at the front of the classroom, glaring sternly at all the first years that walked into her classroom. Harry chose a desk at the back of the room, tucked away in the corner. Hermione took the seat next to him and set her transfiguration book on the desk. When Harry followed suit, Hermione glanced at his battered book, and he cast a guilty look at his friend.

“What happened?” She mouthed, staring at the pages that fell out on the desk as Harry placed it there. Harry shrugged and turned away. Hermione resolved to fix it for him later.

The class began with McGonagall telling them how excited she was to have them at Hogwarts but that they needed to focus and study hard. She explained that Hogwarts had produced many brilliant witches and wizards and that she saw no reason that they all couldn’t also be great. Harry sat quietly at the back and listened. He couldn’t take notes like Hermione was doing as the lesson progressed to theory. Harry had looked in his bag but wasn’t surprised when he found only his black, stained parchment. When Hermione noticed Harry not writing anything, she nudged him and nodded her head at his empty desk. Again, Harry shrugged and pulled his destroyed parchment from his bag. In response, Hermione handed him a spare roll of parchment that she had, and Harry nodded gratefully.

With 30 minutes left, McGonagall announced that they would now move onto the practical element of the lesson. They were working on basic transfiguration, and the practical was to turn a matchstick into a needle. They’d been practising the wand movement and the words separately up until now – of course Harry had not said a word.

“Now, everyone. Let’s put the two together and see how many of you can successfully transfigure your matchsticks.” McGonagall announced to the class. There was some nervous shuffling as the first years prepared to attempt the first magic. Hermione pulled her wand out and said the incantation clearly, waving her wand in the movement they’d been practicing. Instantly, her wooden matchstick turned into a glittering silver needle. She grinned widely and looked up at the professor that was walking past.

“Very well done Miss Granger. 10 points to Gryffindor.” McGonagall said proudly. Hermione blushed at her praise.

“Now you Mr Potter.” Harry gulped and stared at his matchstick. He prayed that his magic would be strong enough without the words. He carefully pointed his wand at his matchstick and waved it, thinking the words in his mind. The matchstick wriggled slightly but did not change. Harry bowed his head in embarrassment.

“Hmm Mr Potter. As I said, speaking the incantation is the key to magic. Maybe try actually saying the words?” She said sternly, eyeing Harry over her glasses. Harry felt Hermione’s hand squeeze his arm reassuringly. The professor walked away, her heels tapping against the floor.

By the end of the lesson, Harry’s matchstick remained on his desk. Hermione had gone on to transfigure four more. Harry felt angry at himself. Even here, the Dursley’s were still ruining his life. When the bell sounded, signalling the end of the lesson, Harry stuffed his book into his bag, probably damaging it more. He then stalked out of the classroom, a stormy look on his face. Hermione caught up to him in the hall and placed her hand on his shoulder. Harry flinched and pulled away from her.

“Harry.” Hermione started. Harry ignored her and carried on walking to the dungeons for potions.

When they entered the potions classroom, Harry took the seat at the back in the corner, just like in transfiguration. Hermione joined him and they sat in silence until the professor joined them in the room.

“Be quiet!” drawled a voice from the front of the classroom, silencing the chatter. Harry’s head snapped up at the voice that he recognised. Please no, Harry pleaded to himself. But no, stood there was Professor Snape. Harry watched his professor’s eyes land on him and his mouth break into a horrid sneer. Harry ducked his head and stared at the table.

“This is potions. There will be no silly wand waving in my class. You will only speak when spoken to and you will answer my questions.” Snape barked. All first years were shocked into a terrified silence. Harry was relieved at the announcement that there would be no wands – that meant there were no incantations that he couldn’t speak.

The lesson continued with Snape lecturing them on the importance of safety in the lab. He stated that there would be no practical this week. Snape wanted to ensure they were all competent enough to even remain in his class. Harry had been taking notes all lesson with his borrowed parchment and had not looked up at all. He did not want to look at the man that had unceremoniously dumped him on his relative’s doorstep and then disappeared. The man that had left him to the mercy of Uncle Vernon. Harry had thought that Snape had known about the poor treatment and had chosen not to act and, if that was true, Harry was seething. Whilst Harry had not engaged at all, he had, incorrectly, thought he’d gotten away with not being spoken to. That was until he heard Snape shout his name.

“Potter. Our new celebrity!” Snape announced, curling his lip. Harry looked up, face growing steadily red. “Is Hogwarts everything your little star studded ego thought it would be?” A group of Slytherin’s sniggered in the corner. Harry looked over at the noise and saw a group of three boys huddled in the corner laughing at him, the one with white, blonde hair was whispering behind his hand and pointing at Harry. Harry looked back at Snape who was glaring at him expectantly. Harry shrugged and looked away.

“Ah, the pains of fame. Happy to shout your mouth off about your terrible story and your dead parents but too shy to answer a simple question.” Harry was fuming. Snape knew Harry didn’t talk. He’d spent an entire day with him. He’d watched Harry break down. Harry was confused though. He didn’t realise he was famous. He’d never spoken about his ‘terrible story’ except to Hermione. No one knew about the Dursley’s so what was Snape talking about? His parents… his parents were dead?

“10 points from Gryffindor for your blatant disobedience.” Snape yelled and turned away. With that, the bell signalled the end of the lesson and Harry collected his stuff and left, not even waiting for Hermione.

Harry ran down the halls, blood rushing in his ears. He ran until his lungs pleaded for him to stop. He found himself in a deserted corridor and he found a door and tugged it open, flinging himself inside. It was dark and cramped in there and Harry felt like he was back in his cupboard. Harry felt his breath quicken and his head was pounding, radiating the pain to behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut to trap the tears that were threatening to fall. His heart ached and he felt himself losing control. Harry was trapped in his head and images of the Dursley’s flashed through his mind.

“Freak. Worthless. No wonder your parents left you. They wanted you dead.”

Their words were cruel, and hate filled. Harry had always been told that his parents had just dropped him off at their doorstep and then vanished. But now Snape said they were dead? How did they die? What happened? Harry couldn’t slow his thoughts and his panic was rising. He was tugging on his fingers, but it wasn’t helping like it normally did. He started banging his head against the stone wall, like he’d done on the train, willing for his brain to just stop screaming. Bang, bang, bang. Harry wanted to scream and shout and tear himself apart. What happened to his parents! The question was flying around and Harry hated it. He hated this.

Hermione watched as Harry ran from the classroom, barely stopping to collect his things. Ron came up beside her as she stood frozen to the spot, in shock at Harry’s behaviour.

“Merlin. What set the freak off now? He must have known his parents were dead. He’s the boy who lived for merlin’s sake.” Ron spat. Hermione ignored him and shoved past the boy, following after Harry.

She ran through the corridors, glad that it was lunch and everyone one was in the hall. Hermione looked around frantically, hoping to see any sign of the boy. The halls were empty though. Hermione flung open door after door, checking empty classrooms and cupboards. At one cupboard, Hermione stopped when she heard crying coming from inside.

“Harry?” She asked, knocking on the door. The crying slowed, which meant Hermione could now hear the banging. She knocked on the door urgently and eventually pushed her way in. Inside, she saw Harry curled in a ball, his head smacking against the wall.

“Harry, stop. I’m here. It’s Hermione. You’re safe. Stop banging your head please, you’re hurting yourself.” When Harry recognised the voice, the banging slowed and he opened his eyes, white dots swimming before them. He groaned at the pain and shook his head. A light illuminated the pair, and Harry realised it was coming from Hermione’s wand. He raised his eyebrows at the girl.

“Standard book of spells, grade 1. Lumos.” Hermione said simply. Harry nodded and fiddled with his hands. “What happened Harry?”  

Harry reached for his notebook and began to scribble.

[My parents are dead?] Hermione had a confused look on her face and reread his words.

“Um yes Harry. I’m sorry. Did you not know?” Hermione whispered, sadly.

[No. I was told they left me. That they vanished. That they didn’t want me…]

“Oh Harry. They wanted you. They saved you.” Harry sniffled and Hermione rubbed Harry’s arms. Hermione was learning that Harry could tolerate her touch most of the time and Hermione was taking advantage of that. She wanted Harry to learn that not every time he was touched would result in him being hurt. Harry looked quizzically at Hermione.

[What do you mean? What do you mean they saved me?] Harry’s face was streaked with tears. Hermione hesitated.

“I-I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you-” Hermione began but Harry looked at her with pleading, sad eyes. “Um. Okay right. So, before we were born there was this big war in the wizarding world. I don’t know a lot about it other than what I’ve read, being a muggleborn, but from what I understand, the dark side wanted to rule the wizarding world and get rid of all muggleborns. Anyway, your parents fought them, and the leader, known as he-who-must-not-be-named, targeted them. He came to your house and tried to kill you and your parents. But your parents tried to stop him. They died unfortunately but when he tried to kill you, something stopped him. He tried to kill you, and you stopped him. Something happened that night and no one knows why, but he disappeared, and you survived. That’s why you have that scar, Harry. It’s the sign of being hit by dark magic. You are the only person to have ever survived the killing curse.” Hermione finished, sadly. Her eyes searched Harry’s face for any sign of emotion but it was blank.

[So, it is my fault? It is my fault that they died. It is my fault that I got stuck with the Dursley’s and it’s my fault they treat me that way.] There was a shocked silence as Hermione read Harry’s words. Her hands flew to her mouth.

“No Harry! It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. You were a baby. The fault lies with the Dursleys. They never should have treated you like that. You didn’t deserve that. No one does.” Hermione insisted, tears glistening in her eyes. Harry shrugged, not believing her words but accepting them for a peaceful life. He just wanted to be alone now.

The pair sat in silence for another 10 minutes whilst Harry processed. The bell rang though, and Harry jumped at the sudden noise. Hermione stood, offering her hand to help Harry to his feet. At the sudden movement, Harry’s vision swam. He swayed unsteadily on his feet and Hermione threw her arms out to catch him before he fell back to the floor.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice echoed and Harry couldn’t quite focus on it. His head was pounding but he shrugged Hermione off as his vision cleared. Hermione stepped out of the cupboard to allow Harry some space. When Hermione’s back was turned, Harry touched his hand to the back of his head and winced when he made contact. Pulling his hand away, he saw blood glistening on his fingertips. Harry quickly wiped the back of head with his sleeve and rubbed his hands on his robes, letting the red blend in with the black. He ignored it after and followed Hermione.

The rest of Harry’s day was uneventful. Charms went about the same as transfiguration did, with Harry failing to do any magic at all. Professor Flitwick was a small man who had to perch on a tall pile of books to even see over his desk. Hermione expertly managed to make her feather fly whilst Harry’s did nothing more that quiver on his desk. His head didn’t stop pounding, making it hard for Harry to focus.

The final lesson was History of Magic. Harry was shocked to see a pearly white ghost floating at the front of the classroom. He introduced himself as Professor Binns and then began the lesson. It was dreadfully boring, but Harry was relieved that there was no magic involved – just the history of it. It meant Harry could rest his head on his desk, exhausted from the day’s events. It had been nearly two hours since Harry’s episode in the cupboard and his head still hurt. It was like someone had taken a hammer to his brain and was just banging. His vision faded in and out at every small movement he made. When the bell rang for the end of the day, the noise split Harry’s head in half. He groaned at the noise and covered his ears with his hands. He heard Hermione shuffling beside him, packing her things away. She shook him gently.

“Harry, come on. Let’s go for dinner.” Harry groaned again but went to stand up. At the movement, his vision swam again Hermione’s voice sounded far away, like Harry was hearing it from underwater.

“Harry. Harry. You’re really pale. Are you ok?”

Harry tried to reply but before he could, everything went black, and he crumpled to the floor.