Chapter 5
Chapter 5
The first full day of classes was a Tuesday. In Gryffindor tower, the first-year boys awoke and groggily dressed before making their way to the Great Hall. The professors were supposed to escort them to their classes, but they were on their own getting to breakfast.
They stayed together in the corridors because Dumbledore had told them to, and because they all agreed there was safety in numbers.
Harry had known the castle’s passages pretty well when he’d been in school. Now, however, he was as lost as any of the other first years.
One of the staircases they were taking started to move halfway up, splitting so that the bottom half met a new top, and the top got a new bottom. Harry, Ron and Goyle were on the top part of the staircase. Seamus and Dean were on the bottom.
“Now what?” Seamus demanded as each part of the staircase found its new home on separate landings with a wide chasm between them.
“Go to the top and stay put,” Harry shouted across the chasm. “We’ll come to you!”
He had no idea how they were going to do that.
At the top, Harry looked out over the maze of staircases, trying to make sense of it. He wished he could simply apparate to where the other boys were, but of course, one couldn’t do that at Hogwarts. Eventually he deduced that his group needed to go back down the stairs they’d come up, then up another set.
This took them to Seamus and Dean.
“Let’s try that door,” Ron suggested, pointing to a door several feet from where they stood. He walked over and turned the handle. “Locked.”
“Alohomora,” Goyle tapped the knob with his wand. The door clicked open. “It worked!”
“Nice!” shouted Ron, reaching up to give Goyle a high-five.
Too late, Harry realized they were on the third floor. From the door they’d opened he could hear a rumbling growl. He knew it belonged to a three headed dog ironically named Fluffy. All three of the dog’s heads were snarling down at the boys as it advanced.
Harry knew playing music would put the dog to sleep but didn’t have an instrument on him. He asked if one of the others did.
“An instrument?” Ron shrieked, “you want the monster to dance?”
“I have this,” Seamus pulled a harmonica from his pocket.
“That’ll work,” said Harry. “Play something!”
Seamus, gaping at Harry like he was mad, blew into the harmonica. After a few notes, the dog’s eyelids started to droop.
“It’s falling asleep!” Goyle exclaimed.
Seamus kept playing.
“Now back away slowly,” Harry told his dormmates. “No sudden movements.”
They made it all the way back to the top of the stairs. When they’d cleared the doorway, Harry slammed the door shut and spelled the lock back in place. Seamus stopped playing.
“How’d you know music would put the dog to sleep?” Ron asked once they were back on the stairs moving away from the third floor.
“I’m psychic,” Harry replied. The others nodded like that made sense.
“We have to tell someone about that monster!” Dean exclaimed.
“Are you mental? We can’t tell anyone!” argued Goyle. “Obviously they don’t want us in that corridor. We’ll get in trouble.”
Telling an adult was an option Harry hadn’t tried in the past. When He, Ron and Hermione had tried to tell McGonagall during first year when they had thought Snape was going to try and steal the Sorcerer’s Stone, she’d insisted it was perfectly safe and threatened them with discipline. After his childhood with the Dursley’s, this had cemented his belief that adults couldn’t be trusted.
Having made questionable decisions as an adult himself, Harry also understood now that being a certain age didn’t mean you magically had all the answers.
If anything, he had more questions.
“I agree with Greg,” Harry would figure out what to do about the three-headed dog and the stone it was guarding later.
-X-
When they finally made it to the Great Hall, they were disappointed they’d missed breakfast. The food had vanished from the tables and the professors were handing out schedules.
“Where’ve you lot been?” Professor McGonagall asked when she spotted the first years.
“Got lost, Ma’am,” said Ron. “We’ve only just got here.”
McGonagall sighed deeply, then conjured up a plate of toast.
“Eat quickly. Classes start soon.”
Harry and the others took a seat at the closest table, which happened to be Hufflepuff. Around them, he could see older students giving them funny looks. Several students were reading the Daily Prophet, which featured a large photo of Sirius Black, beneath a headline declaring the man innocent of all charges.
“We’ve got History of Magic with Professor Binns this morning,” Dean looked up from his schedule and reached for a second slice of toast.
“You’ve got a short day,” said an older Hufflepuff boy, leaning over to read Harry’s schedule. “Defense Against the Dark Arts after lunch.”
“I haven’t met Quirrell yet,” said a Hufflepuff girl. “Binn’s is a ghost. Rumor is, he fell asleep grading papers and died.”
“Ghosts aren’t real,” Goyle replied. Hufflepuff’s ghost, The Fat Friar, glared at him.
“How does he grade anything?” Ron asked.
Harry’s schedule was ripped from his hands, disappearing over his shoulder.
“Rude,” he laughed, looking up at Draco, who was now standing behind him comparing their schedules.
“We only have Potions together,” Draco said, frowning as he slipped into the seat Dean had scooted over to make for him.
“We’ll have to visit the seventh floor,” Harry replied, referring to the Room of Requirement, a room both he and Draco were intimately acquainted with.
Draco swallowed hard and arranged his features to appear unbothered.
“See you tonight.”
-X-
The morning flew by. After History of Magic, the Gryffindor First Years had a free period.
Harry asked if anybody wanted to go to the library with him.
“It’s our first day, mate,” Ron declined. Greg agreed to go.
Going to the library meant plausible deniability for Harry. Trying to hide his skill level was a recipe for disaster. He was sure to mess up and do something advanced a first year wouldn’t have learned yet. He figured there might be fewer questions if he gained a reputation early as a ‘book person’.
Today Harry selected a book on personal protection spells. He knew he would be using his wards and threat detection spells frequently. The two Gryffindor’s sat down at a table already filled with Ravenclaws and read silently.
-X-
A squad of aurors arrived during lunch to interview Harry and Draco. The two First Years were escorted to Dumbledore’s office and offered a plate of sandwiches. Harry picked one up and Draco slapped it out of his hand.
“What did my sandwich ever do to you?” Harry grumbled.
Draco cast a spell to reveal if there were any potions in any of the food. Harry got it then and started checking the office for listening spells. Results for both were positive. All of the food and drinks on the desk turned red, and the portraits of the former Headmasters began to sing a popular song by an American boyband.
“Somebody was trying to dose us,” Draco declared haughtily. “My father will be hearing about this.”
“What made you think to check for tampering?” Auror Shacklebolt demanded. “Where did you learn those spells?”
“Shouldn’t we be asking why you’re tampering with our food?” Harry demanded. One of the Auror’s shook his head.
“Protocol,” Shacklebolt grunted.
“Are we in trouble, sir?” Harry asked, hoping he sounded innocent and dumb.
“Harry had a dream last night where somebody was trying to poison him, so we learned some spells to use for detecting things the we cannot see,” Draco replied.
“Everything here is insane. It’s like I’ve got -what’s the word for- the disease where you forget your past?”
“Obliviated?” supplied a female Auror named Hodges.
“Amnesia?” suggested Pyremis, an older male.
“That’s the one!” Harry agreed, snapping his fingers.
“Have we done something wrong?” Draco persisted, glaring at the aurors. Both he and Harry knew they should not be questioning minors without a guardian present.
“Have you?” Shacklebolt demanded.
“Obviously we don’t remember,” Draco replied. “If we’re not in trouble, why are you questioning us?”
“We’re the one’s asking the questions in this room!” declared Pyremis.
“Are you though?” Harry asked.
“They’re obviously hiding something!” Exclaimed Hodges.
“Are you boy’s hiding something?” Shacklebolt demanded. Harry and Draco shrugged.
“Well, this has been pointless,” Pyremis stuffed several of the sandwiches into his cloak pocket. “Shacklebolt, we should go. We’re wasting time.”
Shacklebolt nodded before turning back to the boys.
“If either of you boys remember anything, contact our office at once.”
The portraits of the former headmasters were still singing as the three Aurors climbed into the fire and vanished. Harry and Draco left the food and pumpkin juice untouched as they left the office. Draco took a swig from his flask and offered it to Harry who took it readily.
“Well, Pyremis was right. That was pointless,” Draco said later as he and Harry returned to the Great Hall. “Pettigrew accused us of attacking him on the train. That much was in the Daily Prophet article. They didn’t even ask about it.”
“We couldn’t have told them anything if they had,” Harry replied. “We got Obliviated too. I smell incompetence. There’s no way we were that bad at our jobs.”
“No way! At least I wasn’t,” Draco swore. Harry swatted at him. “Bloody mental- the whole lot of them.”
Every meal from then on Harry made a point of checking his foods and beverages for spells and potions.
-X-
Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only class left after lunch. Professor Quirrell, wearing his purple turban, collected the Gryffindor First Years in the Great Hall following the afternoon meal, and led them to his classroom. The room smelled of garlic.
Harry knew the turban concealed the face of Voldemort, who currently resided on the back of Quirrell’s head.
What followed was an uneventful hour of notetaking about the various dark creatures they might face.
Goyle refused to believe things like vampires, werewolves and zombies were real. The entire class stifled a groan when he expressed this thought.
“I assure you; I’ve encountered m-m-many on my t-t-travels.” Professor Quirrell said, before launching into a story about a zombie he’d killed in Argentina.
Zombies were tricky. Harry and Draco had once rescued a necromancer who’d nearly started a zombie apocalypse when she’d accidentally raised an entire cemetery while trying to spend a few extra moments with a dead lover.
Quirrell seemed especially interested in vampires. Apparently, he’d done extensive research on the topic.
Harry raised his hand to ask questions. Would they turn to dust when stabbed through the heart with a wooden stake? Could you kill them with fire? Did they sparkle in the sunlight?
Quirrell took ten points from Gryffindor, stuttering as he explained the first two questions were offensive, and the last was simply absurd.
To make it more interesting, if only to himself, Harry made silly faces, stuck out his tongue, or raised his middle finger anytime the back of the turban faced him. Several times his scar burned, and he could only assume Voldemort had seen him.
-X-
After another feast in the Great Hall, the students returned to their common rooms and the First Years were encouraged to spend time with their mentors.
Harry introduced himself to Todd, and the two were having an amusing conversation about the moving staircases when Ron walked over and demanded a word.
Seamus and Dean grabbed Harry’s arms and pinned them behind his back. His captors were young and inexperienced, so it wasn’t a strong hold, and Harry knew he could escape at any time. He tamped down his instincts to struggle.
“Everything alright?” Todd asked, glancing between Harry and the three other First Years who towered over him. Todd, being in his seventh year, was taller than all of them, and built like he could wrestle an alligator into submission.
“Just something I need to deal with sooner rather than later,” Harry said with a sigh.
Ron had always had a nasty habit of believing everything he read in the Daily Prophet. Now he was upset, having decided on his own that Harry had targeted Scabbers because of Ron’s financial status. This reasoning was entirely based on a quote from Pettigrew, placing Harry in a compartment with Draco Malfoy, who, according to Ron, was a huge snob.
Harry was used to Ron’s inconsistent loyalty.
“Being famous doesn’t give you the right to go around doing whatever you like to other people!” Ron shouted. While some older students watched the confrontation, ready to intervene if it became violent, the majority of the onlookers observed the argument like spectators watching a tennis match.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry said. “And what do you mean, I’m famous?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Potter,” Ron swore.
Todd gave Ron a hard look.
“You’re one of the Weasley’s, right?”
“What makes you think that?” Ron demanded.
“I got a letter from your brother Charlie today. His letter said he and I spent the summer together in America hiking the Appalachian Trail. According to him, I punched a bear in the face.”
“What’d you do that for?” Seamus asked. Todd shrugged.
“Anyway, he heard we’d all been obliviated and was worried. He said his little brother would be starting this year and asked me to keep an eye out. Of course, I had to visit the sorting hat to find out who any of you people were.”
“I have brothers?” Ron frowned. “Surely they’ll want to help me defend our family’s honor.”
Harry glanced to Percy, who was sitting with the other Prefects and pointedly studying something in his Arithmancy book, and then to Fred and George who were sitting in a corner whispering to one another. None of them moved to support Ron.
“I don’t remember anything about the train, and neither do you,” Harry said. “You’re only making assumptions.”
“You really didn’t know you were famous?”
“What would I be famous for?” Harry asked. Ron seemed to be starting to doubt his own convictions. “Before the sorting, even I didn’t know my own name!”
Unfortunately, this was a step too far. Ron’s face hardened, and then his fist was making contact with Harry’s face.
CRACK.
“Ouch!” Ron wailed, holding his wrist. His hand, already turning purple. Percy reluctantly appeared to escort him to the hospital wing.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” Todd muttered.
Harry had had enough. He knocked Seamus’ head against Dean’s and escaped their hold.
Harry put up extra wards around his bed before snagging Uncle Vernon’s whiskey from his trunk and sneaking out of the dorm to meet Draco in the Room of Requirement.
-X-
Draco paced in front of the wall on the seventh floor, carrying his flask and a bag of scones, contemplating what he needed from the Room of Requirement. It was after curfew, and he was certain to get a detention if somebody saw him. Potter was late.
He and Harry had both had bad experiences with the Room, and neither was thrilled to be going back. However, one could not pass on a secret room that would accommodate whatever a person needed it for.
Harry had taught a Defense Against the Dark Arts class in the Room during their fifth year when their professor had refused to teach them the practical aspects of her subject, claiming they’d never have to use it. That had been the year following Voldemort’s return. During the war many of those same students lived in the Room to avoid the Death Eaters who had taken over the castle.
Draco had used the Room’s ‘Lost Things’ function as a place to hide while he repaired an old cabinet that would allow those Death Eater’s to enter the castle.
Harry and his friend’s had been searching for something in ‘The Room of Lost Things’ during the war when Draco and his goons had found them. Crabbe had set it on fire, ultimately losing his own life.
Thus, the Room needed to be tidy, with everything in its proper place, and nothing on fire.
Draco’s heart pounded in his chest as he remembered the flames licking at his heels as Potter had flown them to safety on his broomstick. Though they’d fought on opposite sides, Potter had insisted on saving him.
“What are you waiting for?” Potter asked as he arrived on the seventh floor. He had a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag clutched in his hand.
“Nice shiner,” Draco said instead of answering. “What happened?”
“Ron punched me in the face.”
“You probably deserved it. Right. So, we need a clean warm space without a fire where we can sit and drink without being disturbed.” Draco focused on this image as he passed the empty wall three times, and a door appeared. He looked at Harry, who took a deep breath and turned the knob.
Inside, the Room held an assortment of chairs facing one another with blankets in contrasting colors draped over them.
“This’ll do,” Harry declared, claiming a dark blue sofa and wrapping the light blue blanket around him. Crookshanks hopped up on a fluffy purple chair, and moments later Soren sat in the cat’s place.
“I’ll never get used to that,” Draco said, after locking the door and putting up a bunch of warding spells to make himself feel safer. He joined the others and took a seat on a green chair.
“Me either,” Soren agreed. “I haven’t had thumbs since the seventeenth century.”
Harry uncapped his whiskey and took a long drink.
The three sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Then Soren spoke up.
“Tell me about your first day of classes.”
“Awful,” Draco said.
“So dull!” Harry added.
“The Slytherin’s all got additional letters from our family’s warning us to stay away from Harry Potter,” Draco said. “Since I’m obviously not listening, now they’re avoiding me. Most of us got special permission to go home this weekend, you know, so our parents can brainwash us again.”
“Except, your dad was a high-ranking Death Eater, right? Their parents will probably tell them to follow your lead. You can lead them all to the dark side!” Harry laughed. “Join us. We have cookies.”
“Cookies?” Draco asked. “Where?”
“I’m assuming Tom 27 made some.”
The purple snake had slithered up Draco’s neck again.
“I made ssscones, actually,” the snake hissed.
Draco offered the bag to the others. Harry and Soren each took one.
“When exactly did the two of you have time to make baked goods?” Harry asked.
“Apparently we snuck out of the dorms last night and went to the kitchens to hang out with the house-elves.” Draco said.
“The elvesss are our friendsss.”
“I woke up this morning covered in flour and wearing an apron.”
“Hasn’t everyone?” Harry asked. Soren nodded sagely.
Draco sighed.
“I could have been seen! Dumbledore would expel me in an instant if I gave him a reason. I could have fallen through one of those sinking steps and ended up in an alternate dimension. We still aren’t sure if they’re kidding about those aggressive moose!”
“The staff think Dumbledore made the aggressive moose thing up to keep the students from wandering around,” Soren spoke up.
“It’s concerning that even they don’t know,” said Harry.
“They’ve all got their theories,” Soren replied. “Professors Vector and Sinistra have made charts. Trelawny also made a chart, but nobody can read it. There’s a betting pool as well. According to Snape and McGonagall, it’s a lie to keep students from looking too hard at the other dangerous creatures in the school. Trelawny claims the moose is an omen, and somebody is going to die. Flitwick says the moose are actually an endangered magical creature brought here for protection. Sprout maintains that if Dumbledore says there are aggressive moose in the castle, then there must be.”
“I’m with Snape and McGonagall on this one,” said Harry. “Classic Dumbledore.”
For the next hour the three sat companionably, drinking and chatting about their day.
Harry and Draco shared a laugh over Goyle’s refusal to believe in ghosts.
“He never would do his work in History of Magic.” Draco admitted. “No idea how he kept passing.”
Soren revealed that Professor Snape would sneak him table scraps and talk to him when they were alone.
“He’s suspicious of that bloke in the turban. Quirrell? Thinks he’s shady.”
Harry snorted.
“You could say that.”
“How do you reckon that works?” Draco pondered, “do you think Quirrell and You-Know-Who have deep chats when they’re alone?”
“They’re both huge nerds that want to murder me,” Harry mused. “Quirrell tried to knock me off my broomstick at my first Quidditch match. He would have gotten away with it if Hermione hadn’t knocked him down on her way to set Snape on fire. I bet they’ve got a list of ways to get rid of me, and they congratulate each other for being evil a lot.”
“So many things wrong with that statement,” Draco muttered, taking a long drink from his flask.
“If that list exists,” Soren promised, “I’ll find it.”
They all agreed that Soren following Quirrell was a good idea.
-X-
Harry and Soren, a cat once again, made it back to Gryffindor Tower without encountering any obstacles. He gave the password to the Fat Lady, entered the common room, and was on his way to the stairs when he heard somebody clear their throat.
“Lumos.”
“Freeze, Potter.”
Harry turned to find Fred and George Weasley. Fred pointed his wand at Harry, while George held a familiar piece of parchment.
Harry yawned.
“It’s late, what are you two doing up?”
“We went to visit the Sorting Hat,” Fred stifled a yawn of his own.
“It told us we were the best pranksters in our year,” added George.
“So, we went back to our dorm and started looking through our things,” Fred continued.
“We found this interesting parchment,” George said, yawning. “Yawning sure is contagious.”
Harry nodded. “And?”
“We started messing with it,” Fred said, “and it revealed its secrets.”
George held the parchment so Harry could see the map.
“So tell us, Harry, who is Soren Fowler?”
“And why are you sneaking out to meet Draco Malfoy?”
“Sorry guys,” Harry pulled out his wand and obliviated them both again.
He’d forgotten about the Marauder’s Map. It was a map of the Hogwarts castle and grounds created by Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs that included secret passageways and had little dots showing who was where.
Last time the Weasley Twins had given it to Harry during his third year so he could sneak into Hogsmeade, a neighboring wizarding village.
Even if the twins weren’t a threat, he couldn’t risk anyone knowing what he was up to.
Harry set the map aside. Then he transfigured himself into a rock and waited for them to wake up.