The Silver Trio and an Auspicious Beginning

Harry woke up just as sunlight began to filter through the windows looking into the lake above his bed. He was struck with a moment of confusion, feeling the soft warmth surrounding him, a sensation still unfamiliar to him even after the month in Diagon. It wasn’t until Hedwig hooted beside him that he startled into a more aware state, grinning at the green robes that hung on his four-post bed. He jumped to his feet and quickly began to get ready, grabbing some light clothes to wear under his robe and disappearing into the shared bathroom in their lounge, none of the other boys seemingly awake. He took his time, relaxing under the warm spray of the shower before drying off, throwing his towel in a hamper box in the corner, dressing, brushing his teeth, and heading back to his room. Zabini was rubbing his eyes in the doorway to his room, blearily looking up as Harry nodded to him. The other boy chuckled, throwing out a “nice hair, Potter” before yawning and walking back into his room with the door still open.

Harry rolled his eyes and settled on his bed, shifting through the textbooks on his desk. He hadn’t had a chance to truly unpack, as he had written in his journal and then passed out, and just pulled out what he’d need for the day. He assumed he’d come back after dinner that night and fill the bookshelf over the desk with some of his books, and the wardrobe with his new clothes. The room wasn’t overly large, just enough room for the three pieces of furniture and his trunk at the foot of his bed with enough walking space to not feel crowded. Harry guessed that was why they had the lounge, to encourage studying and relaxing in common spaces.

Not knowing what classes he would have that day, Harry just resorted to carrying all of his books in his expanded bag (and quickly learning that the carrying capacity was already close to its limit with them all), only bringing two rolls of parchment for the day. He made a plan that he’d rewrite the notes on dedicated scrolls later, maybe even a muggle notebook, once he knew what would be expected for each class. He sat the bag on his shoulder, thanking Merlin for whoever created the featherweight charm that Mr. Wiseacre made sure was on his belongings. Walking into the still empty boy’s lounge, he could hear at least one of the showers running in the bathroom. Closing his door behind him, he noticed a few of the others open, meaning it must have been getting close to breakfast.

Looking out across the hall, Harry saw Hermione paging through a book in the first girls’ lounge. Not wanting to disturb any of the other girls by calling her name, he crumpled a piece of paper from his personal notebook and threw it right into the crevice of her book from the hallway. She looked up sharply, before seeing Harry’s smug wave and matching his grin. She closed her book and stood, picking up a small handbag beside her and a messenger bag near bursting with books. She was already dressed in her robes, with a cloth wrapped around her hair, keeping it out of her face.

“Harry, good morning. Sleep well?”

He nodded, shifting his own bag across his shoulders. “I can’t remember sleeping on a more comfortable mattress. And not having to worry about if someone else snores is an added bonus. I think Ron mentioned his brothers all having to share with their yearmates over in Gryffindor.”

Hermione grimaced. “I agree. After having my own room for so long, it would have been weird sharing. Speaking of, Harry… I don’t mean to presume that we’re friends—”

“We are friends, Hermione, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Harry interrupted, tugging on a wayward curl.

She blushed. “I never said I wanted to get rid of you, hush. Anyways…” She sighed, looking around Harry to check the boys’ lounge. “Are we keeping Ronald?”

Harry laughed. “He’s not a pet, Hermione.”

"He may have well been, based on the way he was eating last night at dinner. I’m not saying I don’t like him. I’m just asking if you were going to pursue a friendship. I wouldn’t be opposed, I’m just not used to many friends, and I’m not sure the… protocols. With us both being muggle-raised, I thought that the two of us would be well matched.”

He placed a hand on her arm with a sympathetic smile. “I’m not used to friends, either, but I don’t think there are really protocols, Hermione. We got along on the train pretty well, and none of us have previous connections here, not counting Ron’s brothers. I think that means we’re already friends. Plus, he seems like a good guy. And he has information we both need. Sure, he doesn’t always have manners, or the most open of minds. But, I can tell he means well and has a decent head on his shoulders, and is willing to think through things. And that’s good enough for me. That, and when he saw how uncomfortable I was in the crowd before the sorting, he instantly put himself between me and the idiots who were staring, which means more than I can say. Besides, based on our conversation on the train, he’s… trainable, I guess?”

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh, and she smacked Harry’s shoulder lightly. “Now who’s calling him a pet?”

“All in all, Hermione, from what I can tell, the three of us are really out of place here in the dungeons. As much as we belong in green, we are the unknowns of the House. Being each other’s friends, and making sure that the three of us, at least, know where we stand with each other… I think that may be the only way we make it to graduation alive and sane.” He sent her a roguish grin.

She giggled under her breath before her face slowly lost her smile. “I didn’t realize how… insular it would be. How much you need some flashy name in order to gain power.”

Harry eyed her. “We’re eleven, Hermione. How much power do you need?”

“It’s never too early to start.” She shrugged. “The Minister of Magic was eleven once. But he wasn’t an outsider forcing their way in.”

He shrugged. “Use my name. It’s flashy enough, and it’ll do until you make a name for yourself.”

“I appreciate that, Harry. But I just… I don’t know how. There are these ties between everyone already, secrets and jokes and family history that I just completely lack.”

“So find some of those out,” he replied as he dug for his potions book in his bag.

“It’s not that simple, Harry.”

“Why not? Ron’s already given us a good chunk of information about family feuds and the like. I’m sure my friend Flick can give us some more, she’s a… I think they call it a heritage pureblood. She doesn’t believe in the blood supremacy shit, those are the pureblood fundamentalists, but she’s involved in the wixen culture and would probably tell us more.”

Hermione paused, watching Harry flip through the textbook. “I… Thanks, Harry. I didn’t think about asking upper years for help. I guess I just assumed they all had enough skeletons in the closet that they didn’t want anyone knowing about, that they wouldn’t want to help.”

“Well, those who want to help will. Those who won’t, we just have to expose those skeletons and use them. If there’s anything my aunt taught me, it’s how to use information against others. And I’m an expert in closets.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. “Uh, in what way? Are you…”

Harry matched her confused expression before it cleared, him laughing awkwardly. “Merlin, no, Hermione, we’re eleven, I’ve never even had a crush, I don’t know anything about that.”

“Then how are you an expert in closets?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

She let him change the conversation with a suspicious look. They leaned against the wall, chatting about what classes they hoped to have that day. Hermione was thrilled that the conversation quickly delved into a debate on the merits of Potions experiments, and whether Herbology’s syllabus should mirror that of Potions. A few minutes later, Ron appeared, yawning with a stretch that made him seem comically large for an eleven-year-old. “Morning. Is it time for breakfast yet? I'm starving.”

Hermione rolled his eyes with an indulging smile. “The prefects told us last night, breakfast technically begins at seven, and it’s not quite seven yet, but by the time we find the Great Hall, food should be ready.”

They headed towards the common room, Ron rubbing his hands together as he listed foods he hoped would be at breakfast. The other first years were only a few minutes behind them, circling around Prefect Farley, who was standing in the center of the room. “Remember, this is not a long-term arrangement, so please try to memorize the halls quickly. You’ll get a map with your schedules, use it.” She seemed exhausted. “Now come on, I need coffee.”

The first years followed her through the winding halls and up the flights of stairs until they were finally at the Entrance Hall. She barely gave them a second glance as she said, “I hope you can find it from here,” and disappeared through the doors.

Their placement at the Slytherin table, which along with the Ravenclaw table was already mostly full, was the same as the night before. The first years were clustered closest to the professors, divided into the friend groups they either had coming into school, or made the first night. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were between the two other groups, mainly ignoring the looks sent their way.

Food appeared as soon as they settled in their seats, and none of them hesitated in filling their plates. Hermione and Ron both seemed to try to sneak more food on Harry’s plate when he wasn’t looking, but he always shot them a mild glare when he turned back to the table from where he tried to find his acquaintances from the Alley. Ron also gave a few glares of his own each time Hermione winced at his table manners. Eventually he sat a little straighter and took his elbows off the table.

“Honestly, Ronald, at least try to act respectable, the House expects it.”

Ron did his friends the favor of swallowing before he responded. “It’s literally the first day, Hermione, lighten up. I’m plenty respectable once I actually wake up and become a person.”

Their breakfast was interrupted a few times by the various acquaintances Harry had made in Diagon, Harry introducing each one to Hermione and Ron. First was a tired Jacob, who just nodded at them and shook Harry’s hand before sitting at the Ravenclaw table next to them, and then Hannah and Susan, who bounded up in yellow robes as soon as the Hufflepuffs entered the room. The girls promised to meet up with the three later, eager to gossip with other houses. An hour into the breakfast service, the noise level in the Great Hall increased substantially as students with red ties began filtering in. Three of said students headed directly for the Slytherin table. Ron gulped as he noticed the three redheads heading his way. “This won’t be fun,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Harry noticed this polite behavior with a small smile, one that Hermione rolled her eyes at.

“Ronald. A moment?” The brother that wasn’t a twin asked, brushing his robes down as he glared down the table at the amused older Slytherins watching the scene.

“Sure, Percy, what’s up?”

“The three of us just wanted to make sure you knew that we hold no ill-will for your sorting. Slytherin House is lucky to have a Weasley in its ranks, and if anyone gives you trouble, I am more than happy to take points if needed.” He said the last bit loud enough for the nearby students to hear, most of whom rolled their eyes.

“I will literally never ask you to do that, but I appreciate it anyways, Perce.”

His brother furrowed his brow, confused, but nodded anyways and headed to the Gryffindor table. Fred and George hovered for another minute, leaning down to talk.

“We made sure Percy didn’t write mum yet, Ron. Figured you might want to be the one to tell her and da,” one whispered, winking at the three.

“We really are happy for you, Ron. Great prank, breaking tradition like that.” The other twin winked as well, and they disappeared in the students milling around.

“Will your mum really be upset that you’re in Slytherin?” Harry asked, biting his lip.

Ron clenched his jaw. “Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think it ever really crossed her mind, that I might not be Gryffindor.”

“Are you worried?” Hermione asked from across the table.

He just shrugged and then started shoveling the last of his eggs into his mouth.

“Well, either way, your ours now, so if your parents don’t agree with your decision, they can shove it.” Hermione blushed at her own language, but it didn’t hold a candle to Ron’s neck turning crimson as he hid a smile.

Harry shifted in his seat. “Do you think my parents would be mad?”

The looks of understanding and sympathy that his friends made his chest burn happily.

“Didn’t you say that Hagrid knew them? Maybe he could tell you about them a bit more.” Hermione reached over, covering his hand with hers.

Harry nodded before looking over to Ron, who had just placed his napkin and silverware on his plate. “Maybe we can go see him after class one day, I think he said he lives past the Herbology greenhouses. When are you gonna tell your mum?”

Ron sighed, rubbing his nose. “Probably should go ahead and do it, so Percy doesn’t feel like he’s lying to her or something.” He looked up. “Hermione, would you mind helping me write it? I’m worried that if I write it by myself, I’ll just sound… whiny or something.”

The girl blushed lightly but grinned widely. “Sure, Ron. Let’s work on it at lunch and then we can find the owlery before our next class, I want to write my parents as well.”

They went back to eating, but barely five minutes later had to stop again when a shadow flew across the table, and a rustle of feathers made Harry look up. “Hedwig! Hey, girl, did you find some food?” He instantly dropped his spoon and pet his friend.

“Harry, she has a letter.” Ron gestured at her leg with a piece of toast.

“Oh. Weird, who would be writing to me this early in the year?” Harry gave Hedwig a piece of bacon and untied the message on her talon.

As he read it, he groaned.

“Who is it?” Hermione leaned against him to read over his shoulder.

“Gerard. Returning my letter from a few days ago, congratulating me on getting into Slytherin, which, how he knew so early, I’d like to know, and essentially assigning me homework to catch up on my duties as heir.” Harry dropped the letter and let his head thud against the table.

“Who’s Gerard?”

“My lawyer. Old friend of my da’s, helped run the Potter estate while my parents were still alive. While I was at the Alley I stopped by his office to reinstate him, and he’s now made it his mission to see that I learn everything I would have known growing up in this world by the time I can become Lord Potter in the Wizengamot. Hence, homework.”

“Oh, what homework?” Hermione scanned the letter eagerly. “Ooh, back issues of the notes from Wizengamot proceedings since your dad died? That’s quite a lot of work. Though it will probably be invaluable in learning about the government. I wouldn’t mind studying this with you, lord-,” she paused, clearing her throat, “-Merlin knows I should catch up just as much.”

Harry’s voice was muffled as he spoke into the table. “He wants me to learn what sort of things they rule on so I can choose a proxy to vote in my stead until I’m of age.”

Ron laughed. “Why don’t you just tell him you’ll ask one of the kids who have family on the court? I can think of six at the table right now, not to mention that Susan Bones girl, Neville Longbottom, probably a handful of others that would answer any questions you have just because you’re Harry Potter.”

“Gerard will know if I don’t. He’s vicious like that.”

“Good thing he’s your lawyer, then.” Hermione prodded Harry’s ear. “Finish up. We should be getting our schedules soon, but I overheard Parkinson this morning saying we have Potions first thing, and Professor Snape doesn’t seem the type to enjoy tardy students.”

Harry lifted his head up. “Potions?”

Ron and Hermione both laughed. “Yeah, mate. And Nott said his cousin, she’s an older Ravenclaw, told him that we’re bound to brew today.”

“Brill.” Harry gave them both a wicked grin and started to finish his porridge as fast as he could.

“Harry, the lesson won’t start any sooner just because you inhale your breakfast,” Hermione scowled at him.

He stuck a tongue covered in porridge at her, and she groaned and pushed his face away as Ron laughed again.

“C’mon, I want to review 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi before class.” Harry took a swig of water and grabbed his bag.

They went to stand, but before they could, a hand fell on Harry’s shoulder.

“Hold up, sprog, you can’t go to class without your schedule,” a familiar voice sounded before a piece of paper was shoved in front of Harry’s face.

He snatched the paper out of his view of his friend’s amused face. “Flick!” He jumped up to give her a hug, which she returned with her usual ruffle of his hair.

“Hiya, Hadrian. Sorry I couldn’t welcome you to Slytherin last night, I had Head Girl duties.”

Hermione looked up in awe. “You’re the Head Girl? How do you become that?”

Harry just narrowed his eyes. “Your real name is Felicity?”

“Shuddup, Potter.” She pushed him away, blushing. “Introduce me to your firstie friends.”

He rolled his eyes but gestured across the table. “Flick, this is Hermione Granger, a first-gen, and Ronald Weasley, son of House Weasley, first of his family in Slytherin in generations. Guys, this is my friend Flick, she works at Flourish & Blotts.”

If anything, Hermione’s awe-riddled gaze was even more enraptured. “You work at a bookstore?”

It took Ron and Harry physically dragging Hermione away from a grinning Flick to make it to their first class on time, following the rest of the first years and an only-slightly-more-awake Farley back into the dungeons for Potions.

Even with the light mood and the conversation circling around their first lesson, Harry kept his eyes flickering around the room.

The stares were heavy as they walked through the Great Hall, and back into the dungeons. Harry could practically feel eyes, people even standing and leaning around their friends to get a look at the Boy-Who-Lived. Without realizing, Harry ducked between his new friends, not even noticing when the other curious Slytherin first-years gave each other a look, some of the shrugging elegantly, and formed a loose circle around the three. Ron, however, clocked their movement with a frown, stepping slightly closer to Harry, who was stubbornly talking with Hermione about what potions they might brew that day. The Slytherins all pulled closer when a group of older Gryffindors, coming down to breakfast late, ran across them in the Entrance Hall.

“Well, well, well, who do you have here, Farley? Baby snakes?” A girl drawled, pulling away from the group heading for food.

“Go pretend like you care somewhere else, Borage.” Farley drawled, subtly moving between the Gryffindors and her first-years.

“Oh, but we do care about your baby Death Eaters, Farley. Especially since they’ve seemed to take in the traitors pretty well already.” A older boy with a scar along his jaw came up behind Borage, a sneer as he eyed Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Flick appeared next to Farley, wand drawn. “Borage, Cole, get out of here before you get the honor of the first detentions of the year. If you have to pick on first years to make yourselves feel significant, you have plenty of fresh meat in your own house.”

Borage scowled. “Just trying to give the newest snakes a welcome befitting their place. Wouldn’t think you of all people would be so happy with a muggleborn, a blood-traitor, and the Boy-Who-Lived in your house. But, then again, I suppose the Farley name is getting pretty… muddy itself, with this newest generation.”

The first years other than Harry and Hermione all took a sharp breath. The two muggle-raised looked to Ron, who was watching the exchange with a severe, calculated look. Harry elbowed him.

“Later. Not the talk for the middle of the breakfast, that’s for sure.” Ron didn’t look away from the upper years.

Flick gave the Gryffindors a sardonic smile. “While you’re as charming as always, Borage, believe me when I say your opinion of my family house means less than nothing to me. I’m more surprised that you’ve taken to talking like a Fundamentalist. Do we need to get you resorted?”

“Fuck off, Higgs. You may roll over when You-Know-Who’s lackeys even look at you, but we lions have a thicker skin.” The boy spat, giving an extra glare at the eleven-year-olds barely hidden from sight by the two prefects.

“Too bad that doesn’t make you any prettier, Cole. Get to class. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and if you don’t leave now, I’ll make sure McGonagall gives you the honor of the first detentions of the year.”

A voice drawled from the entry way. “Or, perhaps, it will be my pleasure to do so.” All of the students froze in place at the sudden presence of Professor Snape, who didn’t spare a glance at the group of Slytherins. “Borage, Cole, I’ll expect you in my office directly after dinner. I’m sure the first-years will have made such a mockery of my craft today that there will be plenty of cauldrons for you to scrub. Leave.”

The two Gryffindors glared at the Slytherins, eyes lingering on the three in the middle of the group, and Cole finally pulled Borage away and into the Great Hall.

Professor Snape sighed. “That, snakes, was a perfect example of the idiocy and discrimination we Slytherins deal with on a daily basis. I should discuss this behavior with Professor McGonagall. Prefect Farley, please continue taking these students down to my classroom, I will be there shortly. Prefect Higgs, a word.”

The first years lined back up, following Farley back into the dungeons. Each one of them, even Farley, let out a sigh of relief when the chill of the lower floors became noticeable.

It wasn’t until they had all filed into a large room, bottles and decanters lining walls surrounding desks that had two burners inlaid into the countertop, that Farley truly relaxed.

“Listen up. As much as I hate that we had that lovely encounter on your first full day, I hope that this has cemented the House Rules into your minds. Being chosen for this house puts you in a prestigious position, but not everyone sees that. Stay smart, stay together, and remember the rules.” She turned to walk out. “And remember where the Hospital Wing is. Potter, Weasley, Granger. C’mere for a second.”

The three moved towards her as the other first year Slytherins found seats.

She pulled a stool away from a desk and sat to bring herself down to their level. “Do you three understand why you, specifically, were targeted?”

They all met each other’s worried gaze before Hermione set her jaw and nodded. “Yes, Prefect Farley. Thank you, but I think we understand. The idea of it, if not the idiotic reasoning.”

The older girl gave a soft smile. “Okay. Good. Don’t expect me to be this… soft all the time, but this needs to be said. This House will be home for you all. I promise you that. You may find yourselves challenged, both in and out of the dungeons, but if you make a point to see it as a way to grow, you’ll come out after seven years as exactly who you want to be. Because that’s what our house truly offers its students. The chance to figure out who you are and how to get there, born of fire and blood and whatever it takes.”

Her smile grew as she watched all three of them meet her eyes, their own filled with a sharp determination. “Good.” She raised her voice. “I hope you all studied, Professor Snape will not go easy on you when it comes to the lesson material. Remember you all have a free period after this, but do not be late to your first Transfiguration class. If you need help finding it, find a prefect or someone’s older relative.” Farley turned and shut the door firmly behind her.

The first years all sagged in their chairs.

“Merlin, Haley said the Gryffindors could be mean, but to come after a bunch of us on the first day?” A girl with dirty blonde hair stared at the top of her table. The girl next to her grabbed her hand.

Another girl tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. “Grow up, Davis. This isn’t some muggle schoolyard, they aren’t about to start attacking us in the middle of the hall.”

Davis’s friend spun. “Oh, and you’d know, Pansy? Nobody would dare mess with Malcolm Parkinson’s precious little girl.”

Malfoy shifted awkwardly in his seat, eyes flickering between the girls. “Like Farley said, we’ll just have to stay smart and we can—”

All three girls turned behind them to face him. “Shut up, Malfoy!”

His face flushed and he silently turned to the boy sitting next to him.

Harry was shaking the entire conversation. He could feel his hands vibrating at his sides, hearing the echoes of the fight upstairs flying through his ears. He stared at a large spot on the tiled floor, scorch marks and an odd color giving this spot a livelihood the rest of the classroom didn’t have. He idly tuned out the other Slytherins and started going through potions he knew that may end up that specific color. He didn’t look back up until Hermione grabbed his shaking hand with both of hers, her own eyes on the spot on the ground. 

“Hmmm…. I think I read about Gregory’s… Unctuous Unction? I think? Ends of that shade of green. Though I don’t know why anyone would be brewing that here.”

Harry looked at her, eyes blinking as he came back from thinking. “As in Gregory the Smarmy? I thought that was a paste, how would that leave that stain?”

They fell into a comfortable discussion about the varieties of potions, the factual and repetitive nature calming Harry to where he was giving Ron, who was interjecting with stories about how the twins used the potions for various pranks, a tentative snicker.

Only a few minutes later, Gryffindors, most of them loud and abrasive, slammed the door open and piled into the room.

Harry took a deep breath and pulled out his notes, eager to sink into his first foray into the realm of potions.

Harry had gathered from the previous night that Professor Snape may not be too fond of him. Why, he had no idea. But between the glare at dinner and the complete lack of engagement other than another poignant look in the common room, he didn’t think that Professor Snape was going to be his biggest fan.

He refused to let that keep him from learning everything he could about potions, including the professor, and whatever mayhem may occur outside of it.

After years of days cooking the most basic meals for the Dursleys, he was eager to fall into the calming mindset that he managed to create when he was at the stove, but with magic swirling at his fingertips rather than bland food. During his stay in the alley, he had looked through the potions textbook, skimming recipes and trying to find connections between the ingredients as they were listed in the herbology textbook, and the uses the potions they created had. Stopping by the apothecary and asking the worker to do a basic walkthrough only added to his excitement.

If Professor Snape had a problem with him, for whatever reason, Harry swore to himself he would just become the best student he had, even if it meant more work outside of the classroom.

By the end of the first potions session, Harry couldn’t tell if the professor disliked him, hated him, or just didn’t care enough to have an opinion.

The classroom was fascinating. Situated only a floor above the snake den, the dungeons gave the room a constant chill, which Harry was sure would be helpful once they started brewing with a dozen small fires going. The walls were cluttered with shelves with extra cauldrons, common ingredients, pickled animals that Harry didn’t know the reasoning behind but was morbidly curious about. He instantly pulled out his notes for the class and started a section titled Questions, the first being Were there spells to ensure ventilation?

Ron rolled his eyes at his excitement, and even Hermione smiled at his antics.

The desks were situated for two cauldrons, each with two students working. Ron and Hermione settled at one, and Harry waved over an extremely nervous Neville Longbottom to join him at the other at their table.

Neville gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Potter. I’m rubbish at potions. Plants, that I could do in my sleep, I grew up helping my Gran in the greenhouses at Longbottom Manor. But I can’t do potions. It doesn’t help that Snape terrifies me, it’ll be nice to have a friend to work with.”

Harry hid a smile at the onslaught of information Longbottom didn’t need to give freely and yet did. “Of course, Neville. Please, call me Hadrian.”

Neville nodded, but all trace of cheer drained from his face as the door at the back of the room closed with a sharp click.

Everyone quieted immediately when Professor Snape strode in, cloak billowing behind him.

Snape called roll and then immediately jumped into a lecture about the severity of potions mishaps, and the art that could be achieved if a student was dedicated enough. He didn’t speak above a whisper, but as no one dared disrupt him, each chilling word came across in distinct clarity.

His speech was dramatic, that was for sure. Ron raised an eyebrow at the phrase “bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death” to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but to his exasperation, Harry and Hermione were both leaning forward, swapping eager grins.

“Shall we begin to see what level of idiocy I am to deal with this year? Let’s start with our newest celebrity. Potter!”

Harry was caught between hiding under the table and wanting to prove himself. He dug his thumb into the palm of his shaking hand and raised his eyes to meet Snape’s gaze, only to look back down at the table. “Yes, Professor?”

“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry’s mind raced. Asphodel was used in a variety of healing potions, but wormwood wasn’t. He thought back to one of the supplementary books he and Hermione had debated over on the train, and the list of rare but extraordinary potions.

He didn’t notice Draco Malfoy, at the table next to the three of them, furrow his brow and send his godfather a questioning look. Professor Snape ignored him, eyes only for the boy who couldn’t meet his gaze with those eyes he knew so well.

 “The Draught of the Living Dead, sir. A powerful sleeping potion that causes the drinker to fall into a near-death comatose state.”

Snape nodded. “Correct.” He turned to the Gryffindor side of the room. “Patil! Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

The Gryffindor’s eyes grew, and she looked pleadingly at her yearmates, none of whom seemed to know, or be willing to take the question for her.

Hermione calmly raised her hand, her other hand reaching under the desk to take Harry’s, pulling his thumb away from the irritated skin to loosely intertwine their fingers.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer. “None of the lions seemed to open a textbook before coming to class? Point from Gryffindor. Granger, inform your classmates of the answer?”

“A bezoar can usually be found in emergency medical supplies, as it is an antidote for most poisons. If you were to look for it in its natural form, it is a stone that is grown in the stomach of a goat.” Hermione’s voice was confident, but not overeager, as Harry had told her that apparently it wasn’t the best look to be a teacher’s pet in the wix world.

A nod was all she received from the surly professor. And glares from most of the lions. “Thomas! What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

At the back of the room, a meek voice called out, “I don’t know, sir.”

“Another point from Gryffindor. Anyone care to enlighten us?”

Harry spotted Neville’s hand twitch on the desk. He elbowed the other boy lightly. “Go on, Neville, if you know it.”

Neville gulped but raised a shaking fist in the air.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Very well. Longbottom?”

“Th-there is no difference, sir. They are-are the same plant, also known as ac-aconite.”

Harry grinned at his friend, who turned an alarming shade of red when Professor Snape gave a point to Gryffindor for the correct answer.

“Well? You have the answers, why is no one writing this down?” Immediately there was a range of noises as everyone who hadn’t already (mostly the Gryffindors) pulled out their notes and quills and started scribbling.

Harry was nearly bouncing in his seat with excitement when Snape assigned their pairs to begin a simple Cure for Boils potion. Neville was more than happy to let him take the lead in crushing snake fangs and add dried nettles to the cauldron.

Snape leered over them all, sending sharp words and harsh criticisms to everyone in the room other than Malfoy. Harry, used to hearing such things daily from a sneering Aunt Petunia, was able to parse through the insults and find the actual advice underneath, focusing exclusively on the potion coming together. He also managed to stop Neville from dropping porcupine quills while the cauldron was still boiling, which would have ruined Harry’s cauldron, and more importantly, his first actual potion. Snape, who had turned just in time to begin pulling out his wand to stop the chaos, just gave Harry a sharp nod.

Harry left the potions classroom with a grin, Ron falling back to give Neville advice on how to deal with his brothers, Hermione lacing an arm through Harry’s to discuss the shielded criticism Snape had given them throughout the lesson.

The benefit of having their first class of the day in the dungeons was that they could easily go back to the common room for the following free period. All of the Slytherin first years filed in, a few disappearing down the stairs to take naps, the rest scattered about the common room to take advantage of the upper years still being in class.

The trio settled at a table in front of one of the fires, but near the windows looking out to the Black Lake. Hermione, of course, instantly pulled open her transfiguration textbook, and the boys sprawled across the couch to doze, each propped up on an opposite arm rest. Ron stretched out, barely reaching where Harry curled into himself at the other end.

Harry was just about to fall asleep when a shadow hesitated over him. Ron opened his eyes when he felt Harry tense beside him.

“Can we help you, Malfoy?” Ron drawled, causing the other two to look up at the other student.

“Potter, I don’t mean to dredge up any bad memories, but what was your mother’s maiden name?” Malfoy didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, instead fiddling with a seam on the couch.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, looking back. “Evans. Lily Evans.”

The blonde looked over at Hermione, who watched with a sheltered expression. “Granger, are you familiar with the language of flowers? How certain arrangements can have meaning if you know how to decipher it?”

“I’m familiar with its existence, though I don’t know any off the top of my head. May I ask why?”

He handed her a slim book, with the title Invaluable Ingredients and Their Interesting Interpretations. “I borrowed this from Pansy, so give it to her when you’re done. Look up the answers to the first question Professor Snape referenced at the beginning of class.” He gave them all a brisk nod and walked away, leaving the common room entirely.

They all looked at each other, confusion on each of their faces. Harry sat up, causing Ron to groan as he got kicked in Harry’s fight for freedom. Harry slid to the floor, no longer remotely tired, and pulled out his potions notes and a spare notebook, transferring the questions from earlier on to a clean sheet of paper.

Ron groaned and sat up, the most he was willing to do without a good excuse, and watching his friends pour over a book like it held the answers to the universe was not quite good enough.

Malfoy ignored their frequent looks as the first year Slytherins made their way up to the Transfiguration floor. Harry just had a dazed expression as he thought through the possible meanings of what they had discovered, and Ron and Hermione were arguing in a whisper over the semantics of how many implications floriography could mean.

“Asphodel is a type of lily, Ron!”

“It’s also a cure for a snake bite, which could just be in reference to the snakey Dark Lord in general, Hermione!”

A sigh from behind them made them both look back to Harry. “Could you two stop? We’ll ask Malfoy at lunch why he thought this was important. As it’s my mother that could possibly be referenced, I’d like to hope that my opinion has a little more weight than this completely ridiculous argument.” Harry rolled his eyes and fell back to walk beside Parkinson, handing her the book with a practiced smile, and started a conversation with the hesitant girl.

Hermione shoved gently at Ron’s shoulder. “At the very least, you have to agree that if Professor Snape knows enough about the language of flowers and the like to even allude to something like this, he would know that Harry would assume he meant Lily.”

“I don’t know, Hermione. It just seems a lot to expect of a muggle-raised first year to understand.”

“No matter where Harry came from, he’s a Slytherin now. And Professor Snape would most likely rightly assume that one of the other students would tell Harry what he meant.”

They quieted as they reached the door to the Transfiguration classroom, where Harry shot them a tired look and purposefully sat at a desk with Parkinson, leaving Ron and Hermione to settle at a desk next to them. Pansy didn’t seem to engage with Harry at all until he tapped at a magazine that she had stacked between her textbooks and asked about how transfiguration could be used in fashion. She raised a perfect eyebrow.

“And I’m to expect that you, a muggle-raised eleven-year-old boy, are interested in the inner workings of wixen clothes production?”

Harry laughed, which eked a small smile out of the girl. “Fair, Parkinson. So maybe I’m not interested in fashion, but can’t I be interested in a topic a new friend is interested in?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make presumptions, Potter, you’ve got to do a lot more than ask about fashion to warrant calling each other friends.”

“But it’s a start. We’ll get there, don’t worry.” He gave her a wink and pulled out his notes as Professor McGonagall entered the classroom behind the lingering Gryffindors.

It was clear that Professor McGonagall was not the type to allow students to underperform in her class. She immediately went through an extensive syllabus, stressing the importance of sticking to the letter of the craft. Seeing the glazed expression on the faces of over half the class, she whipped out her wand, changed her desk into a squealing pig, and changed it back, lips twitching as students sat up straighter.

Even with a new interest in the subject of transfiguration, only Parkinson and Hermione managed to complete the task of changing a matchstick into anything other than a matchstick. Pansy was able to completely change the color of the matchstick to a shiny silver, but Hermione made hers a perfect point, looking like a wooden sewing needle. They grinned to each other across the boys as Professor McGonagall awarded Slytherin five points each.

Hermione helped Ron with the movements of the spell, and Pansy simply just watched Harry lose all interest again.

“Much more interested in Potions, Potter? I heard you all talking about ingredients on the way here.” Parkinson looked at her nails as Harry poked at his matchstick.

He side-eyed her, staying silent until she looked up with an amused expression. “Your needle looks a little blunt, there, Parkinson.”

She blushed as she picked up her wand again. “And yours looks completely unchanged. But point made.”

He cast again, and swore that the wood became tinged with silver. His gaze kept flickering over to Parkinson, who frowned as she turned her attention to a new matchstick, but was unable to make more progress. He subtly leaned towards her, settling his chin on his upright arm closest to her. “You may find this surprising, but this type of learning environment is somewhat different to what I experienced in the muggle world. I’m used to a bit more… hands-on learning. I’ll figure it out eventually, but it’s just hard to change my mindset so quickly.”

She turned slightly, watching him from the corner of her eye, and gave him a sharp nod. They sat in silence the rest of the class, and only gave each other a small smile as they headed towards the Great Hall for lunch, Parkinson walking with Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, and Harry falling back with Ron and Hermione.

“New friend?” Ron asked, watching Pansy giggle with the other girls up ahead.

Harry leaned into his side as they walked. “Friend is a strong word. But the less kids that hate me here, the better I’ll feel.”

Ron rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Yes, because a scrawny Indian kid who acts like an overgrown puppy is so easy to hate.”

“He’s got a point. Most of you lot at least know of each other before coming here, and most of the students here have plenty of preconceptions about Harry, and muggleborns in general. The sooner we can change those prejudices, the better.” Hermione looked up from the transfiguration textbook. “Now, are we talking to Malfoy?”

The boys nodded, and they chatted about the best way to get the truth from the blonde as they crossed the castle. As they walked into the Great Hall, their plans were immediately put on hold.

Harry paused at the far end of the Slytherin table to annoy Flick, who, like the other seventh years, already had multiple textbooks open. He gave her an innocent grin before he closed the book she was actively reading from with a thud. She looked at the book, looked up at him, and then back down at the table, before nodding decisively and picking up her full goblet of pumpkin juice. Harry’s eyes widened comically before he sprinted back out of the Great Hall, Flick on his heels, only stopping as they happened to pass Professor Snape in the entryway. They both nodded towards him respectfully, and then immediately set off after he returned the nod. He shook his head with a twist of his lips as he watched his Slytherins sprint through the Entrance Hall. No one who saw it could tell if he was irritated at the childish antics of his snakes, or if… Merlin willing… he was actually amused.

Ron was immediately pulled aside by the twins, who bracketed him and pulled him towards the Gryffindor table, promising it was only for a minute. Hermione just sighed and headed towards the Slytherin table by herself, settling at a plate two down from where Malfoy sat, his own ‘friends’ (Crabbe and Goyle) a few seats further down. She didn’t spare them a glance as she began serving herself, but Malfoy kept watching her between bites of his own food.

The twins stayed true to their word, and she had barely taken her first bite when Ron settled across the table, but in between her and Malfoy. He piled food as he explained how the twins had already tried to rope him into helping them with their pranks and selling schemes by being their source for the dungeons.

Hermione opened her mouth to immediately disregard the idea, but then shrugged. “It may help make quite a few connections, as long as you find a way to set yourself apart so no one idiotically assumes you’re still ‘just another Weasley’.” 

Ron’s grin was blinding. “Yeah, maybe.” He set to eating, having to stop himself a few times when he realized he had his elbows on the table, or about to talk with his mouth full.

Ten minutes into their lunch, an exhausted Harry settled on the other side of Malfoy, breathing heavily. “Well, at the very least, I’ve found a few passageways that no one seems to know about, if the dust is any indication. However, Flick may murder me by the time NEWTs actually come around.”

Malfoy froze as soon as Harry had sat, realizing he was very subtly surrounded by the three unknown factors.

Hermione leaned forward to give Harry an unimpressed look across Malfoy. “Maybe, Hadrian, you could do something novel, such as not irritate her?”

Harry frowned as he sipped at a goblet of water. “No, that doesn’t sound like me at all.” He gave Hermione a cheeky grin and deliberately reached for a plate in front of Malfoy.

The three of them chatted, almost completely ignoring the blonde in between them. He was able to eat stiffly for all of five minutes before Ron leaning across him to drop a dollop of mashed potatoes on Harry’s plate caused his fork to drop to the table with a clatter.

“Something the matter, Malfoy? And here I thought we were getting along so well, what with the information you were so willing to share with no context this morning. Something along the lines of I bitterly regret Lily’s death?” Hermione gave him a sharp grin, one with slightly too much of her rather-large teeth.

He gulped, mechanically picking his fork back up. “I…” He cleared his throat. “If you would like context, perhaps this meaningless show of power can stop?” He turned to raise an eyebrow at Harry.

“Must not be so meaningless if you find it so uncomfortable, Draco. Even so, maybe a, what did you call it, ‘show of power’ like this can make you understand a fraction of the discomfort I’ve felt since our last conversation.” Harry leaned an elbow on the table, turning to face Malfoy more fully. “For example, I know next to nothing about my mother, and you seem to know something, whether that be of your own knowledge or through Professor Snape. And I’d prefer you to share this something, and for that to happen now.”

Malfoy looked down the table towards his friends, but Crabbe and Goyle had started a Gobstones match over their heaping plates, and Parkinson and Zabini had already left the table. With a sigh, he lowered his voice, wincing as this caused the other three to move closer to him.

“Obviously, this is not public knowledge, so I thank you for keeping this amongst yourselves. I think Professor Snape and your mother were friends their first few years at school. I know he was in the same year as your parents. My mother was a few years above them and knew of them from her cousin, who was one of your father’s closest friends. Perhaps, as a favor,” he stressed the word as he looked between them, “I can ask her or my father? They both are close with the professor; he is my godfather, after all.”

Ron and Hermione shared a loaded glance, but didn’t say anything as Harry watched Malfoy for a moment.

Just as Malfoy began to shift uncomfortably, Harry put out his hand, an echo of the day before on the train. “I would appreciate that, Draco.”

The boy flushed with pride and nodded as he shook Harry’s hand. “Anything for a friend, Hadrian.”

“Let’s not rush things, Draco. I don’t think things are going to be that smooth. A cousin, perhaps.” Harry grinned at him with a knowing wink.

 Draco laughed and nodded. “Fair enough. I’d settle for no more ambushes at mealtimes?”

The three of them all rolled their eyes and stood. Hermione wiped her mouth with a napkin before gesturing to the others. “C’mon, we have letters to write. Maybe we can find a nice place outside to work on them before Charms.”

Harry nodded and ate the last of the sandwich on his plate, finishing his water in a few gulps.

Ron was the only one who addressed Malfoy’s plea. “Fat chance there, Draco, you make it too easy.” He gave a mock salute as he grabbed a few meat pies on his way out, instantly shoving them into Harry’s hand as they left the Great Hall.

Avoiding a group of older Gryffindors that didn’t look the friendliest, they ended up settling at a courtyard near the Charms classroom up on the third floor, one that overlooked the Black Lake. Ron and Hermione settled at a stone table, while Harry climbed up onto the railing to sit on the edge of the courtyard, legs dangling over, wind in his hair. He was even more delighted when Hedwig appeared a few moments later, landing beside him to nudge at his hand where he was still holding half a meat pie.

Ron kept an eye on him while Hermione pulled out a notepad and a scroll and began writing out bullet-points for the missive.

The resulting letter was not-so-short and not-so-sweet, but both of the authors were pleased. Hermione tried to hide the shy grin on her face when Ron hugged her in thanks for making him not seem like a scared little kid. The language was all his, only an odd phrase here or there from Harry or Hermione. There were enough sharp words sandwiched between stories of the train ride and their first day to get his point across, while minimizing just how terrified he was at the response, leaving enough in to make his mom realize. Ron, while eyeing Harry enjoying the view, snuck in a little information about his new friends as well.

“Mum and Da,

You probably won’t have heard, because the twins decided to let me be the one to tell you lot. They seem to be taking it well, and Percy even offered take house points off anyone who gives me trouble. Why would anyone give me trouble? Well… I’m the first Weasley to be sorted into Slytherin House in three centuries.

A bit of context. I sat with that boy we helped through the barrier on the train, and a brilliant first-gen witch. We talked the whole way, about the war and our families and what school was going to be like for the kids born in the shadow of the war. I felt so stupid sitting with them, this first-gen who knew more about magic than I could even hope going into first year, and a shy boy who, even when he learned that he would never have a normal school life, was more interested in learning about Potions than his family name.

It turned out that boy was none other than Harry Potter.

It took me a bit to realize that he was more than those stories you used to tell us, every Halloween. To start, he was raised with his mum’s muggle family. And he won’t tell us, but we don’t think it was all roses over there. He apparently disappeared from their house and spent the month since his birthday at the Leaky, and his aunt didn’t even try to find him.

He’s so skinny, Mum. He hates his scar, and won’t meet anyone’s eyes unless he’s royally pissed off. He jumps at noises and hides behind me without even really noticing when people try to look at him. But he’s so eager to learn, to be a part of this world that he should have rightfully known all his life. And even when faced with the people who were loyal to the man who killed his parents, he swore to judge them based on their merits, and not the mindset they inherited, if only they’d do the same.

He's had more taken from him than I can even imagine, and if he can do that to Malfoy and Nott, he’s got me thinking that maybe I should too.

Hermione, too. A first-gen who will probably be judged and spit on by even those who are all for muggleborns joining our community. She knows nothing of politics, nothing of our culture outside of books from Flourish & Blotts, but she’s wicked smart and refuses to let that stop her. More than Hogwarts, too, she’s already asking about all kinds of magic, I think she would really like to know some of that hearth magic you tried to teach us growing up, Mum.

She wants to change the world. And she makes a lot of sense for an eleven-year-old. I can just imagine how much sense she’ll make by the time we graduate.

It wasn’t all that surprising that she was sorted into Slytherin, even as a first-gen. She hadn’t even walked into the school before she was swearing that she would overhaul the whole system. She’s an ambitious snake with the heart of a lion, and I can’t wait to see what she accomplishes. And if all goes well, I’ll be by her side for it.

Harry was a bit of a surprise. He’s the Boy-Who-Lived, son of two of the most Gryffindorish-Gryffindors to grace the halls of Hogwarts. But as I came to learn on the train, and even more so at the Sorting last night, nature of the blood doesn’t always outweigh the scars of nurture.

He looked so scared when he sat down across from Hermione. He knew he was going into a house where he was going to have to fight tooth and nail to be something other than the kid who killed You-Know-Who, someone other than the Golden Boy. But he wants to study Potions and meet all of the magical creatures in the world, and if he has to use his fame to do that, he will.

He doesn’t even know his legacy and he’s already having to fight against it. Only seemed fair I do the same.

I knew I could easily go sit with the twins, Percy being so proud a few feet away. But after a day spent with those two, kids who never had the chance to learn how our world worked before deciding it needed to change, I couldn’t.

I made them a promise to help them navigate our world, and I wouldn’t be able to do that from Gryffindor.

I won’t apologize, because I wouldn’t mean it. House rivalry is immature in the first place, and if the others have an issue with that, they can bring that issue to me in the dungeons. I was not going to let my first real friends be taken away from me because I felt like I was going to disappoint my family if I didn’t follow the path laid out for me.

Even the hat seemed to think Slytherin was a good idea. And who am I to argue with a relic said to have been charmed by the founders themselves?

At the very least, being friends with these two will force me to take my academics seriously. After only one lesson, Harry’s already talking about potion experiments he wants to try, and I swear Hermione’s got a study plan laid out until midterms already. I doubt I’ll ever catch up to them, or be as eager to learn. But I decided to try and look at school and all of these people like a game of chess.

And I was never one to turn down a chess challenge.

Give my love to Ginny, I promise I’ll write her later this week.

Yours in green,

Ron”

He rolled it up, tied it closed with a bit of string, and looked over to where Harry was having a staring contest with Hedwig. “Hey, mate, mind if I borrow her to send this off? Since she’s already here and all.”

Harry turned and shot him a grin. “Course. At least she’ll get some exercise, it’s not like I have many people to write to.” He whipped his head back to glare at his owl. “You blinked while I wasn’t looking, didn’t you? Cheater.”

She cooed at him before hopping a bit down the railing, one leg stretched towards Ron.

A few minutes later, she had taken off towards Devon. Hermione and Harry leaned against Ron, who was worrying at his nails as he watched his letter disappear.

“Well, Ron, time to teach me how to play Gobstones. Crabbe and Goyle looked like they were having fun at lunch, and Flick made me buy a set and never got around to telling me how it worked.”

Ron laughed as he pulled away, heading back towards the table. “And you just assume I have a set on me?”

“Don’t you?” Harry gave him an amused look.

“Point. Hermione?”

“Absolutely not, that smell was foul. I’ll stay over here and read, thank you very much.”

Charms seemed like it was going to be a bit more fun, if only due to how excited Professor Flitwick was to teach them. Harry contained his eye roll and gave the professor the realest looking fake smile he could when the small wizard fell over in excitement upon reading Harry’s name in roll call. Unlike their first two classes of the day, Professor Flitwick simply lectured, showing them a few spells to impart the usefulness of charms. Aqua Eructo caused a massive dragon made of water to appear in the center of the classroom, and Baubillioius sent a wicked beam of lightning through it, streaks of power ricocheting throughout in a brilliant display. Pansy, who had elected to sit with Harry again, shot him a grin that he returned.

“I love magic,” he whispered to her, causing her to attempt to cover a laugh with a cough.

The next class, however, was the exact opposite of Charms. A Slytherin-only class, they filed into a small study room in the library (Ron and Harry had to keep Hermione on track, her eyes were anywhere but where she was going) to sit at tables heaving with thick tomes.

A thin, reedy man (“Professor Boulin, if you please”) was perched on a desk at the front of the room, and immediately began his lecture with an apology for the less-than-exciting nature of learning Latin, but how important it was for spell-casting, unless you wanted to end up crushed under a water buffalo.

It was, at least, a short class, each student carrying a packet of homework to be completed by the end of the month. Harry was still skimming through it as he followed his friends out of the room.

“Hermione, no. Not on the first day of class. There’s only an hour until dinner, and you know that’s not enough time for you to get even partially satisfied with exploring.”

“Ron, please, we’re already here!”

“Look, how about this. We only have one class after lunch on Friday. That’ll give us two hours until the start of dinner, three until we’d need to leave to catch the end. We’ll come here right after Transfiguration, Harry and I can start working on our homework, as Merlin knows you’ll already have most of it done, and you can explore without us waiting around for you.”

Hermione bit her lip, looking up at the seemingly endless shelves reaching towards the vaulted ceilings. “Promise?”

Ron laughed but nodded. “Harry?”

He looked up, blinking at the two. “Huh? Oh. Library after Transfiguration on Friday. Sure. I have a few books I’ll want to try to find as well, Professor Snape mentioned an experimental Potions report in a Potions Monthly edition, and Flick said they’d have back issues here.”

“When did you talk to Flick about Potions?” Hermione’s attention moved reluctantly to Harry, who was still skimming his Latin work as he walked out of the library. “Harry?”

“What? Oh, we talked after she got me with the pumpkin juice at lunch. Professor McGonagall had passed by, and when I stopped to let her pass, Flick nailed me. McGonagall gave her a look and then hit me with a drying charm, and Flick and I walked back down to the Entrance Hall together, and I told her about how Professor Snape seemed to be a little more harsh towards me than the other Slytherins, but how I got the potion almost exactly right, and we started talking.”

“Did you tell her about what Malfoy said?” Ron put out a soft hand to get Harry to stop walking.

“No, of course not. I’m not going to go around broadcasting something like that. Even if Professor Snape seems to hate me, I have more respect for him than that. Can we go back to the dungeons? I want to try and find a room for us to hang out in that isn’t the common room, just in case we need to study but don’t want to trek up here to the library.”

Ron and Hermione traded a look, Hermione smiling softly at Harry and Ron just shrugging. “Sure, mate. Maybe Hermione can find a few privacy spells or something that we can use to make it ours.”

“Wards would work better, but we’re still a little young to be able to use them reliably. I’m willing to try, though.” Hermione immediately reached into her bag and looked for a scroll of parchment to take notes on.

Harry stopped her, instead reaching into his own bag, arm disappearing up to his shoulder.

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “You have an expandable charm on your bag?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I bought it like this. It’s a limited charm, apparently the Ministry limits the capacity for minors, and I haven’t had a chance to try and break the charm to make it bigger.” He pulled out a small spiral notebook, one that fit in his palm, and a pencil. “Here, might be easier to keep a to-do list on this rather than on a roll of parchment with a quill.”

“Thanks, Harry. Let me know what store you got that in, maybe I can talk my parents into stopping at Diagon before we head to Paris for the Christmas hols.”

“Ooh, Paris? You’ll definitely want to stop by Wiseacre’s before you go there, as I’ll be expecting souvenirs.” He shot her a wink.

“Maybe if you two are lucky.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and started scribbling in the notebook.

They spent the next hour and a half exploring the dungeons, getting a feel for where the Slytherin territory ended, the different study rooms available to them. They narrowly avoided Marcus and Terry, Flick’s younger brother, who were taking out their stress in a duel in one of the warded rooms. They still hadn’t found a spot of their own yet, but there were plenty of places to disappear to when the common room got too loud. Hermione in particular was enthralled by the Slytherin Library, which had a variety of books not likely to be found in the Hogwarts library, if only because they tended to be family heirlooms that were donated to the House. The library needed a separate password to enter, and no books were allowed to leave. Luckily, Flick was more than happy to let them know the password, running into their explorations as she was heading to the library to start on a NEWT project for one of her classes.

“Just make sure you respect everything in that room, the alumni don’t like to hear about any accidents.” She yawned as she led them into the room, Hermione immediately disappearing down one of the aisles.

“First day and you’re already exhausted? Why didn’t you drop a few NEWTs?” Ron could feel himself become his mother while he worried over his new friend.

Flick just laughed. “As if my father would approve of my dropping classes. No, I’m playing along like the good heiress I am, and then once I graduate I’m running off and leaving the title to Terry, who actually is interested in all of the political bullshite. Meanwhile I’ll be joining a band or something equally scandalous.”

Harry, who had heard her humming while she worked at Flourish & Blotts, grinned excitedly. “Need a sponsor? That would be wicked.”

She ruffled his hair as she threw her bag onto one of the tables. “Talk to me after graduation, sprog, and we’ll see.”

It took them fifteen minutes to coax Hermione away from the books, swearing that she had seven whole years to explore the extent of the Slytherin Library. They wandered up to dinner, and Harry groaned at Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass glaring at each other, their friends warily watching the showdown.

“I don’t have the patience for politics right now. Ron, do you think the twins would mind us sitting with them?”

Ron had already waved them down, and they gestured to open seats around them, as the Gryffindors didn’t tend to sit by year.

The three snakes grinned at the Weasley twins, ignoring the looks of many students who watched them cross into what was considered ‘enemy territory’.

Harry settled by Neville, immediately starting a conversation about how excited the other boy must be for Herbology the next day. Hermione was chatting with Dean Thomas, who was muggleborn (as far as he knew, his dad left before he was born), about if anyone was giving him a hard time. Ron was telling the twins about his letter home, and how he hoped they would back him up if their parents weren’t thrilled. The conversations were flowing naturally, no one really noticing another red head at the table, until Seamus Finnegan turned away from talking to Lily Moon to realize the Boy-Who-Lived was across the table from him.

“Blimey, what are you lot doing over here? This table is for Gryffindors, not some evil snakes!” The Irish boy scooted down, away from the three of them, and even further when he saw a wicked gleam in the twin’s eyes.

“Aw, Finnegan, that’s so sweet to hear that you’re terrified of a couple of eleven-year-olds who aren’t even two days into lessons. But we’re not here for you, so continue eating.” Harry glared at him, unblinking and firm.

“It’s against the rules, Potter. Get back to your own kind.”

Any student who heard his comment turned to look incredulously at him.

Hermione jumped in. “Actually, Finnegan, the school charter has no official rules about where students have to sit outside of feasts and official events. As today is just another day, we have every right to eat with our friends, which, as Harry said, doesn’t include you.”

Some of the older years snickered. One of them, who had a gleaming captain’s badge on his robes, started serving dollops of potatoes onto the plates in front of the Slytherins.

Finnegan turned a bright red, even more so when he saw that Thomas was more than happy to have a conversation with Hermione.

“As I was saying, Ron’s offered to give Harry and I a bit of an introduction to the wizarding world, and we may get some of the upper years from different houses involved as well. A little “Intro to Wix” class. We can keep you informed, if you’d like? Even if things are a little more lax in Gryffindor, it wouldn’t hurt to know some of the customs expected of you outside of the school.”

Dean was already nodding. “That would be brill, thanks, Granger. Never thought I’d be asking for extra classes, but you’re right. I can already tell there are little details I’m missing, like a joke that has insider context.”

“Of course. I’ll be sure to flag you down in class once we figure it out.” She gave him a grin, mentally adding his name to the roster of first-gens that wanted to learn about this culture they were thrust into.

The group was laughing at a story the twins were telling when a timid shadow was cast over them, causing them all to look up towards the Hufflepuff table.

Harry squinted up, quickly giving a smile to the newcomer. “Hi, Hannah, how’s life in the badger den?”

“Hiya, Hadrian. Things are great! Couldn’t help but overhear Granger here talking about a first-gen class? Susan and I could help, if you’d like. Mainly Sue, since her aunt has such a prestigious position in the Ministry, and she could probably write to her for all sorts of advice.”

Hermione looked up with wide eyes. “That would be great, Abbott, thanks! Let me know if there’s a day that works best for you, we’ll figure out a schedule and a meeting place that is a little more central to all of the houses.”

Hannah nodded. “Sure! Do you mind if we invite some people? There’s a muggleborn in our year that has been asking all sorts of questions, and I think you lot would love him. He’s a little bit of a snob, but nowhere near Malfoy levels. I could introduce you before things get started?”

“Course, maybe we’ll eat at with the Hufflepuffs another time this week, and you can do the introductions. But if you’re vouching for him, I’m sure he’s an alright guy.” Harry shot her a wink, causing her to blush slightly.

“Cheers, Hadrian. I’ll let you get back to dinner. Don’t forget me and Sue when you start study groups!” She gave the rest of them a cheerful wave and headed back down the table where Susan Bones was waiting.

“Blimey, Hermione, the first full day of school and you’re already starting a coup.” One of the twins tsked, winking at her when she glared.

“I hardly think trying to educate first-gens so they’re on even footing with the rest of you lot can be considered a coup. But if that’s what it takes, then fine. Thomas, you don’t mind joining a coup, do you?”

Dean laughed. “Honestly, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing this place has to offer. Sign me up, Queen Granger.”

The rest of the table joined in laughing, and Ron dutifully got out a scroll and scribbled his name under the heading Hogwarts Coup of 1991.

By the end of dinner, the sign-up sheet had three dozen names under it, somehow even getting to other houses, and Hermione’s elegant signature at the bottom claiming them all as her faithful attendants.

Walking into History of Magic the next morning was exciting—having a ghost as a professor surely would be amazing, someone who lived through much of the history he was describing. Harry changed his mind about that five minutes into the lesson, when the droning of Binns almost immediately had everyone nodding back to sleep. Millicent Bulstrode managed to stay awake, but was seemingly scoffing throughout the lesson. Hermione, ever the eager learner, prodded the boys awake, and while she took notes, they whispered about Snape and Harry’s mom’s possible connection, and whether or not they dared to ask.

Ron was under the impression that Harry could just force Malfoy, who was technically a child of the Black Family through his mother and under Harry’s influence as Heir Black, to find out the truth.

Harry didn’t want his first official act as Heir to be forcing his cousin to betray secrets.

When the class was over, Binns barely noticing the exodus of students as he floated backwards through the chalkboard, Ron used his height to snag the notes Hermione had taken. Heading down the stairs in front of his friends, Ron held the notes up above his head as Hermione laughed, using her advantage of being on a taller step to jump on his back to get them back.

“Ron, no, you didn’t pay attention, you don’t get notes!” She jumped on Ron’s back, trying to reach her parchment as he just kept walking, a hand on her leg hoisting her up as they walked out of the room.

“C’mon, Hermione, if I copy them it’ll be just like hearing them!”

“In what world?”

Harry laughed as he followed, picking up Hermione’s stray bag as she failed to grab at her notes. “What are we doing for our free block? We have Herbology before lunch, do we want to visit Hagrid before or after class?”

Ron turned back to Harry, which distracted him enough for Hermione to grab her notes and shift on his back, peering at Harry over his shoulder.

“It’s the first day of class, Herbology probably won’t be too long, so we’ll probably have time to visit Hagrid and still grab lunch before Defense,” Ron reasoned, adjusting Hermione so she was more settled.

Hermione peeked out. “We could go to the library.”

“No, we said no library until at least Friday, Hermione, and you agreed.” Harry rolled his eyes as they headed down the stairs.

She just sighed. “Fine, what are we doing, then?”

Ron pointed across the entrance hall as they reached the bottom of the moving stairs. “We could see what Flick is yelling at Fred and George about.”

Harry laughed. “That’s a start.”

The three of them crossed through the students heading to their next class, stopping just a few feet away from the Head Girl and the twins.

“–and you thought that the prefect’s bathroom was going to be the best choice for your prank?”

One of the twins shrugged. “We don’t know what you’re talking about, Higgs.”

The other one scratched at the back of his neck. “How would we even know where the prefect’s bathroom is?”

“We’re only third years, after all.”

"And we would never do anything that would put our fellow students at risk, would we Forge?”

“Especially not our esteemed prefects, Gred.”

Flick crossed her arms. “A Slytherin prefect watched you walk away with the seat. A Ravenclaw student saw you mailing a large package. I may not be top of the class, but I can put together the facts, Weasleys.”

“Absurd, your honor. We would never.”

“Who would we even send a toilet seat to?”

“I don’t care, and you’re in detention with McGonagall Friday night. Enjoy missing the Gryffindor welcome back party.”

The twins groaned and stumbled, patting themselves and claiming they’d been wounded, chasing after Flick as she walked away.

Harry glanced at Ron, eyebrow raised. He shrugged. “I think they promised Ginny a toilet seat, since she’s the last one home. Mum told them off, but it’s not like that’s ever stopped them before.”

Hermione had a look of disgust on her face. “I don’t even want to know why.” She wrapped an arm around Ron’s shoulders. “Can we go outside? It’s a nice day, and if we’re not doing anything until after Herbology I want to read our textbook.”

“Don’t you mean reread?” Harry reached up and tugged at one of her curls, ignoring her swat. “I’d like to sit outside for a while. If we think Ron can manage it without burning to a crisp.”

“I’ll have you know, while my delicate complexion may be strange to you two, I don’t burn that easily. I have more class than to get sunburnt.” Ron stuck his nose in the air, for all the world looking like the ginger version of Malfoy.

The other two laughed as they wove around the milling students, heading towards one of the back entrances to the castle that Flick showed them the night before. Soon enough, they were blinking at the sun, Hermione pointing towards a bench in the shade.

“Ron, there! That way you can sit out of the sun and Harry and I can enjoy the warmth!” She shrieked as Ron twisted suddenly, almost displacing her from his back.

“How dare you. Wait until my father hears about this.” He strode across the courtyard, allowing a laughing Hermione to step onto the bench.

Harry held out a hand to help her down, handed her the bag he had been carrying, and settled on the grass in the sunlight. “How long do you think it’ll stay warm?” He took off his outer robe, using it as a blanket under him.

“I reckon we have a few weeks. Maybe October?” Ron sprawled over the stone bench, using his bag as a pillow.

Hermione settled on the ground beside him, leaning against his leg as she pulled out a book. “I’m not looking forward to Herbology in the winter. Remind me to look up a heating charm before the first snowfall.”

“I’ll be asking for that a lot sooner than the first snow, I guarantee.” Harry stretched like a cat, basking in the sun’s rays.

“You could just learn it yourself.”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“It will sound like you if you want to be warm on the way to class in a few weeks.”

“C’mon, Hermione, you wouldn’t let me freeze, would you?”

“I hardly think walking a few hundred meters in the snow will cause you to freeze, Hadrian.”

“Do you really want to take that bet, though?” Harry turned to look at her, sending an innocent pout her way.

“Don’t even try, Potter, I’m not falling for that.” She barely gazed at him as she flipped a page in her Herbology textbook.

“You’re no fun, Granger.” He laughed as he closed his eyes, relishing in the warmth.

The next thing he knew, Ron was poking his side with his foot. “C’mon, mate, we’ve got fifteen minutes to get to the greenhouse, and Hermione wants to find a good spot or something. Up and at ‘em.”

Harry groaned before taking Ron’s outstretched hand, letting the taller boy pull him up.

“Nice nap?” Hermione raised an eyebrow from where she was brushing grass off of her skirt.

“Brill, thanks.” He picked up his robes and shrugged them back on, following his friends down the path towards the greenhouses.          

Their first Herbology class had Harry hooked immediately, loving the feel of dirt under his hands when it wasn’t in the hot sun with Petunia over his shoulder. The jolly Professor Sprout walked around with an ever-present smile, asking occasional questions as she lectured.

It helped that Hannah and Susan were at the table next to them, with the puppy-like energy of Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Hermione, pride clear in her shoulders, raised her hand for the first question. Of course she knew the difference between muggle and magical daisies, and her smile was blinding as the professor praised her.

That smile fell abruptly when the next question was posed to a Gryffindor, who stumbled their way through a guess about Devil’s Snare with whispered help from Neville. After hearing Professor Sprout cheerily say “five points to Gryffindor,” Harry and Ron watched something inside of Hermione break.

She pulled her curls back under her hair wrap with a scowl. “One day, all the world will see, regardless of how many House Points we’ve won.”

Harry and Ron both put a hand on her shoulder from where she was between them. “You’re terrifying, Hermione. But you know we’ll be behind you laughing when you scare the hell out of the entire Wizarding World.” Ron shot a grin when she glared at him.

Harry just watched her, amused. “How in Merlin’s name were you almost a hatstall, Granger?”

She huffed, before wilting under his smile with a small one of her own. “As if the Hat would consider putting me in Hufflepuff. But the other three, yes.” She shrugged, shifting to move closer to the boys so they could whisper between each other as they took notes on the plants in front of them.

“The Hat asked what I wanted. And of course, I said I wanted to learn all I could. When it asked why… I thought back to what you said on the train, Harry. And you were right. I want to use it, for equality, for the next generation, for all of those who don’t have to opportunity to learn. So it put me in Slytherin for my ambitions. It said Slytherin would help me sharpen my goals to something that’s doable, so I can become someone who could change the Wizarding World.”

Harry could see that she almost salivated at the thought.

In that moment, Harry realized. That he didn’t want to be the hero. That’s not where his ambitions lay, not where they’d ever been. He’d only been in the Wizarding World for a month, at school for four days, and the fame of being a hero was exhausting. Why waste his energy on being the one in charge, all he wanted is to be free. Free of being under the stairs, under the thumb of his muggles, free of the weight of being the Boy-Who-Lived. Discovering why he can talk with snakes, and what animals the magical world might have for him.

He didn’t need to be running the world for that, just being in it is enough, he can use his power for other things, for his friends. He wanted to be a quirky side character to Hermione’s story, wanted to stand to the side with Ron as their friend turns into a menace to society, all in the name of social change. He’d provide the snark, Ron would provide the humor, and together they’d change the world. A glance from an amused Ron just confirmed their place.

Hermione was ignoring the look they passed to each other behind her head. “Of course, it’ll take me a while to get to a place of power. That’s what Harry’s for.”

Harry laughed, and she smacked his arm for being too loud after Professor Sprout shot them a look. “That’s what I’m for? Here I thought we were friends, Hermione, and now I’m learning you’re using me for my name.”

She turned her smack into just a gentle pat on his shoulder. “For now, at least. I can’t make too much of an impact right now, no one would take me seriously. I’ll let Harry open the doors, and I’ll sneak in behind, and by the time people realize that I’m taking advantage of my friend’s fame to get places, I’ll already be their boss and they won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“What if I don’t want to open any doors?” Harry whined softly, thinking of the sycophants he had already met.

Ron chimed in as he itched his nose, unknowingly getting a smudge of dirt there. “Harry, this is going to happen whether you want or not. Every kid born in our world was raised hearing your name, and I guarantee you’re in at least one of the books on the muggleborn list has some version of your story in it. You’re a Slytherin, you know how beneficial that is, and how to use it. It’d be stupid not to. At the very least, learn to use your power over Malfoy to get him to stop being a dolt.”

Harry sighed as the three turned back to their work after Professor Sprout walked behind them with a pointed cough.

Ron smirked as they walked out of the greenhouse.

The other two just rolled their eyes. “Yes, Ron, you’re such a Seer, being able to foretell that class would let out early. Hagrid’s before lunch?” Hermione peered down the hill, where Flick had mentioned Hagrid’s cabin to be on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry dusted off his robes as the rest of their class headed back to the castle. “Please. He knew my parents, but I’m not sure how he’ll be with me being in Slytherin. I’d appreciate the back up, and I know you two will ease the way, a first gen wix and a Weasley.” Harry smoothed down his hair and put his usual beanie on his head.

“Oh, so we’re just a buffer? Nice to know.” Ron raised a playful eyebrow as Harry scoffed.

“Yeah, sure. As if after the conversation we just had, either of you are allowed to complain about me using you.”

Hermione laughed as she pulled Harry’s arm. “Come on, I see Hagrid outside his hut. Introduce us properly.”

They headed down the winding path, and Harry called out to the groundskeeper, who hesitated at three green robes, but waved back all the same. A large boarhound bounded from his side and sprinted towards the three. Ron and Hermione both veered away, but Harry immediately knelt to get bowled over by the dog, laughing as slobber joined with dirt and ruined his clothes.

“Fang, leave off!” Hagrid’s booming voice called, and the dog gave one final lick to a beaming Harry’s face and trotted back down to his owner.

“Honestly, Harry, you’re a mess and we still have afternoon classes,” Hermione’s voice mirrored her face, unamused as Ron hauled Harry back to his feet.

The boy just shrugged with a smile. “I’ll just get Flick or one of the prefects to do a refresher charm at lunch. Hiya, Hagrid!”

“Harry, didn’t expect to see ya so soon.” Hagrid turned ruddy as he awkwardly ran a hand through his bushy beard.

“We had herbology before lunch, and since we were let out early and were already on this side of the castle, I thought I could introduce you to my friends. We aren’t intruding, are we?”

Staring down at Harry’s beaming face, Hagrid gave a small smile. “Course not, come on in, I’ve got a pot on the fire, we’ll have a spot of tea before lunch. Fang, inside.”

As soon as the man turned towards his home, Harry’s smile faded. “This is going to be exhausting,” he whispered, taking a deep breath.

Ron laughed, putting an arm around his shoulders to get close enough to lower his voice as well. “Get used to it, mate. You’re the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-In-Slytherin, that look’s gonna be what you get for a while.”

Harry groaned, pulling away from his friend to go up the stairs. “Can we not add more hyphens to that absurd moniker, please.”

The other two laughed as Hagrid closed the door of the room behind them. A kettle was already boiling on the fire, and Fang immediately bounded back over to Harry.

“Hagrid, this is Ron Weasley, and that’s Hermione Granger. We shared a car in the train yesterday and have decided to take over Slytherin House.”

This statement had Hagrid eyeing their robes once more, but then his eyes drifted up to the mop of red hair. “Another Weasley, eh?”

Ron gave a grin. “Yes, sir. Youngest son of the Prewett-Weasleys.” As soon as Hagrid turned to fuss with the tea, his grin turned to a grimace. “At least I’m right there with you, mate,” he whispered.

Hagrid handed them all a too-large mug. “You lot call me Hagrid, nonnuh that sir nonsense. I spend half the year chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest.” He turned to Hermione, who had perched on the edge of an overstuffed armchair. “And yer a muggleborn, eh? Strange to see you in green.”

“Well, luckily ambition doesn’t come from bloodlines. Thank you for the tea, Hagrid, it’s quite nice after a long day of classes.” She sipped at her mug, denying the plate of what Hagrid called rock cakes as he held it out. “No thank you, we do have lunch here in a bit. Maybe next time.” She gave him an eager grin. “Harry told us you had an interest in dragons and other creatures. What type of dragons are local to the area? Obviously the muggles don’t know that dragons are real, it was such a surprise to learn that there are actual dragon preserves.”

“Ay, dragons have always been a fav’rite o’ mine. Ron, isn’t yer older brother off on one o’ them reserves, now? He was a good kid, always came round when one o’ the animals was bout to calf.”

As Ron and Hagrid talked about Charlie’s job, Harry caught a glimpse of a newspaper clipping on the coffee table near Hermione’s chair. He scanned the title with a raised eyebrow. Break In at Gringotts. On his birthday, mere hours after he and Hagrid were in the Alley. He was surprised that none of the shopkeepers on the Alley, or even Griphook himself, had mentioned this to him the rest of the month.  He had a letter to write, at the very least.

Harry caught Hermione’s eye and tapped the clipping after ensuring that Ron was still distracting Hagrid. Her brow furrowed as she looked back to him.

“Later,” he mouthed, before joining the conversation about other preserves that had been created for magical creatures, namely the one Newt Scamander and his family ran in America.

Twenty minutes later, the three bid farewell to Hagrid as they ran up to the castle to catch the last of the lunch period before their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

“Well, that wasn’t horrible,” Ron drawled as they climbed the hill, waving to Professor Sprout outside of Greenhouse Three.

“Harry? What was that about that clipping?” Hermione watched her new friend carefully.

“What clipping?”

“Hagrid had a newspaper clipping from last week. It talked about a break in at Gringotts. That break in happened on July 31^st. My birthday, the same day Hagrid and I just happened to be in Diagon. The same day one of Dumbledore’s most trusted men got something out of a secret vault at the bank. And not to belittle Hagrid, but he does seem like the type to have a clipping from the paper that even slightly had something to do with him, especially one that frames him in the light of a hero for thankfully emptying the vault mere hours before someone tried to rob it. Hagrid was so thrilled that Dumbledore asked him to pick up that package. And now there’s a section of the castle that is off-limits, which according to upper years is strange. The only question now is, what is the package, and why did Dumbledore think that this school full of minors was a safer place to keep it than what is widely considered the safest building in the world?”

“Harry, do you really think the two are connected? Sure, it’s a major coincidence, but do you really think that whoever broke in was going for that package?” Hermione bit her lip, which the boys were learning was her ‘I’m thinking but I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say’ look.

“Hermione, I’ve only been in the wix world a month, and I’m already coming to the horrid realization that with me around, coincidences are much more than that.”

Ron laughed, only to shrug when Hermione turned to glare at him. “He’s got a point, Hermione. He’s the Boy-Who-Lived, and we’re only in first year and things have already started to get weird.”

“I’m not saying we have to do anything, Hermione. But like you said on the train, you’d prefer to be overinformed than unprepared. And knowing that whatever might be hidden on the third floor could be bigger than just Hogwarts is definitely something we need to know.” Harry gave her an innocent smile.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing his arm gently to pull him into the Great Hall, Ron loping in behind them. “We’ll see about that.”

The next Potions lesson ended with Harry almost getting a perfect potion, and almost a detention.

For nothing.

So Harry screwed up every ounce of courage that years with the Dursleys had battered down, and pushed Ron and Hermione ahead, leaving him alone with the surly Potions professor.

He didn’t notice Malfoy, who had been watching him carefully ever since he apparently received a letter from his mother instructing him not to piss off the Heir of one of their families and his cousin (Pansy found this hilarious), duck down under the pretense of fixing a scroll that had fallen open.

“Excuse me, Professor Snape. May I have a moment?”

“It depends on how you use it.” The professor looked up and visibly set his jaw when he saw who was waiting. “What do you want, Potter.”

“I may not understand everything that… transpired between you and my parents. And to be frank, I don’t care. I have no memories of them, and I would assume that any similar qualities between us were stomped out by Petunia Dursley and her family. I apologize for any discomfort I may cause for you in the way of the memories you actually have maintained, but I have no control over that. What I do have control of, is my progress at this school. And I am telling you now, sir, that potions and Care of Magical Creatures are going to be my two favorite subjects, and therefore my two best subjects. Outside of class, feel free to treat me however you wish. But when I am trying to learn the skill that you have mastered so early in your career, please give the entire class the courtesy of letting me.”

Harry took a deep breath and watched the color fade back into the professor’s face.

He couldn’t quite tell what was going through his mind, but his jaw had softened.

“Detention, tonight, Potter, for your impertinence.”

Harry just nodded. “Of course, sir. Apologies for my ill manners, they are just one of the many areas where my education has lacked up until now.”

He was dismissed, and rolled his eyes as Draco followed him out.

“Just in case, Heir Black. My mother would kill me if I let anything happen to you, especially at the hands of my godfather.”

Detention that night was the best night of Harry’s life. Snape still lurked over him, harsh words at each action as he prepared ingredients for the next class, but the words were actually informative, a mix of explaining how the ingredients themselves worked, and why they needed to be diced or chopped correctly to make the potion. Harry learned more in that two hour detention than he had in the entire week up until now.

Ron was horrified at the gleeful look on Harry’s face when he got back to the common room, but Hermione just laughed and pestered Harry for notes.

Snape wasn’t necessarily nice after that, but Harry would like to think that they came to an understanding. And over the following classes (and the odd times of day that Harry would be bored and show up in the empty classroom to pelt the man with questions), Harry learned the various expressions of the professor, and an unspoken truce was made.