Moony & Bambi

Harry wished that he wasn’t famous for something that he didn’t remember.

For one, students stared openly at him, mostly looking at the scar on his head. For another, there was a bit of whispering about how he did it exactly. 

He was thankful for Ron and Draco, who acted as though he was just a normal boy and talked about the things that they enjoyed as they walked from class to class. They often asked Harry questions about the Muggle world, which he answered, mostly because he found that he didn’t mind it – in fact, it helped him stay grounded and ignore the staring.

He was relieved to find that everyone was on the same page as him, and that Hermione remembering all of their set text books for the year was just her, though he had admitted that she was quite smart. He half wondered what his mum was like when she arrived at Hogwarts, but he needed to focus on his lessons.

It took most of his self-control to not call McGonagall ‘Aunt Minnie’, though he did call her Tía a few times. Some of the students looked at him funny, but then, most of the students in the school stared at him. Harry had grown used to it.

History of Magic was boring. He didn’t know how Moony had excelled in the subject, as the teacher, Professor Binns, droned on in a monotone voice while the class scrambled to write notes and tried not to yawn. Never mind the fact that he was a literal ghost. Harry managed to keep up by reading the material in his own time once he’d finished his other homework.

Of course, the first week of lessons was just the theories of the subjects. Harry didn’t mind. They would learn how to do the actual magic part later, when deemed ready.

Harry sent letters home to Mary, telling her about his time at Hogwarts. At night he snuck down to the common room and whispered into the mirror, talking to Moony, telling him about the day he’d had.

That first Friday, they managed to get to the Great Hall without getting lost. Harry counted this as a win, because he didn’t need to follow one of the older students to the Great Hall. 

Draco, Ron and Harry sat down at the table, and began to eat. They were talking about their subjects, curious as to what they had that day.

The owls flew in, carrying the mail. A large, regal eagle owl landed in front of Draco, a letter tied to its leg along with the usual parcel of sweets and cakes from his mother. His face paled as he recognised the handwriting.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked. 

“It’s from my father,” Draco said. He untied the parcel and letter from the owl’s leg. The bird flew off, and Draco stuffed the letter into his bag.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Ron asked. Draco shook his head.

“Not where anyone can read it,” he said. 

“Don’t worry about your dad just yet, Draco. He’s a complete idiot if he says that you need to be in Slytherin,” Harry told Draco. 

“Thanks, Harry.”

“No problem,” Harry simply replied.

They had Potions with the Slytherins that day. Harry wasn’t too sure what to expect, but he knew that the Potions Master, Professor Snape, was very biassed. He had a feeling that it was going to be an interesting lesson.

Professor Snape read through the roll. He gave Draco a disapproving look, sneering at the red and gold on his robes. This made Draco shrink into himself slightly. Ron and Harry glared at the teacher.

Then he got to Harry’s name.

“Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity…” he said, somewhat cruelly. A few of the Slytherins sniggered, but Harry ignored them, holding his head up. So what, if some people decided to make fun of him? He’d been bullied by Dudley and his gang, and he’d begged Moony to teach him how to punch. He was as equipped as a child needed to be.

Snape, apparently, had decided to do his best to humiliate Harry – or at least get him wound up.

After his (in Harry’s opinion) over-dramatic introduction to the class, he rounded on Harry.

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

Does he seriously expect me to remember everything in my textbooks?! Harry thought to himself. He knew that saying this out loud was a stupid idea. After all, Moony and Mary had told Harry about Snape. He was a nasty person.

So Harry went with the best next option.

“I don’t have a clue what those things are, because I am unable to remember things with just a flip through my textbook,” he said. 

Oh, well. It was better than the snarky comment he made in his head. 

Snape tutted, and Harry had to hold back the eyebrow raise.

“Clearly, fame isn’t–”

“I was raised away from the whole fame thing,” Harry told him.

“Pardon?”

“I said that I was raised away from the whole fame thing. My biological aunt and uncle hate magic, and never told me about it. Uncle Moony and Auntie Mary, however, most definitely wanted to tell me about the whole fame thing, but they never did until I got my letter.” A few Gryffindors were smiling, hiding their grins behind their hands and shooting Harry discrete thumbs up. Except for Hermione, who was looking at Harry as though he had grown an extra head or two.

“What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“I explained to you that I don’t know,” Harry told Snape. He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you ask Hermione, I’m pretty sure you won’t get an answer.” For Hermione’s hand was high in the air, eager to prove herself to the Potions Master.

“Where would you find a bezoar?”

“I’m eleven and literally none of us know that stuff! It’s why you’re a teacher,” Harry shot back.

“Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter,” Snape said. Harry rolled his eyes when the teacher turned his back.

“Acabo de conocerte y ya te odio,” he muttered. Snape didn’t hear him, which was good. Although, even if he did, he wouldn’t understand a single word. He began to wonder how far he could go.

They began to make a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around the dungeon, making comments about everyone’s potions. The Slytherins were given tips, while the Gryffindors just got a horrible comment and no help at all. This made Neville panicky, and eventually there was a puff of green smoke as his cauldron melted and he was drenched in his potion. Students climbed onto their stools to prevent the soles of their shoes from having holes burned into them.

“Idiot boy!” Snape snarled. Neville whimpered – he had begun to sprout boils on the areas that had been drenched in the potion.

Snape cleared away the potion with a sweep of his wand. “Take him to the hospital wing,” he snapped at Seamus. Seamus didn’t say anything, just walked with Neville out of the dungeon. “You – Potter – why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought that it would make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point from Gryffindor.”

Harry waited until Snape was on the other side of the dungeon with the Slytherins before muttering about the unfairness of it all under his breath in rapid Spanish. Of course, this involved some swearing, but it was better than nothing.

Harry was pissed off at Snape when he left an hour later. 

“Thought that Neville messing up his potion would make me look good? Why would I need to? I’m already bloody famous for something that I don’t even remember,” he muttered to Ron and Draco.

“Cheer up, mate. Fred and George are always losing points,” Ron tried.

“He was unfair! He called Neville an idiot when he isn’t, and tried to embarrass me in front of the entire class! He called Neville an idiot!”

“Can we come with you to visit Hagrid?” Draco asked. Harry relaxed slightly, remembering that Hagrid had invited him to his hut that afternoon. He’d been so worried about Draco and then pissed off at Snape that he had forgotten.

So, when their free period came, the three of them trooped down to Hagrid’s hut. He was more than happy to talk to them about their week, and he was accepting of Draco.

“Jus’ like Sirius Black,” he said. Draco smiled, and Harry remembered the stories of mischief that he had heard from Moony.

Draco took the time to read his father’s letter and write to his mother, asking to stay at Hogwarts, and saying that he had befriended Harry Potter.

“Father thinks that you’re stronger than You-Know-Who was, which is why he wanted me to befriend you. I just want friends,” Draco explained.

Harry quickly noticed the newspaper cutting that was hidden under the tea cosy. He pulled it towards him to read it.

Gringotts Break-in Latest.

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark witches or wizards unknown.

Gringotts’ goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had, in fact, been emptied that same day.

“But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Harry thought about how Mary had decided to not go to the vaults. She said that she hated the carts, which was fair enough.

But that meant that Harry had to go to the vault Hagrid had wanted to go to. He had seen a grubby little package that seemed to be far too mundane to be protected by a lock that would pull people trying to take it into the vault.

So it was more valuable than he had originally thought.

And someone had tried to steal it.