Chapter 2
Harry loved the dungeons. They were a bit creepy from the outside but the common room was unexpectedly warm, the dark stone walls illuminated by soothing silver and green lights. The older students dispersed and caught up between each other, a few of them heading down to their dorms. Meanwhile, all the first years were invited to sit on plush armchairs set up by the fire. They listened while the fifth-year prefects started on their introductory speech. Harry tried to keep his gaze on them but he was distracted by the movement in the lake’s water. Terence read them the rulebook with a monotonous voice coupled with cheeky comments from Gemma, along with a reminder to “not get caught” if they ever did break the rules listed. The first years exchanged smirks at this.
“Yeah, yeah laugh it up. But if you do get caught and lose us points, the upper years won’t be pleased so don’t think yourself smarter than you are,” added Terence.
Gemma pouted.
“You’re no fun, Terry.”
“Ugh, don’t call me that. Well, I want to go to sleep sometime soon so I’ll get on with it. Where was I? Ah, right. Basically, don’t practice magic without an older student or a professor present to supervise you, don’t go to forbidden areas, don’t stay up by curfew, don’t fight, don’t cheat, don’t get detention for stupid things et cetera. Discrimination is not tolerated so keep your slurs to yourselves, same for bullying. Also, dueling is technically prohibited.”
“He says technically because we are in Slytherin house where honor is deemed important,” chimed in Gemma. “If you think a situation is serious enough to demand a duel, seek out a prefect. If formal fights stop you from hexing each other like animals in the corridors, that’s good enough for us. Fights are dealt with in-house, if possible. Slytherin still has a bad reputation from the last war, don’t go and make it worse. What else?”
“If you have any problems that require an adult to solve, talk to professor Sinistra, she’s our Head of House. You can see her during meals, after Astronomy classes, or during her office hours. For anything else, talk to us.”
“She’ll set up meetings with all of you individually to discuss anything you might need during the school year so think about any questions you want to ask her. Okay, now that that’s settled, I’m going to assign each of you a mentor for the year. They’ll be the student you’ll come see if you have any difficulty with the schoolwork. If you don’t get along, find yourself another mentor, but it’s not our problem.”
“What if we don’t need a mentor?” drawled Malfoy, making Harry roll his eyes.
“Then you can ask to drop yours. But baby Slytherins usually don’t refuse an opportunity to network,” replied Terence with a flat look. “Right,” he continued, looking at his parchment. “Bulstrode, you’re with Gemma. Crabbe with Miles Bletchley. Davis, you’re with Sofia Warrington. Goyle with Percy Weasley. Greengrass with Aspen Selwyn. Malfoy with Damian Rowle?” He snorted. “Well, at least you’ll get along. Nott with Ulrich Fawley. Parkinson, your cousin requested you. I didn’t want to deal with her whining so I gave her the go-ahead. Perks with Elena Hart. Prince, you’re with me. Zabini with Adrian Pucey. Okay, I’ll give you twenty minutes to get acquainted with your mentor, and then you’re going to bed. Your dorm’s this way.”
As he talked, the designated older students walked forward.
“Come on, Prince,” he added gesturing at him to stand up.
Harry followed him to the other side of the common room, where study tables were set up under brighter lighting. The wall was covered in what looked like an assortment of old and new schoolbooks. Harry wondered if there were fiction books too. He’ll have to explore a bit, he thought.
“Sit, kid.” As Harry complied, he continued. “This is the study corner. Each table is enchanted to muffle sound and the bookshelves supposedly always have what you need. Not so sure about that but we do have a pretty nice collection. It doesn’t beat the library for research, but it’s good enough for revision. Since I’m going to be studying for my OWLs this year, I’ll probably be spending a lot of time here when I’m not in class, patrolling for prefect duties, or training for quidditch.” Terence seemed to realize how much he had listed and grimaced.
“Are you sure you want to mentor me? You seem to have a lot on your plate,” commented Harry with hesitation.
The prefect shook his head.
“Mentoring is a mandatory duty for fourth and fifth-year students. I skipped out on it last year so I have to do it now. The only way I could get out of it is if my grades were actually horrendous, and that’s just not the case. Don’t worry, if I have to drop something it’ll be quidditch. I’m only playing this year ‘cause Flint threatened to skin me alive if I didn’t. He hasn’t found a decent replacement seeker yet. Maybe next year you’ll take over for me?” he said with a half-wry half-serious expression. “So you’re stuck with me unless you manage to convince someone to take over. Shouldn’t be too hard, with the whole Boy-Who-Lived nonsense and whatnot.”
The older student chuckled as he saw Harry’s disgusted expression.
“Right. Basically, I’ll be busy but I’ll make as much time for you as possible. Most of the mentors this year are fifth years so we’re all on the same boat. Lucky for you, I have an acute case of insomnia so I can also study at night, it’ll give me some room to breathe during the day and some time for you to come bug me about how to turn a hedgehog into a pincushion or whatever it is firsties do.”
“That doesn’t sound very healthy. Are there no potions for that?"
“You’re muggle-raised, aren’t you,” Terence observed.
Harry flinched. He nodded carefully, looking at the older boy’s reaction.
“Don’t worry, kid, I don’t care about that. My dad’s a squib and my mom’s a muggle so I’m not really high on the pureblood pecking order either. I was only raised around magic ‘cause my dad’s family were among the few magical types who don’t shun their magicless kids. But to answer your question, yes there are potions for that but taking them too frequently causes addiction and I prefer avoiding it. I do take drowsiness draughts the days before exams though. They’re a milder version of the dreamless sleep potions that are more well-known. You’ll learn how to make them in your third year, I think?”
The young wizard relaxed and they quickly changed topics. Terence went on giving him recommendations for his next classes and asked him about what kind of learner he was. Harry had no idea but after some questioning, the prefect concluded that he probably didn’t have any learning difficulty though he was more of a kinesthetic learner.
“Learning by doing is really useful for practical magics like charms, transfiguration, and potions. You’re going to be bored out of your mind in History of Magic though.”
Harry didn’t think it was possible for him to be bored in any kind of classes that had to do with magic but he didn’t question the prefect. They talked more about his experience in school but the young wizard didn’t dare mention the fact that he’d been actively discouraged from getting better grades than his cousins. He’d have to break himself off the habit of underperforming in class if he wanted to make his parents proud, he thought to himself. And it would reflect badly on Terence if he had bad grades. That would be a shame, he didn’t know him much but he already liked the older student. He was a bit snarky and probably needed to sleep for a whole but he was obviously smart and really patient with him. Terence offered his help with any questions he had about wizarding culture. He’d also revealed to have chosen him specifically because he didn’t trust his other year mates not to try and take advantage of him.
“I don’t really need your fame or your money. I’ve already got an apprenticeship set up for me after Hogwarts with a master enchanter and I don’t really care for politics. I won’t deny it was a little selfish: if you do well, it will be beneficial to me.”
“That’s fine. I’d feel bad to take up your time with questions and such if you didn’t get anything from it.”
The prefect smiled slightly. It made him look more awake.
“You’re a good kid, Prince."
“Call me Harry, please? You told me to call you Terence, it’s only fair.”
Terence squinted at him and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “cute kid” and Harry was torn between the urge to scowl and the need to blush at being called that for the first time.
“I think that’s it for tonight. It’s not like you’ve had classes already so I can’t help you much. We’ll check in in a week with your first homework and see how we go from there? Now, I’ll take you to your dorm, baby snake. It’s time to sleep.”
***
The next day was busy but not nearly as eventful. Harry woke up early, cracked jokes with Blaise about Theo’s morning bleariness, and went to breakfast with his new companions. They had Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws and met the stern professor McGonagall, then Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and the cheerful Professor Sprout. Longbottom squeaked and refused to meet his eyes when Harry tried to talk to him after class. The other Hufflepuffs seemed friendly, but Harry had wanted to know more about his godbrother and found himself disappointed. Thankfully, Theo and Blaise distracted him from it. They explored the castle before lunch, then had History of Magic where Harry was forced to admit that Terence was right and he would either have to self-study or find out if exorcisms were a real thing because it was unbearable.
“They definitely are real but if you did that you’d end up haunted by all the ghosts in Great Britain,” said Theo when he mentioned it at lunch. “They’re really proud of him for being the only ghost with a job on the island.”
“Can’t they just hire another one who would be more competent?” asked Blaise with a raised eyebrow. The Italian seemed as baffled with certain things British wizards did as Harry was as a muggle-raised student, which made him wonder how isolated the island was from the rest of Europe. It was kind of concerning.
“They probably could, huh. I wonder why they didn’t. People have been complaining about him for ages.”
“I mean, there probably aren’t that many ghosts with a mastery in History of Magic. And anyway, can you imagine having the Bloody Baron as a teacher?” added Harry, looking at their House ghost.
The three both shuddered.
“It could definitely be worse.”
***
When Harry heard about the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, he’d been scared of what it would mean for the developing friendship between him, Theo, and Ron. But he had clearly been scared for nothing: the next time he properly saw Ron again was right before their first DADA class on their second day of class. He, Theo, and Blaise had arrived early to locate the classroom only to find Ron and Leo Black already there with Hermione standing a few feet away from them with her nose stuck in the air. Theo and Harry exchanged an amused glance at the girl’s obvious snubbing and greeted Ron who introduced his friend. Leo seemed nice, and Harry thought he was the polite kind of bloke Petunia and Vernon would have disapproved of just because he was so obviously more well-mannered than Dudley. With amber eyes, styled copper hair, and a neat uniform, he had a grace about him that had no place on an eleven-year-old -though the mischievous smile he greeted them with made him seem more his age. He was a bit like Blaise in this way, though a bit too put-together to pull off the lazy arrogance of the Italian. Harry wondered if the effortless elegance was just a rich kid thing.
“I’m glad to see we’re not the only ones who decided to come here early,” commented Theo.
“Yeah, we got lost on the way to Transfiguration yesterday and didn’t want a repeat,” explained Ron, pointing at Leo and himself.
“McGonagall just stared at us a little when we came in and she looked so unimpressed, it was like we were two flobberworms crawling into her classroom,” chimed in his friend.
“It’s professor McGonagall,” said Hermione with emphasis on the title.
The two Gryffindor boys rolled their eyes. Harry kind of wanted to ask what flobberworms were but he was pretty sure he could guess from the context. He’d look it up later. The boys chatted between themselves about their impression of the classes they’d had so far and compared their timetables to establish times to explore the castle together. Harry also suggested starting some kind of study group, more for the opportunity to spend time with his new friends than to actually worry about the classes. Ron and Blaise made a face at that but readily agreed. It drew a few chuckles from the others, who’d already established that the two of them would be the ones they’d have to drag to their homework kicking and screaming.
Soon enough, their classmates began arriving at the door and professor Quirrel signaled they could enter. The smell of garlic made Harry feel like gagging. Blaise shook his head with a disgusted expression on his face.
“It smells like my great-uncle Rosario. We keep telling him there are no vampires in Italy -it’s too close to the Vatican- but he won’t hear it.”
“Well at least it will remind you of home,” snickered Ron. “But I get you. My great-aunt Tessie has this…”
Harry lost track of the conversation when he felt the beginnings of another migraine pop up. He groaned internally and stopped himself from touching his forehead, recalling what Theo said about having the nurse -mediwitch?- at the infirmary examine his curse scar. He didn’t want to worry his friends for something that didn’t seem very serious. He’d just quietly do research and find a way to solve the problem himself if needed. He’d gotten good at self-medicating since aunt Petunia refused to let him touch the medicine cabinet. And mrs Figg down the street had a lot of useful plants he could use. Surely his potions inventory would be a good enough substitute.
“Come- come on, cl-class. We’re go-going to, to st-start now.”
Great, a professor who stutters, thought Harry. That would definitely help his migraine.
***
Hogwarts was everything and more than Harry could have ever imagined. He hadn’t heard anything from the Dursleys, he had friends -friends!- who were nice and smart and funny and couldn’t be threatened into staying away from him by his cousin, and he was learning magic. They hadn’t gotten to do magic yet, but when they studied the theory of it in Charms class on tuesday -his favourite so far- professor Flitwick had them feel for the magic within themselves and it had been the most liberating thing Harry had ever experienced. His magic was warm and welcoming, a comforting swirl of green, gold surrounded by a soft peach colour that he couldn’t help but reach for every night, marvelling at the hum of it under his skin. He had been embarrassed when Theo had caught him at it but his friend had simply offered him an understanding smile and diverted the attention of his dormmates.
Harry thought that was one of the greatest things about Theo: he just got it. He knew that Harry thought of magic mostly as a gift from his parents and cherished it even more for it. As someone who had also lost a parent, he didn’t need an explanation for the weird things Harry sometimes did, like stare at old textbooks in the common room and wonder if his father had ever opened one of them or the way he had lit up when professor Flitwick mentioned that he had the same enthusiasm for Charms as his mother. Blaise had no name to attach to his father and Leo was adopted but they didn’t need nor want that lost connexion the way Harry and Theo did, and Ron simply had a too large family to want for anything but space away from them.
Harry didn’t quite dare ask about his parents to the professors. He was still getting used to living at Hogwarts and he wasn’t quite at a point where he felt brave enough to express himself freely in front of adults. The Dursleys’ enjoinment not to ask questions was too fresh in his mind. That changed after his first potions class.
The Potions classroom was surprisingly light for being in the dungeons. It was large and spacious, the walls adorned with red shelves containing weird and colorful potions ingredients, dusty books, and several knick-knacks that the young wizard couldn’t begin to guess the use of. Behind the professor’s desk was a confusing painting representing a stag, a dog, and a wolf running under a full moon. Harry had entered the classroom while chatting with Leo when the Gryffindor stopped and made a weird face as he saw said painting.
“Is it a wizarding reference I don’t understand?” asked Harry.
“No, it’s just. I guess I forgot to mention the potions professor is my dads’ friend? He’s my godfather too. The painting is a stupid inside joke they have, we have it at home too.”
“I’m not just your dads’ friend, Leo, I’m their best friend,” said the professor with a grin, still sitting at his desk. “Give me some credit, won’t you? And do come in, your classmates are waiting for you to sit down.”
“Sure, uncle James.”
“It’s Professor Potter in the classroom, mister Black,” he exclaimed with a cheeky wink.
Harry found himself smiling at their antics and sat down with his friend in the second row. He got his things out while waiting for the others to settle down. Theo and Ron sat behind them, deeply focused on a discussion about chess while Blaise sat at the front with Granger, sending them a betrayed expression at being left out. Harry didn’t take it seriously: they’d had the same problem in other classes but mostly managed to alternate who would be the odd one out. He himself sat with other students in History of Magic, Astronomy, and Charms.
Professor Potter clapped his hands, effectively interrupting the remaining conversations and calling their attention to him.
“Good morning class, I am professor James Potter. You’ll excuse me if I don’t greet you while standing, I am currently quite unable to do so.” At those words, what could only be described as the magical equivalent of a wheelchair slid out from behind the desk and floated closer to them. Utterly unbothered by the shocked gasps of his students, he continued. “You are here to learn the delicate art and science of potion-making. Put down your wands and focus on the cauldron, because that is where the magic happens. During the years we will be working together I will teach many things to those of you who are willing to listen. You’ll learn how to put laughter in bottles, brew cosmetics and cures alike, stop death and make life a little easier at the same time. But that will require you to pay attention: the smallest mistakes can turn any potions into a disaster, and I’d rather have all my students in one piece at the end of the year if it’s all the same to you.”
A Gryffindor girl Harry didn’t remember the name of raised her hand timidly.
“Yes, Miss Brown?”
“Is that what happened to your legs, professor?”
Harry noticed Leo clench his jaw at the question. He probably didn’t appreciate the fact that the man he called “uncle” was questioned about his disability when it was undoubtedly private. However, Professor Potter didn’t seem bothered. He simply shook his head with a rueful smile.
“No, miss Brown. My present state is an after-effect of a curse that has been inflicted upon me during the last war. The pain in my legs varies from day to day, so you will sometimes find me walking just fine with a cane and other times in an enchanted chair. Any other questions? No, then shall we start?” He turned his head and fixed his gaze on Harry. “Mr. Prince, where would I look if I wanted to find a bezoar?”
“In the stomach of a goat, sir,” replied Harry, remembering his bafflement at the information when he had read the textbook.
“Excellent, though for our class looking into the ingredients cabinet on your left will be quite enough,” he added with a grin. “One point to Slytherin. Mr. Finnegan, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”
“Uh, I don’t know, sir. Their names?”
He chuckled.
“One point to Gryffindor for a clever and just answer. They’re the same plant, also known as aconite. It is poisonous to werewolves -and to regular humans too actually- but the right amount of it is quite essential to the creation of the Wolfsbane potion, which helps them keep their mind during the full moon. Miss Parkinson, what is the use of the wiggenweld potion?”
“It’s the antidote of sleeping draughts.”
“That’s right, notably the Draught of Living Death, but it’s also a general cure for a lot of injuries. My dad used to say, if you’re sure you haven’t been spelled, try Wiggenweld. A point to Slytherin.”
Leo snorted.
“That was terrible. His dad was Fleamont Potter, who invented like ten different potions,” he whispered. “Papa said he made puns all the time so I’m not surprised he had ones for common potions.”
“Miss Patil… miss Granger, no need to raise your hand, I will call on you when it’s your time. Now, miss Patil, can you tell me the colour of the antidote for common poisons?”
“I don’t know, sorry."
“That’s too bad, maybe your neighbour can help you out. Miss Brown?"
“It’s teal-coloured."
“Great. Now…”
He interrogated everyone and then started what had to be the best lesson Harry had taken after Charms. It was no wonder his parents had been great at potions, it was so fascinating. He didn’t think he would ever be a prodigy like Severus Prince had been, but he definitely had fun. At the end of the class, Professor Potter held him and Leo back.
“Congratulations on a well-done potion you two. Now I held you back because I wanted to ask Leo how his week had been but I also needed to speak to mister Prince so I thought I’d hit two pixies with the same spell.”
Harry hung back as Leo quietly recounted his week to his uncle, chiming in when they asked his opinion about the classes. The professor looked oddly wistful when Harry let slip his enthusiasm about Charms and the young wizard felt like he could guess why the potions master had asked him to stay behind. Leo’s retelling soon ended and he left the classroom, telling Harry he would be waiting for him at the door with the rest of their friends to go to lunch together. Professor Potter made his godson promise to visit him at his private apartment during the weekend before focusing on Harry. His expression was awkward and he was looking anywhere but at him, moving his enchanted chair to grab a blue box
“I’m sure you’ve already guessed but I was a year mate of your parents and more specifically a housemate to your mother in Gryffindor. We weren’t quite friends while we were at Hogwarts -your mom called me an arrogant toerag once or twice I believe, and your father kind of hated me- but we fought together during the war and became proper friends then. They were great people,” he said with a sad smile. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. “Well, I had a few things of theirs and I thought you’d like to have them. They’re pictures mostly, but there are also a few knick-knacks and some research notebooks I borrowed from your father that should help you in your studies. I don’t have all of them unfortunately but there’s the one he started in first year and-”
The professor trailed off. Harry wiped at his eyes furiously, embarrassed to have been caught crying.
“I- thank you,” he whispered. “I just. My aunt doesn’t really like talking about my mom so I never knew anyone who-”
James Potter’s expression softened.
“You’re welcome, Henry. Feel free to come by anytime if you want me to tell you more about them. You can come by for tea with Leo and your other friends. I’ll send you a note. It’s nice to see Gryffindors and Slytherins get along,” he added wistfully. “In my time we were too hard-headed to get past the rivalry.”
“Um, I will. Thank you, sir.”
When Harry got out of the classroom with red eyes and a small smile, a box of pictures clutched in his hands, none of his friends commented on it. Blaise just bumped shoulders with him and started a dramatic argument with Ron about the superiority of the Italian quidditch team over the British one.
"Why are you even arguing with me about this? You don't even like quidditch!" yelled Ron before presenting another statistic.
Harry laughed quietly and followed along.