Chapter 2
Hours later, Boy slumped in his seat, slowly falling asleep.
When a door shut, he snapped awake. Blinking, Boy looked around, having forgotten where he was.
“Please,” Lucius said coolly. “Come in. We have just finished going over young Mr. Potter’s tests.”
Boy sat up straight, terrified that he failed. “Did I pass?” He asked quietly.
The five people up at the big table laughed.
Boy deflated. They were laughing at him. He failed.
Sir rubbed his forehead. “I’ll take him home, then.”
“Oh, hush James!” The witch on the left said, still chuckling.
“I apologize, Lady Longbottom,” Sir said, seemingly calm. Boy knew that look though. Sir wasn’t calm at all. “Please continue.”
“Lord Potter,” Lucius began. “Have you ever cast a spell both wandlessly and wordlessly?”
Sir cleared his throat. “One or the other, but not simultaneously. May I ask why?”
“Your son has done both,” Lucius said with a smirk. “Simultaneously.”
“What?” Sir demanded. “That’s bullshit. It’s not possible!”
“James!” Lady Longbottom cried out, shocked. “What is the matter with you?”
“I am wondering the same.” Lucius said. “Why exactly did you express concern over your son’s ability to function above the level of a five year old, when he is clearly advanced for his age? I wonder how well your other son performs, if this is what you consider below average. Is the Boy Who Lived able to sit for his OWLs? If that is the case, I would like the name of your sons’ tutors.”
Sir gaped at them. “What do you mean? Of course Jamie isn’t ready to sit his OWLs! He’s not even eleven yet! Are you mad?”
Boy hugged himself, wanting to go back to his floor of Sir’s house. Why did he think leaving was a good idea again?
Lucius paused. “We will be sending a revised supplies list for Mr. Potter some time before his birthday.”
“Revised list? Why?” Sir asked through clenched teeth and a smile.
Lady Longbottom looked at the others in bewilderment.
Boy stared at his shoes, thinking about how misleading they were. They were good quality shoes, but clearly well worn. The funny thing was, before today, Boy had never worn shoes before. He’d never had to. It was a strange feeling, but he couldn’t imagine walking around outside without them. Before today, he’d never walked outside either, so it didn’t make much difference.
He’d actually had to use magic to tie his shoes, because he had no idea how to do it otherwise. Jamie didn’t have any books on tying shoes.
The other people talked with Sir for a while, but Boy stayed silent and perfectly still, in hopes of avoiding Sir’s anger. Even if the people couldn’t see it, Boy could.
“Lils, where’s Jamie?” Sir asked, still feigning calm as he stepped smoothly out of the floo.
“Spending the night at the Burrow, why?” Came the bored reply. “What took so long anyway? I thought you’d be back after a couple of hours. How long could it possibly take to find out that he's a waste of space?”
Boy was trying to figure out how to get upstairs without being seen. He didn’t get very far.
Sir grabbed his collar tightly, pulling him toward the stairs. Sir was able to move a lot more quickly than Boy.
Boy couldn’t breathe, and he was pawing at Sir’s hand, desperate for air. He couldn’t keep up with the furious pace. Every time Boy would lose his footing, Sir would pull up on his collar, bringing him back to his feet to start the process all over again.
That night, Boy had no trouble sleeping, as Sir beat him viciously, all the while swearing that Boy had cheated somehow.
Boy got another letter. It was his updated book list. He was pleased that all of the books for the stupid people classes were removed. He wasn’t stupid after all!
For the first time in his life, Boy almost smiled.
A couple of weeks later, Boy was dragged out of his attic again and was roughly stuffed into the same set of robes as he wore for the testing at the ministry.
Again, they floo’d. This time, they wound up in a seedy looking pub. It was dark, much to Boy’s relief, as the bright green flames hurt his eyes.
Sir had his hand clamped tightly on Boy’s shoulder and it hurt, but Boy knew better than to try to wriggle out of the painful grip.
He was dragged to a book shop, where he was told to wait by the door. Boy wondered why Sir and Ma’am didn’t question his ability to read without ever having been instructed, though he was more pleased than curious. He couldn’t let them find out about his many trips to their library over the years. Maybe they just forgot that he’d never been properly taught.
While Sir collected Boy’s books, Boy was stationed in the corner by the front door. There were so many people coming and going! He was bumped into and apologized to so many times that he was almost dizzy at the level of activity! How was this so easy for them? Weren’t any of them afraid of being trampled by all of the foot traffic? In the fifteen minutes sir was away from him, he’d been bumped into twenty-two times! Thirteen times he was apologized to. How do people live like this?
Finally, they left the book shop. Next was the apothecary. Sir did the shopping there too. This store, at least, was mostly empty. There were only three people inside, not counting Sir and himself. One was an old grizzled looking man with a fake eye and a long unkempt beard that stood behind the counter. The second was a witch a little older than Sir. She was cackling at a display of fermented animal parts. The last person in the shop was sniffing and inspecting various herbs. Apparently, most of them were not the quality he was looking for, judging by the look on his face.
Boy didn’t pay him any mind until Sir decided to stop and talk to him. It was the way that Sir spoke that caught his attention. It was the same tone he used with Boy. He clearly didn’t like the man, whoever he was.
“It must be nice,” Sir sneered at the man. “Being able to laze about for months every year while the rest of us actually work. How was your little holiday, Snivellus?”
“Completely validated, now that I have been fortunate enough to find a Potter willingly educating himself.” The man said, eyeing up Boy’s books. “Is the big bad Auror finally going to learn to read above the level of the average thirteen year old? My, my, wonders never cease.”
Boy was horrified at the way this man was speaking to Sir. He was worried what Sir might do to him. Just because the man wasn't very nice to look at, doesn't mean that he's a bad guy. Sir was very nice looking and he wasn't a good guy.
Pushing aside his fears, Boy watched the way they interacted with fascination. Boy was shocked to realize that he wanted the strange man with the nice voice to win their battle of wills. He just hoped the man didn't get hurt along the way.
While Sir was yelling and causing a scene, the silky voiced man remained calm and continued his shopping, maintaining a bored tone at a respectable volume, insulting Sir with an astonishing wit all the while.
Boy didn't understand. Sir only ever spoke to Boy with that much anger, not other people. Did that mean the man was somehow like Boy? Was he locked away from everyone too?
Sir said the man's name was Snivellus, but that didn't sound like a real name. Who was he to judge? His name was Boy.
By the time Sir finished berating the man at the apothecary, it was already getting close to four. He was shoved into a robe shop. This store was, like the apothecary, blessedly empty.
Boy was directed toward a little platform to be measured, which he did immediately.
"Do you want four extra sets of uniforms for this little one too?" The woman measuring him asked Sir, then turned her attention back to Boy. "You're just darling, aren't you?"
Boy's cheeks flamed, entirely unused to such things
"He won't need the extras, Mrs. Whelan. Jamie just plays harder than he does." Sir made his tone light, but there was an underlying tension that was difficult to pick up for most.
"Alright, young man," she said kindly, straightening her legs with a wince. "All that's left for you to do is pick out what kind of fabric you want your winter cloak made from. I know your brother chose acromantula silk lined with rabbit fur, but what about you?” She then proceeded to show him over a dozen various fabrics and furs for lining. “Or do you want the same?"
"He's sensitive to most furs," Sir lied easily. "Cotton and wool should be fine."
Her brow lifted, but she didn't reply. "Does that sound good to you, little one?" She looked at Boy as she spoke.
Boy liked that she smiled so much. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you." He smiled back, but just a tiny one. He hoped he did it right.
She patted his cheek and sent them on their way, promising to have the robes finished before school began.
Sir pushed- guided- him back to the seedy pub and toward the floo.
"Sir?" Boy asked meekly. "My wand."
"Later," sir said, tightening his grip on Boy's shoulder. "Potter Manor!" He said loudly, pushing him into the flames.
Boy was heartbroken that he hadn’t been allowed to get his wand. That was what he’d been most looking forward to ever since he held Lucius’. That thrum of energy was like nothing he had ever experienced. It was phenomenal and he couldn’t wait to get that feeling back.
He was unbelievably nervous to start school. There would be a lot more people around than there was at Diagon Alley, and what’s more, he wasn’t going to be able to escape the crowds at the end of the day. How was he supposed to deal with that?
Boy remembered a small section in the library that had books on the magical benefits of meditation. Despite the fact that most people used it to better reach their magic, the book did say that it was good for ‘emotional balance’. That had included a bunch of different things from depression to anxiety and was supposed to increase energy. He wasn’t sure, but he was willing to give it a try. If that didn’t work, he might be able to make some calming draughts in Hogwarts.
Hogwarts. He really was going to school. He was going to leave the house for four months. That was a long time. A really long time. It was one third of an entire year.
But… for those four months, Sir wouldn’t be around to hit him. Ma’am wouldn’t be around to make him feel bad. And Jamie would be there too. Would they be in the same house? Would they be allowed to talk to each other? Could they maybe… be friends?
What was Jamie like? Was he cold and mean like Sir? Or was he kind like Lucius or smiley like Mrs. Whelan? Was he funny? Boy didn’t know any jokes. Maybe Jamie would teach him how to make jokes or play games. Boy had read a lot about different games like gobstones, chess and exploding snap, there were even some instructions on muggle card games like poker and go fish.
All too soon, and not soon enough, it was time. It was the morning of September 1st, and Boy's first time going to Hogwarts.
Boy could hear Jamie's excitement all the way up to his attic in the form of rapid, thudding footfalls and lots of chatter, often broken up by giggles.
While Jamie was happy, Boy was miserable. Sir still hadn't taken him to get a wand. What was he supposed to do without a wand? It was a school of Magic!
He wanted to go down there and ask Sir about it, but he was scared of what might happen if he did. Was he meant to wait for someone to bring him down to leave together? Was he supposed to take the initiative and go down to the first floor by himself?
Taking a slow breath, Boy grabbed his trunk and started down the stairs. After the second thud, Boy cringed at the sound and squeezed his eyes closed, focusing on the trunk. Quick as a flash, it began floating behind him.
As Boy made his way down the last flight of stairs, he slowed. By the time he reached the room that all the noise was coming from, he was barely shuffling.
Jamie was running past when he suddenly jerked to a halt. He looked confusedly at Boy before a glint of recognition reached his eyes. “You’re still here? I thought you left years ago.”
Boy shook his head.
Sir and Ma’am told Boy to stay and pulled Jamie out into the hall. It took them twelve minutes to come back.
Boy noticed that Jamie was much taller than he was and wondered if it was Jamie’s robes that he’d had to wear to go to the ministry and out shopping.
Ma’am pushed him toward the floo and he stumbled, but quickly righted himself. That was something he had noticed. It was never her hand that pushed him, but bursts of magic. Ma’am wouldn’t dirty herself by touching him.
It was due to reading that Boy was able to exit the floo with grace. The trick was to step out on a quarter turn to help maintain balance after stopping so abruptly.
He was quickly lost in the crowd, unable to find his way back to the floos to wait for Sir, Ma’am and Jamie. Wanting to get away from all the people, Boy decided to board the train.
Trying to wriggle through the crowd was no easy feat, considering the fact that he seemed to be the only person that was at least attempting to make it through without running into as many people as humanly possible. The moment he stepped foot on the train, he let out a breath of relief. Then he saw how overrun it was. It took a while, but Boy was able to get to the very back of the train and throw himself into an oddly shaped compartment. He shut the door loudly and took a few minutes to collect himself.
When Boy finally settled, he dug around his half-empty trunk for his copy of Numerology and Grammatica Volume Three as well as Spellman’s Advanced Syllabary to reread. For Boy, reading something once and expecting the knowledge to stick was impractical. He read books several times over before he would say that he fully understood. This was the second time reading both. It was okay, he had several hours to finish them before they would arrive at Hogwarts for the first time. He was so excited!
His name wasn’t called. He wasn’t supposed to be here. They changed their minds. Jamie was called after the Patils, but Boy should have been called since they were in alphabetical order. Jamie went to Gryffindor.
A kid called Zabini, Blaise was sorted into Slytherin, and that was it.
Boy was left standing in the middle of the Great Hall by himself. Everyone else was seated already.
“Albus?” The stern looking witch said confusedly. “There are no more names for the first years. Who is this child?”
That started the whispers.
“Ah!” Headmaster Dumbledore said, his eyes lighting up. “This, Professor McGonagall, is a special case. I believe his name was not on the first year list, as he will be joining the OWL students.”
The whispers dissolved into full blown conversation and every eye in the Hall was on Boy.
Boy stared at his shoes.
“Everyone,” the Headmaster said, raising his hands. “Everyone, settle down, please.” His gaze locked on the top of Boy’s bowed head. “If you would, my boy? We need to get you sorted before the Hat falls into his yearly hibernation.”
Ears perking at hearing his name, Boy shuffled to the front of the room, keeping his head down as much as possible. He climbed onto the too-tall stool as he’d seen the others do and waited.
The hat was too big and slipped down over his eyes. He made no move to try to adjust it, finding calm in the dark. It also helped that the entire Hall was in absolute silence.
“Another Potter child?” The Hat asked him, a hint of surprise. “I had no idea.”
That didn’t surprise Boy. Even Jamie didn’t actually know him. He thought back to the day they had met.
“He thought you to be a street child?” The Hat seemed to sigh. “You, my boy, have the heart of a survivor, the mind of a scholar, the cunning of a thief, and the ability to love even those who don’t deserve second chances. This is not an easy choice.”
He wanted to apologize for being difficult, but didn’t dare open his mouth for fear that he would cry. He didn’t belong anywhere. Sir and Ma’am were right after all. There was no place for him. Maybe they would just let him go back to his attic when the Hat threw him out.
“Throw you out?!” The Hat was shocked. “I would never abandon such a special child! Or any child! My boy, Harry, I know exactly where you need to be. It won’t be easy, but in the end, it will be the best for you.”
There was a pause. “SLYTHERIN!”
The Hufflepuffs on Boy’s far left began to clap politely, as did the Slytherins, but the other two houses were still silent.
A couple of the Ravenclaw’s were demanding to know why such a gifted child was being withheld from their House, and the Gryffindor’s never cheered for Slytherins.
Keeping his eyes down, Boy slid from the stool and placed the Hat on it. He shuffled toward the table all the way on the right and went to the furthest corner by the doors.
The students that looked closest to his age politely ignored him, except for one.
“So, you must be the one my father had to test.” The blond said. “I’m Draco Malfoy.”
Malfoy? “Is Lucius your father?” Boy asked with interest. When the blond preened under the recognition, Boy continued. “He was really nice to me, and even let me use his wand.”
The blond gasped, his eyes darkening. “An insignificant nothing like you touched the wand of a Malfoy? How dare you?!”
Boy was startled. He hadn’t asked for the wand! He had known it was disrespectful! Why had Lucius told him it was okay, when it obviously wasn’t? He scratched his upper arms before remembering where he was and put his palms flat on the table. He quickly snatched them back when the table became flooded with food and drinks.
He might not have known what any of this stuff was, but it smelled incredible. Oh, wait. There were a few things he was able to identify. Bread and broth were what he ate most, but there was something wrong with the broth. There was stuff floating in it. Pushing aside the intense urge to try everything, he took a breath. This was normal stuff. There would be plenty of time to try it all. He would be able to develop likes and dislikes, though he could scarcely imagine not liking anything on the table.
Based on looks alone, he could identify a handful of things he’d never seen in person. With that in mind, he decided that he would try one or two new things every single day, but still stick to his staples of bread, broth and potatoes. He had no idea what the strange colored drinks were, so he drank only water.
One of the students near him was ladeling some of the broth into a bowl, making sure to get lots of the floating things and not much broth.
Boy didn’t know what it was, but it was certainly colorful. He waited patiently to see if anyone else was going to get any, and carefully scooped the broth into his own bowl.
It was incredible. It didn’t taste anything like what he’d been given in his attic! He couldn’t figure out what the flavors were, just that there were a lot of them and that he loved every spoonful. Some of the floating things had snuck into his bowl and they were delicious too! He especially liked the orange circular ones.
Doing his best on that test was the smartest thing he’d ever done.
When a tall thin man at the staff table stood, Boy gasped. Every Slytherin student seemed to be waiting for him to stand, and mimicked the action, following out in an orderly fashion.
It was the man from the apothecary! The one that was trading insults with Sir! He was a professor?! Why would Sir be so mean to a professor? Boy had always wanted a professor, and to find out that Sir didn’t respect them was like a blow to the gut. Professors were so important! They deserved a lot of respect, and Sir obviously didn’t care.
It wasn’t right. Boy was going to respect all of his professors, no matter what!
The professor led them down further and further until Boy actually got cold. That didn’t bother Boy. He liked the cold. During the winter, he often made himself a sort of window in his attic to let some of the heat out. The attic was always hot and his ‘window’ was just big enough to cool the small space. He knew it wasn’t really a window, but a hole in the wall that he’d pushed some magic into, but that was okay.
Seeing the portraits talk and move was nothing new to Boy, but they made him wary. The portraits on the third floor had ratted him out a few times, when he snuck down to the second floor. That had earned him several beatings. He didn’t much like them.
“Do you think any of them will be worthy, this year?” A portrait said to Boy’s left.
“Of course not! Why do you always do this?” Another voice asked. “You just set yourself up for disappointment time and time again! Stop trying to suss out speakers! There hasn’t been one in fifty years! Give up already!”
Boy’s eyes widened. Why were the portraits bickering about how worthless the students were, right in front of them?
“Wait,” the first said. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” The second asked, sounding tired.
“That one! With the black fur. It’s listening!”
Why were they standing around, Boy wondered. He wanted to get away from the rude paintings.
“It is not.”
They finally started moving again.
“STOP!” The first shouted.
Boy jerked back, trying to identify the person in the painting. Why did no one else seem to hear it? He peered at the painting, but there was no one in the wooded landscape. He was losing his mind.
“Touch your fangs if you can hear us!”
“I don’t have fangs…?” Boy blurted without thinking.
“A SPEAKER!” The first voice cried. “I TOLD YOU LATHASSA!”
What was talking? There were no people. “I really am going mad.”
Something in the painting shifted. There were two snakes slithering around. One of them, sleek and black, raised itself on its coil and opened its mouth. “Why are you going mad?” That must be Lathassa.
Boy was so confused. “Because snakes don’t talk!”
“Of course we do, hatchling!” The other snake said. This one was pure white and had red eyes.
They were both talking. How? Was it some kind of trick?
“The other hatchlings are staring.” The black snake said, flicking its tail behind Boy.
He turned around and found all of the Slytherins staring at him with a mixture of horror and curiosity.
The professor was the first to snap out of it. “Everyone inside! Now!” He barked, indicating an open portrait hole.
The professor, who Boy now knew was called Professor Snape, and not Snivellus, discussed how the House worked and told them where the dorms were.
That brought up an issue. When Boy began to follow the other new students, he was hurt to realize that there were five beds with trunks, and none of them were his. There wasn’t even room for him.
He went to the common room in time to see his trunk floating down the stairs from the fifth year dorm. The levitation spell either faltered, or was let go, as his trunk smashed onto the stone steps and rolled the rest of the way down, upending itself with each thud.
Since there was no one around, Boy allowed himself to cry as he pulled the trunk closer to the fire so that he would be able to see the damage better. The trunk was second hand and it had already had plenty of scuff marks and dents, but it hadn’t been broken. It was now. Three of the little metal pieces on the corners had come off as well as the lock. Two ink pots were completely destroyed and one was cracked, but not leaking. His robes were covered in ink, and he was thankful that he only had black ink, and it didn’t ruin them. Some of the jars for his potions ingredients were chipped, but nothing came out. That was a good thing. A couple of his books, which were also second hand, had ink splotches on the covers. His cauldron, however, had a long crack down the entire length. None of his other things were too badly damaged, to his immense relief.
Those crystal phials were not cheap.
He was already exhausted, so fixing his belongings would have to wait until tomorrow. Besides, he still had to figure out where he was going to sleep.