Chapter 2
Harry's classes progressed much slower than he could hope. Except he knew how to perform all the simple first-year spells and thus his teachers were torn between thinking he was a prodigy and thinking he was somehow cheating. (He couldn't put it pass him himself either.)
Defense Against the Dark Arts was a little different, though.
The minute Quirrell's back was turned to write on the chalkboard, Harry felt some thru pain in his scar (or well semi-familiar; has been feeling it a few time through the years after all) and he put his hand on his forehead and yelped.
"E-e-everything all r-right, M-Mr. P-P-P-Potter?" Quirrell asked.
"Your turban makes my scar hurt," Harry said bluntly.
"W-what?" Quirrell asked, looked panicked.
The rest of the class just laughed, clearly not believing him. But, he supposed that was better than them deciding he was crazy. In fact, maybe if he set it up like this now, there wouldn't be that Rita Skeeter fiasco when she found out about his dreams.
"You heard me," Harry told him. "So I would appreciate it if you could not have your turban completely facing me as I think that would be more conducive to my learning environment."
Harrys eyes narrowed at the teacher and decided he didn't like Quirrell anymore.
Finally came the day he was most looking forward to: First-year Potions!
He regretted thinking that as soon as he entered the class.
"Ah, yes," were Snape's first words to them. "Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity."
"It's Hadrian" he swore he saw his eye twitch. "What Potter"
He put on a deadpant expression "It Hadrian sir Hadrian Potter and is that your way for asking for a autograph" he took his glare as a no. Neville next to him shrunk under his glare.
"Potter!" Snape's voice was loud. Too loud. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood."
"Draught of Living Death," Harry replied matter-of-factly.
"Which is?" Snape trying to get him to add more.
"Professor, I'm not entirely sure why you're asking me questions to which you don't know the answer but I'm pleased to inform you that I, am a first year, how could I know that it is a very powerful sleeping potion that makes it appear that you're dead."
"Well, I suppose everyone gets lucky once, something that you'd know plenty about, Potter…" Snape muttered distractedly.
Harry stared. "Um, Mister? Did you just compare me getting a potions answer to correct to Voldemort attempting to brutally murder me after brutally murdering my Mum and Dad?"
Snape started, realizing he'd spoken aloud. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
"In the potions cupboard?" Harry suggested.
Snape's eyes flashed with anger. "Potter!"
"What? You can't actually expect me to go out, find a goat, and extract a bezoar from its stomach…can you?" At this, Harry looked a bit scared; he had no doubt that Snape could very well expect that of Harry. Especially if he continued to provoke him like this.
"What's the difference between monkshood and Wolfsbane?" Snape fired off another question.
"It's not very nice to try and trick me, sir," Harry said. "And I know full well that they're the same plant. Although why they go by two different names, well, three if you count aconite, is beyond me."
"I suppose you qualify as competent, Potter," Snape said grudgingly, completely ignoring the fact that first years should not be expected to memorize their textbooks on the first day.
Apart from that the lesson went great Hadrian and Neville worked toghever great and they were no attempts on peoples lifes. (Well apart from malfoy but draco dosent count)
Hadrian sighed as he slipped into the middle of the twins. "School sucks why do we have to attend... Oh right the fucking law!" He groans slamming his head on the tabel gaining more attention. Suddenly a black cat apparense on his head. "oooo whos that hadrian?" Fred said, petting the cat. He lifts the cat of his head "meet satan" His eyes open and they are deep red with black lines. "Seems like it," George said shrinking down. At the gaze of the cat.
Hadrian placed him down and pinched one of the cats cheeks. "He makes a perfect bodyguard. He's a mix of a grim and some kind of cat they think but meh." "Dame." Fred muttered Neville took the moment to slide down next to fred "Hey Hadrian, Fred George..." He glares at the cat "Satan..." Hadrian grinned at him "Satan and Neville are not on good terms at the moment" The twins nod.
Hadrian the pulled out some cards "Gold fish anybody?~"
The flying lesson went well. Neville almost messed up multipul times but didnt hurt himself to badly!
Harry looked over in time to see Neville's broom take off. He was rising pretty quickly and Harry tensed, waiting for him to fall. When he did, Harry quickly and silently cast a cushioning charm. There was a loud thump as Neville hit the ground, but overall he seemed to be okay. Of course, try telling that to Madame Hooch, who insisted on taking him to the Hospital Wing anyway.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing! You leave these brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come along, dear," she said and guided him back into the building.
"Oh please," Harry said, wondering how he could have possibly believed that last time. "The worst we'll get is a detention."
Malfoy burst into laughter when he was sure that Madame Hooch was out of earshot. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati snapped.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" asked Pansy. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati."
"To be fair, it's not like he was crying," Harry pointed out. "I don't think he was even hurt."
"How could he not be hurt? He fell thirty feet," Lavender reminded him.
"True," Harry nodded. "But it's not like he hasn't fallen from great heights before without getting injured."
"Look!" Malfoy exclaimed, spotting Neville's Remembrall and rushing forward to pick it up. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
"I swear," Harry said, somewhat annoyed. "What is it with you and that thing? I'm sure if you really want one that badly, your father can buy you one."
Malfoy flushed. "I do not want one!"
"Coulda fooled me…" Harry muttered. "Because it seems like you keep stealing Neville's because you're jealous that you don't have an awesome magical mood ring."
Draco looked confused at the end of Harry's statement, but quickly rallied. "Nonsense, I just think that it's an affront to proper wizards when someone from such an old family has to rely on those."
"Um, pardon me," Hermione spoke up. "But what do you mean by 'old family.' Aren't all families equally old?"
"Well, yes," Draco admitted reluctantly. "But I meant old Pureblood wizard family."
"Just checking."
"So you hope to cure Neville of his reliance on this (which, given he got it this morning, isn't exactly an issue) by doing what, exactly?" Harry asked.
"Destroying it," Draco replied promptly.
"The sad thing is, you probably are trying to help him in a rather twisted way," Harry remarked. "I probably can't force you not to destroy it, but we could bet on who gets it."
"What kind of bet?" Malfoy asked, intrigued.
"Seeker competition," Harry explained. "We could give the Remembrall to someone and then have them throw it and whichever one of us catches it wins and gets to do what they like with it."
"And if no one catches it?" Malfoy asked.
Harry shrugged. "Then it'll shatter, won't it?"
"You're on," Draco agreed and he dropped it.
Harry and Draco, both on rather pathetic brooms, raced neck and neck to be the first to catch it. Draco didn't really want to catch the Remembrall, per se, as much as prevent Harry from catching it and his pride wouldn't let him do anything less than his best. Finally, half a foot from the ground.
"Nice flying," Harry complimented, knowing that losing in front of all of their classmates was likely to put Malfoy in a bad mood and make him say or do something stupid.
"Thanks," Malfoy said grudgingly. "You too."
"HARRY POTTER AND DRACO MALFOY!" Professor McGonagall screeched.
Malfoy looked a little green as the Transfiguration Professor continued to yell at them.
"-how dare you-might have broken your neck-"
"Well, unless it killed me instantly, I'm sure that Madame Pomfrey could fix it right up," Harry said like it was a day to day thing. "Although it's nice to know that you care."