Meeting
Harry resumed his Occlumency book. He had owl-ordered it on Michael's recommendation, as books on Occlumency were not able to be found in the Hogwarts library. That, Harry would learn in his reading, was because Occlumency was considered a Dark Art, along with Legilimency. Harry found that to be stupid. Hogwarts taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, after all, and Occlumency defended against Legilimency, which genuinely seemed Dark to Harry. But he would have to find another book to discover why Occclumency was labeled a Dark Art. Maybe the wizarding world had public libraries. Harry would prefer that over using his Gringotts key to purchase books, but he could not resist learning about Occlumency. He wanted to be able to defend his mind, while currently he couldn't even defend it from itself. What was he thinking, telling Hermione about his fear of McGonagall? She was smart, she might then notice he was scared of her! Although actually talking to her and seeing her freeze up when they found the Cerberus dislodged some of the resemblance between the two in his thoughts. Aunt Petunia never froze when scared, she fought.
About an hour passed with Harry sitting against the wall, reading half the time and losing himself in thought the other half. He had almost forgotten why he was sitting outside Professor Flitwick's office in the first place when the half-goblin showed up.
"Hello there, Mr. Potter, I hope you weren't waiting long," Flitwick announced, causing Harry to promptly jump to his feet. The professor used the same charm Hermione had used to unlock his office, and Harry warily peeked in before following the professor and finding a seat on a fluffy chair. He could touch the ground as all the chairs were made for people Flitwick's size, a rarity Harry rather liked. Harry could more easily run for it if he needed, he thought. But he wouldn't need to, he reminded himself sharply.
"Mr. Potter, I am sure you are aware midterm comments came out a few days ago?"
"Yessir!" Harry said while nodding redundantly.
"Most students sought me out yesterday to find out their progress," Professor Flitwick started, trying to gently make his confusion over why Harry didn't known.
"I- I wasn't aware we were supposed to, sir. In Muggle school the professors found the students to tell us how well we did."
"You're not in trouble, don't worry! I was merely curious, that's all, as to why you were willing to wait so long. Do you not want to know how you're doing?"
"I have some sense of that already, sir."
"I see. Well, now we can discuss them. You're bordering the line between Troll and Dreadful in Potions-"
"Professor Snape-"
"I am well aware of Professor Snape's biases against you, Mr. Potter. Your classmates have complained, wanting to ensure that you didn't get penalized for his disdain. His comments, however, do have some merit regarding your essays. He wrote that you ramble, and you don’t have paragraphs. I myself have noticed the same thing, as have Professors McGonagall and Sprout.”
”I’m sorry, sir.”
”Now, now, it’s not your fault - you went to Muggle schools, correct?” Harry nodded. “May I ask how you did there?”
Harry breathed deeply, memories of peeing in the darkness of his cupboard when he accidentally let the fact that he had been holding back in class slip out in front of a teacher keeping him from honestly answering. “I was okay, rather ordinary.”
”You, Mr. Potter, are anything but ordinary. Your understanding of theory in my class is exceptional, as well as your grades in Astronomy, where you are on the way to earning an Outstanding. Professor Sinistra says you are remarkably good at navigating through the darkness of the tower, as well as your daytime work. Your grades are Acceptable in most of your other classes.”
Harry stared down at his ratty, stained trainers. Please don’t accuse me of cheating, please let me stay he prayed silently. “My eyesight’s bad, I needed to learn how to navigate. Please, Professor, can I just know what I failed in so I can try to fix it?”
”well, your work in Severu- Professor Snape, excuse me, is the most clearly rushed, but I don’t fault you for that. You do best in the classes with math bases - Theory, Defense, Transfiguration - you obviously study, and overall your practical work is where you are expected to be. Just your written work - especially for Transfiguration and Defense - shows you’re not understanding the concepts, or you are not able to make them translate into words. Would that be correct?”
”Which one, sir?”
”Either. I want to help you, Harry, all of us Professors, we all do but in order to do this I need to know where you are at so I can talk to your other Professors.”
”Er, in Defense I know how to do the spells, only when I wanna write about them the knowledge just blanks. And Professor Quirrell wants us to write about how the spells connect and also the theory behind why the magic is defensive versus offensive and I don’t know how to explain it because I’m not even sure I understand the material but being near Professor Quirrell give- my head hurts when I’m around him too long, I don’t know why, I’m not trying to insult him, sir, I promise! But yeah anyway that’s why I haven’t tried to ask for help. In Transfiguration I understand how all the things work with my magic, but I can’t turn the knowledge into words and also I have trouble focusing during the lectures.”
”yes, Professor McGonagall mentioned that you were frequently absent-minded in her class. Your Herbology Professor said the same thing. Can you please explain why, if you know?”
Harry’s mind went straight into the crevices he didn’t want them to, the ones that prevent him from focusing in class - his aunt and her bewildering hatred for him that occasionally shifted into this odd possessive behavior that Harry felt was wrong but didn’t know why. He did the only thing he could - lied. “No, sir, I don’t know why.”
”That’s okay. Harry, how would you like to attend a tutoring program? Or have a prefect help you with the essays? Both of these are options I think might help.”
”prefect, please.” Harry said, hoping that Penelope Clearwater might help him out. Harry had witnessed her helping out some of the second years, and she seemed very kind, like a born teacher.
”Okay. I will discuss your problems with Ms. Clearwater and we can work out a schedule. Are you okay if I show her the comments?”
“May I read them first, sir?”
”Of course!” Professor Flitwick handed over the parchment. Harry agreed, and was told to meet again in two weeks to discuss how he was doing and meet up with Penelope. Harry exited, and immediately began to make the walk up to his dorm.
He was asleep within the hour, but his dreams were plagued with memories of school and the punishments that came with it.