Silver Trinkets

Harry was furious! How could Hagrid have done this to him?

Hagrid told him where to go, and when to be there. What he didn’t tell him, was how to get there! Hagrid was so foolish!

Harry looked at the clock nearby, panic growing as the minute hand ticked closer to 11 o’ clock. There he was standing in King’s Cross Station, with a crowd of people giving him and Hedwig stares as they rushed by. He was stood between platforms 9 and 10, with a ticket for the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 ¾ and no idea how to get there. There had to have been some trick to it, like at Diagon Alley, that Hagrid had forgotten to tell him about.

In the back of his head, Mr. Malfoy’s voice drifted through his mind, snidely implying that he didn’t find Hagrid to be a responsible adult, and that he was offended on Harry’s behalf for not being assigned someone better. He could hear the older man pointing out that Hagrid had been expelled from Hogwarts for harboring a creature that killed another student, and that clearly he didn’t have the best judgment.

That thought segued it's way to thoughts of Dumbledore and his poor decision making skills. Harry was beginning to despise the man. If he were petty enough, he could probably find some way to blame the war and his parents’ death on Dumbledore as well.

Those thoughts flew from his mind when he heard a voice behind him claiming rather conspicuously that Platform 9 ¾ was “this way!”

He turned around to find the source and saw a plump redheaded woman with a line of children with matching hair trailing behind her. They seemed to be dressed as muggles, but having just barely missed the mark of looking normal. None of what they were wearing appeared particularly nice or new either. He spotted an austere looking boy, walking proudly ahead of the others with an owl on his trolley. Behind him was a pair of twins, then a boy about Harry’s age with dirt on his nose and a very apprehensive expression on his face. There was one girl, clinging to her mother’s leg, though she didn’t look much younger than the last boy had. She didn’t have a trunk or trolley with her, so she must not have been boarding the train this time.

Red hair, lots of sons, clearly didn’t come from money… They must have been Weasleys. They were members of the Sacred 28, but they had a history of not having much respect among the other families. Or so Draco and Pansy said.

It hardly mattered to Harry, especially now. Although, he did notice that none of them appeared to be wearing Trinkets. Considering that Narcissa and Aunt Wally were charging for them and the Weasleys likely didn’t have a huge surplus of money, they were probably deemed unnecessary expenses.

He pulled his trolley to the side to step out of their way, and watched closely as one by one, they ran up to the wall between platforms 9 and 10, then continued straight through. Harry sighed in relief, seeing how simple it was. After the mother and daughter pair ran through last, Harry checked around himself to make sure no one was looking, then ran straight at the wall.

Just before the nose of the trolley would have made impact, he was fearful that he wouldn’t go through and would collide with the bricks. But, just like the others, he made it through unimpeded.

When he reached the other side, he slowed to a stop as he stared in wonder. The large red train gave a loud whistle and a puff of steam settled on the platform. It was thick enough to be clearly visible, but not so thick as to block the view of the people scrambling to get on the train before they ran out of time and it took off.

Knowing he needed to hurry, Harry picked a cart at random and stowed his belongings. He didn’t struggle much because although it should have been heavy, the trunk was considerably light. When packing it, he’d gotten the clever idea of putting all of his heavy things into the bags that Narcissa had put the feather-light charm on. It managed to reduce the overall weight by a lot.

He ran to the nearest door and just managed to get in before the whistle blew again and the train began to slowly start forward. He was so relieved that he’d just barely made it, that he didn’t spare a second before he walking through the corridor to check for empty compartments. They appeared to be mostly full, but finally, he spotted one with Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Millicent.

Just as he was about to slide the door open, he spotted Hermione out of the corner of his eye down the corridor. She was standing with Neville Longbottom and was about to follow him into a compartment.

“Hermione!” Harry called. She looked over at him and her eyes lit up with excitement. She said something to trueblood boy, then waved quickly before dashing down the hall toward Harry.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, giving him a quick hug. “I was looking all over for you. I was worried you would have missed the train!”

“I nearly did!” Harry slid the door open and stepped into the compartment, greeting everyone and sitting down beside Draco. Hermione gave Draco a half hug in greeting before sitting down on his other side and saying hi to everyone else.

“Where were you guys?” Blaise asked. “We couldn’t find you anywhere?”

“Yeah,” Pansy added. “We finally had to give up otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to find an empty compartment.”

Harry couldn’t help but notice that Pansy's hair had been cut short. It was no longer waist length, but was now trimmed to a neat bob just barely brushing her shoulders. Harry didn’t think the style suited her, but had enough experience with Aunt Petunia’s haircuts to know better than to point that out.

“I was looking for Harry,” Hermione explained to the rest of the group. “Apparently, he nearly missed the train.”

Millicent scoffed, “How’d you manage to do that?”

“It wasn’t those awful relatives of yours making you late on purpose, was it?” Draco asked, face scrunched in distaste of said relatives.

“No, it was Hagrid’s fault!” Harry huffed. “He gave me my ticket, and told me to go to King’s Cross Station, but he never told me how to get onto the platform. I got here in plenty of time, but I was just stood around lost because I had no idea how to get to the train.”

“Hagrid?” Pansy asked. “Isn’t that Hogwarts’ gamekeeper?”

“Yeah,” Draco scoffed. “Barmy old Dumbledore sent him to bring Harry to Diagon Alley. The big oaf left him all alone there too. Hermione and I had to save him or he’d have been completely lost.”

“He should have told you how to get onto the platform when you were in Diagon Alley,” Hermione insisted. “In fact, your ticket should have come in an envelope with a small card with instructions. How could he have messed that up?”

“He had forgotten to give me my ticket at all,” Harry explained. “He sent it to me the next day with my birthday present he promised me, but had forgotten about too.”

“He hardly sounds responsible,” Hermione frowned. “Dumbledore should have sent you an actual professor, just like Mr. Malfoy said. That’s what he was supposed to do, anyways. That’s what he does for all the muggleborns.”

“Well,” Harry rolled his eyes, “I’m starting to question all this greatness that people keep claiming about him.”

“I told you,” Draco chimed in. “He’s a total nutter.”

Pansy and Millicent nodded in sympathy.

“Oh well,” Blaise spoke up. “You probably won’t have to see Hagrid much anymore. He’s not a professor, so I doubt we’ll see him around all that often. So, you shouldn’t have to worry about him.”

“So,” Pansy started, changing the subject. “Have you guys seen how many people are wearing the Trinkets?”

“I’ve been seeing them everywhere!” Blaise laughed. “And there’s so much red! All these people who thought they were special are being pushed off their pedestals and finding out they’re just like everybody else. Mother finds it hilarious to watch.”

“You have to admit though,” Millicent replied, “It’s not exactly easy for a lot of people to just accept. I mean, there’s so many people who said they didn’t care either way, but as soon as they see red they freak out.”

“Hypocrites, all of them,” Blaise stated.

“Hey!” Pansy argued, “Don’t go forgetting that was all of us too, not that long ago.”

“Not me and Mother,” Blaise defended. “We always knew we were different than other wizards. All these Trinkets do is confirm that we were right.”

“By the way,” Harry pressed, “If you don’t mind my asking, what are you and your mother mixed with to make you creature-bloods?”

Blaise smirked. “We are Lilin, or Children of Lilith,” he replied. Harry had never heard the word before. The look on Blaise’s face suggested he hadn’t expected him to.

“I’m not sure what that means,” Harry frowned.

“Neither do I,” Hermione spoke up. She actually seemed rather alarmed by that fact. As if the notion that something existed that she didn’t know about was completely unheard of. To her, it probably was.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. You’ll probably just have to look it up in the library to understand.” Hermione nodded as if accepting an important mission, but Harry just shrugged.

After that, conversation drifted to more neutral topics, such as another round of guessing on house placements and what the test to be sorted was going to be. Soon, it was time to change into their robes. Then in no time at all, the train was coming to a stop.

After disembarking at Hogsmeade station, Harry spotted Hagrid towering above the crowd with a lantern, beckoning the first years to follow him. At first, Harry tried to linger in the back and go unnoticed, but he should have known that wouldn’t happen.

“Harry Potter!” Hagrid bellowed over the crowd when he spotted him. The overjoyed tone in his voice instantly turned to anger when he caught sight of the people around him, particularly Draco. “Oh now, Harry. You’ll be wantin’ ter separate yerself from that lot. Come on up front wif me.” He reached a hand out for Harry to take, despite having a large group of people between them.

Harry looked around at his group of friends and the mildly offended looks on their faces. “They’ve been perfectly nice to me,” Harry defended. “There’s no reason to be so mean to them.”

At this, Hagrid’s face dropped in disbelief. He stepped forward, wading through the throng of 11-year-olds to get closer to Harry. When he was right beside him, he leaned down toward him as if whispering a secret, but his voice was still loud enough for the surrounding students to hear him just fine. “Harry,” he started. “You’ll soon fin’ out that sum wizar’in’ fam’lies er…” he glanced suspiciously at Draco, “much be’er then others. You don’ wan’ a go makin’ frens wit da wron’ sor’. I can ‘elp you there.” Hagrid stood back up straight and reached his hand out toward Harry again, offering to lead him away.

Harry looked at his enormous hand pensively for a second as he recalled that it was Hagrid’s fault that he’d nearly missed the train. Hagrid that had been so mean to the Malfoys for no reason. Hagrid who was now being mean to his friends for the same nonexistent reason. Hagrid who was kicked out of school for harboring a creature that had accidentally killed a student. Hagrid who took him to the Dursleys. Hagrid who was blindly loyal to Dumbledore (who was essentially the one at fault for all the bad things that happened to him from the moment his parents were killed).

He lifted his eyes up to meet Hagrid’s. “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said, coolly.

Hagrid jerked his hand back as if it had been stung. “Oh,” he said, looking hurt. “Well, then…” he trailed off, turning around and heading back to the front of the group. He cleared his throat loudly. “Is tha’ ery’one, then?” he asked. There was no response, but he didn’t see any stragglers, so he continued on. “Alrigh’. Follow me. Stick to da paff.”

He led the group down a steep, narrow path. Either side was full of trees, so thick you couldn’t see through them. The mood was rather somber the entire walk, with not much noise other than the heavy footsteps, the sound of the wind through the trees, and the occasional sniffing from one of the students.

They came around a bend and the group burst into oohs and ahs as they caught their first looks of Hogwarts over the Black Lake. The castle was perched atop a cliff, looming in the distance with lights sparkling from the windows. Harry could make out its many turrets and towers even in the low light, and it was incredible. He couldn’t help but to gasp in excitement. It took a moment to realize, but he’d actually reached to grip Draco’s sleeve.

He let it go before he thought the other boy noticed, and followed as Hagrid directed the student into boats, warning them no more than 4 to a single one. Harry’s group wound up splitting up, boys in one and girls in the other, with no one coming to fill either empty slot.

The trip across the lake was mesmerizing. It took so long but also not enough time at all. Harry could have continued gazing up at the castle that way forever, but all too soon, the boats drifted through a curtain of ivy and through a long tunnel. The tunnel seemed to go underneath the castle until they reached an underground dock where the boats came to a stop and Hagrid helped the students out.

Harry noticed that when checking the boats as everyone left, Hagrid found a toad. He handed it off to Neville Longbottom, and the boy sighed loudly in relief.

Hagrid led them through a passageway that cut through the surrounding rocks and up a flight of stairs until they were at the doors of the castle. Hagrid knocked 3 times and the giant doors swung open to reveal a stern looking witch with black hair and emerald green robes. Hagrid passed the first years off, and she led them inside to the entrance hall.

She introduced herself as professor McGonagall and gave a brief speech about the sorting ceremony, giving no hints as to what it would be, then warned the students to straighten up before they headed inside. She left them for a moment, telling them to be ready to enter when she returned.

As soon as she left, the crowd started whispering excitedly and Harry grew nervous as he continued to wonder at what the sorting ceremony would be. He heard someone near the front of the steps whispering about a test and his nerves rocketed up even higher.

He’d read through all of his school books, and he even managed to impress Aunt Wally with his pureblood knowledge before he went back to the Dursleys. But what if that hadn’t been enough? What if he should have read those books more closely? What if he couldn’t remember a thing? He would be in front of the whole school. What if he failed?

He heard Pansy gasp loudly from a few steps in front of him, then turned to look at what was the matter. He wasn’t the only one who turned to look, and some of the others began to scream in shock. He whipped his head around to see and spotted a procession of about 20 ghosts.

2 of them seemed to be having a heated discussion, but they stopped midsentence to say hello to the first years. Some of the students were still looking on with horror, although others—Pansy included—looked more annoyed at having been surprised than fearful of the ghosts.

Harry found them to be quite interesting. They seemed to be devoid of color, mostly white like muggles assumed, with only varying shades of gray. They hovered above the ground, but they appeared perfectly human shaped, and even wearing ghostly clothes. They floated by, as opposed to walking, which made sense, considering. He’d fly if he had a choice as well.

For those last few moments, thoughts of ghosts managed to take his nervousness from his mind until Professor McGonagall returned and shooed them away. She ordered the students into a line, then led them into the Great Hall.

Harry gasped aloud when he saw the room. He’d never seen something so spectacular. Not even Malfoy manor could compare to what he saw here. He looked up at the roof and was greeted with the picture perfect image of the night sky. In front of him, he could hear Hermione whispering to Pansy and Millicent that it had been charmed to look that way since the school was created, and that no one else had managed to so excellently replicate the charm.

Professor McGonagall led them between 2 of the 4 long tables and up to the front of the room. She directed them to spread out a bit in the gap of space between the rows of student tables and the raised platform where the teachers sat at a separate table that stretched horizontally across the room.

On the platform, there was a stool, with an oversized, tattered old hat. The witch directed their attention to the hat, and after a moment, it sprung to life and began singing. It described the different houses, and sang a mildly funny song about only needing to wear it, then the hat would decide which one to put them in.

Harry felt the tension he hadn’t noticed in his shoulders drain with relief. He could wear a hat. That was easy enough.

Professor McGonagall opened up a long scroll, and one by one began calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. She raised the hat and dropped it on their heads, after a few seconds, it would shout the name of the house they were sorted into. The table that seated their house would applaud—in addition to the teachers’ polite applause—then the student would join them at the end of the table, where some empty spaces were left.

As the first few students were sorted, Harry spotted Severus—Professor Snape—and couldn’t help but notice that the only time he clapped was when a student was sorted Slytherin. Even then, it was only a very polite clap that looked as if it hardly made any noise. He caught the professor’s eye for a moment, and smiled at him politely. The man blinked at him blankly, lifted an eyebrow at him, then returned his attentions to the next student to be sorted.

Harry supposed that meant the man would continue to ignore his existence. He hadn’t been outright rude to Harry at all, not even during pureblood lessons. Though he did always appear to be a rather curt man. However, he was that way to everyone as far as Harry could tell. He wondered why the man seemed to dislike him so much.

Hermione was called next, and Harry tore his eyes away from the teacher to send her a good luck smile. She smiled back, just before the hat was dropped on her head, masking her view. She tipped it back with her hand, to return her vision and it sat upon her head, pondering. It took a long time considering. It seemed unable to come up with an answer.

Hermione was getting nervous. She caught a finger un the purple plate of her Trinket, fiddling with it in apprehension. Unknowingly, she was drawing everyone’s attention to it as well. After a moment more of thinking, the hat finally shouted “Slytherin” and Hermione’s whole body seemed to droop with relief. Professor McGonagall removed the hat, and Hermione practically leapt off the stool, then skipped to the far side of the hall to sit beside Millicent Bulstrode.

The next to be sorted was Daphne Greengrass, and it took only a few moments for the hat to put her into Slytherin. She didn’t appear upset, but Harry couldn’t help but wonder if she was hiding it. She’d been so set on Ravenclaw before. Perhaps she didn’t really care, and was just glad to be with people she knew.

Neville Longbottom was another person who took a long time to be sorted. Judging by the look on the bottom half of his face, he didn’t seem to like what the hat was saying. The longer he sat there, the more Harry noticed people in the crowd pointing at him and whispering. He overheard the words trinket and bracelet numerous times, and knew they were gossiping about his true-blood status. Finally, the hat shouted “Gryffindor,” and Neville took off to sit with his new house. He ran off so quickly, he still had the hat on his head and had to turn around to give it back, making most of the room laugh at him.

Draco, Nott, then Pansy were all sorted Slytherin as well, then Harry and Blaise were the only ones of their original group left. He hoped he could be with his friends. But they had all seemed so certain that he’d be Gryffindor. He hoped at least if that was where he was sorted, that Draco would keep up with his promise to hang out with him anyways. Who knows, maybe he’d find some friends in Gryffindor too.

The Patil twins were called, and Harry wasn’t the least bit surprised to see them put into different houses. Padma was a Ravenclaw, and Parvati was a Gryffindor.

Finally, Harry’s name was called and the hat was placed upon his head. “Hmm,” the hat whispered in his ear as it seemed to ponder to itself. “Not at all what I expected to see in here,” he commented. “Even as an old hat I’ve heard tales of you.” Of course the Sorting Hat had heard of him. He repressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, it is quite clear, there’s really only one place to put you… Slytherin!” The last word was a shout.

Harry broke out into a grin as the Slytherin table erupted into applause. The hat was lifted off his head and he could feel his adrenaline pumping as he raced down the few steps and over to sit with his friends. Draco and the others looked shocked, but glad to see him, and a few of the older students nearby reached over to pat him on the back in congratulations, or shake his hand.

He chanced a glance up at the High Table and immediately spotted Dumbledore. He was sitting in a gold chair in the center of the table and watching Harry with a curious expression, even as the next student was called.

Harry only looked back at him for a second before averting his eyes to the other side of the room, where Hagrid sat. He was also staring at Harry, but with a horrified expression on his face and a bit of sadness in his eyes. Harry felt a little sympathetic, not having wanted to hurt the man’s feelings. But he’d still been mean to Harry’s friends and downright prejudiced against Draco’s family. None of that was fair! Especially now that the truth was out.

The Malfoys had clearly seen the error in their ways and were trying to do things differently. It hadn’t even taken them long to accept that they’d been in the wrong, which obviously meant that they hadn’t been that passionate about it anyways. The other families wearing the Trinkets were just the same, and all of Harry’s friends and their families were wearing the Trinkets.

The redheaded boy that Harry assumed to be a Weasley was, in fact, a Weasley and was sorted Gryffindor. Harry absently ticked that off in his mind on the list of facts about the redheaded family. Weasley’s were always sorted Gryffindor. The twins he’d seen earlier were making a huge raucous as their brother joined their table. The elder one tried to shush them, while congratulating his brother in a more civil way.

The last person to be called was Blaise and he was sent straight to Slytherin, where he sat with the rest of them.

With the sorting finally done, Dumbledore stood up and took the opportunity to say a few words. They were “Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” With that, dinner began.

“He’s definitely a bit mad,” Harry whispered over to Draco.

“I think it was meant to be funny,” Hermione argued, lightly.

“No, he’s definitely barmy,” Draco agreed with Harry. They all 3 chuckled a bit, then were immediately distracted with the literal feast that appeared before them.

Harry had barely eaten that last week at the Dursley’s so he was more than ready to stuff himself until he was fit to burst. Crabbe and Goyle seemed equally as eager across the table beside Nott, and Harry made a silent bet to himself to see if he could keep up with the stockier boys.

He absolutely failed that bet.

He rested his head against the table as he moaned in pain at the stretch of his stomach, while the other 2 boys were still stuffing their faces with desserts. Hermione patted his back sympathetically. “That’s why you’ve got to pace yourself, Harry.”

“You’d better not get sick in our dorm room tonight!” Draco threatened playfully, tossing a kernel of corn at his head. “There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep with the stench of sick filling up the room.”

Harry’s only response was another groan and a halfhearted swat in the other boy’s directions.

Hermione chuckled at their antics, brushing the piece of corn from Harry’s head.

Harry’s sure that at one point in the night, Dumbledore gave an actual speech, but of it, the only thing he recalled was a long belch that gave his stomach some sweet relief and something about dying on the third floor. By the time a prefect led them to their dorm in the dungeons, Harry was ready to fall into a 15-year long food coma.

His attention peaked for a little while as they entered the common room and he marveled at all the green and silver, and the Victorian style furniture. It looked very traditional, but cozy, and the fire in the hearth kept it at a nice warm temperature. Harry liked it a lot. His favorite part had to be the giant window that looked out into the lake. Not at the lake, but into it. Their dorm was beneath the waterline. Harry wondered if he’d ever catch a glimpse of the Giant Squid.

The boys and girls were separated and led to their dorms. They boys’ dorm had 6 identical four poster beds with black wooden frames, lush green bedding with silver lining, and silk sheets and pillowcases. Harry picked the nearest empty one and collapsed into it while the other boys fought over who got the rest.

He wound up between Draco and Blaise, and across from Crabbe and Goyle. Right as he was starting to doze off, Draco nudged him awake and made him change into his nightclothes and actually get under the covers. His food induced sleepiness was so effective that he fell asleep as soon as he was in his bed properly. He was certain he’d never fallen asleep faster in his life. Even when the Dursleys would deprive him of sleep for punishment.

Or at least he would have been, if he’d been awake long enough to complete the thought.

Harry’s first day of classes was interesting to say the least.

He woke up belching, stomach still full from the night before.

“Can’t beat the masters,” Crabbe teased, patting his stomach smugly after buttoning up his robes. “I’m already ready for round two. What about you, Goyle?”

Goyle stood up from tying his shoes, smiling. “Oh yeah. There’s nothing I’m better at than food.”

“I believe it,” Nott snickered from his side of the room. He slung his bag over his shoulder, then left the dorm.

Crabbe brushed him off. “What about you, Potter. Think you can handle a round two?”

Harry groaned loudly. “No!” he whinged. “I’m never going to eat again…” Crabbe and Goyle burst into laughs, then left the room after Nott.

The door to the bathroom swung open and Blaise stepped out in a huge cloud of steam.

“Ugh!” Draco scoffed loudly, “Blaise! How am I supposed to fix my hair with the mirrors all fogged up?”

“With a brush?” Blaise snarked as he straightened up his robes.

“But I can’t see my reflection!” Draco retorted. “How am I supposed to see what it looks like?”

“Use a steam clearing charm,” Blaise suggested nonchalantly.

Draco glared at him as if he were an idiot. “This is our very first day at Hogwarts! When would I have learned a steam clearing charm?”

“I dunno. Find it in a book.” Blaise grabbed his bag and headed out the door, leaving a scowling Draco alone with Harry. He chuckled darkly as he left.

“You know,” Draco growled. “I don’t think I like him anymore.” Harry chuckled at his grumpiness. “Or you,” Draco snapped, making Harry laugh more.

Harry quickly got dressed and ready for the day while Draco fussed with his hair in the reflection of every metal surface he could find.

“You look perfectly fine,” Harry sighed when he was finally ready.

Draco scowled at Harry’s head. “Have you even seen your own hair? I can’t trust it when you say that!”

“Hey!” Harry scoffed. “I don’t make my hair look like this.” He gestured wildly toward his head. “It just does it on its’ own. I can wash it, brush it, comb it, do whatever I like. I have no control over what happens up here.”

Draco frowned. “That explains a lot.”

Harry huffed at him again. “You look fine. Now let’s go upstairs and get our schedules.”

With a final glance at the doorknob, Draco put his brush down and grabbed his bag, following Harry out of the room. Upstairs, Harry found himself frowning as the rest of the people around him ate their food. After much prodding, Hermione was able to get him to eat a single piece of toast and a glass of water.

Attempting to maneuver the castle proved to be quite the task. The trio had been lucky that they’d followed a few of the upper year students to the Great Hall for breakfast, but they seemed not to have much luck as far as getting to classes. Fortunately for them, Hermione was clever enough to suggest their whole class move as a unit. That way, if one of them had managed to find their way around, they all would.

Thanks to Hermione’s good memory, Blaise’s brilliant sense of direction, and Daphne’s knowing from her eldest brother which ghosts would help and which would try to trick them for laughs, they weren’t late once that first week, and had only managed to get lost twice.

The first time was because as they neared their class, a staircase changed on them, and they couldn’t find their way back. The second time was because Crabbe insisted they listen to The Fat Friar’s advice, despite Daphne warning him that he tended not to be very kind to Slytherins. He’d seemed nice enough at first, and promised them that he would never trick a student. He sounded genuine, but when Nott called him the Fat Friar to his face, his eyebrow twitched ominously, then he led them down a hallway with a door that vanished as soon as they tried to open it.

By the time they were able to get back to a place they knew how to navigate, Nott had been smacked in the back of the head enough times that he knew to never call him “Fat” Friar to his face again.

Despite the lack of consistency and confusing nature of the castle, they all had a pretty good grip on how to get around by the end of the week.

The classes themselves were something else. Harry was glad that he’d spent so much time reading his books and trying to catch up to the kids who grew up in wizarding society. Ultimately, it wasn’t necessary. Most of the wizarding kids were at about the same point as the muggleborns as far as knowledge. Harry found that he’d actually been ahead of them all. It felt nice to be considered ahead of the class after years of having to lag behind on purpose to make sure he didn’t outshine his idiot cousin.

Of course, Draco and Hermione were both far ahead of him, especially Hermione. But, he’d already expected as much considering they were the ones to help him catch up.

He’d been particularly far ahead in History of Magic. It had become one of his favorite subjects during the last month of the summer. During that time, he’d managed to finish the entire textbook, and even reread his favorite parts. That along with his Pureblood Lessons had given him a great head start.

However, sitting in class listening to Professor Binns go on and on in a drawling monotone proved completely impossible. His interest slipped almost immediately, even as he tried to take notes on everything the ghost said. By the end of the class, he decided his best bet was to take enough notes to see what they were studying at the time, then to research it all on his own. Otherwise he wouldn’t learn a thing.

Transfigurations was another class that seemed rather interesting, although very difficult. Professor McGonagall was as strict a teacher as she appeared and Harry made a mental note not to cross her. Though calm and quiet, she was a rather intimidating witch. She was clever enough that even Hermione seemed to admire her, but also witty enough to keep the class engaged. Though she wasn’t very patient, she had a tongue like a whip that made up for it, as long as you weren’t the focus of the lashing.

Their first class involved trying to turn matchsticks into needles and, while no one had managed to accomplish it, she had seemed particularly impressed with the progress the Slytherins had made. Hermione of course, had done the best and even managed to earn a small smile from the woman.

Harry was starting to realize that Hermione clearly didn’t give herself enough credit. He knew that she was smart, but he was starting to think that she might actually be some kind of genius. All he could do was try his best to keep up.

Herbology wound up being a class that he didn’t particularly like. He found the plants and fungi to be interesting enough, and it was easy to keep up with. He just couldn’t find a particular passion for it. Regardless, it was nice to get out of the castle and head to the greenhouses a few days a week.

There was one major annoyance that he had to deal with. Between every class, he continuously heard whispers following him.

“Look, it’s him!”

“That’s Harry Potter!”

 “I can’t believe he’s in Slytherin!”

“It’s the Boy Who Lived!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Look! He’s wearing a Trinket!”

 “The Chosen One!”

“I wonder if he’s turned evil?”

“Did you see his scar?”

At first it really bothered him, but Draco and Hermione could see how annoyed he got and did their best to shoo people away. Eventually, they quieted down a bit, and he got better at ignoring them. The Slytherins quickly got used to seeing him all the time, and the novelty wore off by the 3^rd day. So at least he had somewhere that he could get away from it. The common room and the library had become Harry’s 2 safe havens.

Originally, Draco had thought Harry would like being so popular and having everyone pay attention to and want to talk to him. Draco himself seemed almost envious at first. It didn’t take long for him to flip his switch when he saw how much it actually stressed Harry out, and how all the stares were more aggravating than anything.

Finally, Friday morning came and the Slytherins’ first class was double potions with the Gryffindors. So far, none of the first years seemed to make much fuss about House rivalries, but the upper years seemed to all take it very seriously. The tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin were particularly nasty. By the time Friday rolled around, the temperament of the upper year Gryffindors had trickled down to the first years. They all sent dirty looks to their green clad classmates that had made it to the potions dungeons first.

Harry tried not to think too hard about it. He’d noticed that some of the looks he’d been getting all week from Gryffindors were particularly dirtier than the rest. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said they felt betrayed by him or something. It had been making him so uncomfortable that morning that Harry rushed Hermione and Draco away from the table more quickly than usual. Draco had just gotten his copy of the Daily Prophet and had to cram it in his bag before reading it to even keep up.

When everyone had finally settled into their seats, there was a clear divide in the room. The Slytherins sat up front, attentive and with quills and parchment ready to take notes. In the back, the Gryffindors were more relaxed with the absence of a teacher. They were chatting quietly amongst themselves and preemptively complaining about the class.

With the slam of a door and a dramatic whipping of black robes, Severus billowed into the room, invoking instant silence by presence alone. He went straight to his desk, snapping up a parchment to take roll call. He turned to face the students, piercing them with a dark glare that sent shivers along every spine in the room.

As he called the names, one by one, there was a distinct difference in the way the houses responded to him. The Gryffindors, despite all their talk of being courageous lions, answered in meek, clearly intimidated voices. The meekest of which belonged to Neville Longbottom who received an unimpressed sneer in return. The Slytherins however answered in strong, respectful voices, confidence ringing out from each one.

When Severus—or rather, Professor Snape—came across Harry’s name, he hesitated for the briefest of seconds. In that nanosecond, Harry was certain the professor would continue pretending he didn’t exist and skip over his name entirely. Instead, he was called on the same as the others and Professor Snape moved on to the Dean Thomas with no fanfare.

Hermione elbowed Harry lightly when she noticed the tiny sigh of relief he let out. He glanced at her, and she gave him a tiny supportive smile. She probably thought he’d been worried the professor would make a fuss about him as opposed to the literal opposite, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

After marking Weasley and Blaise present, Professor Snape tossed his attendance sheet aside and left the students hanging off a dramatic pause. After a few seconds of him glaring at them one by one, he started in on a speech about the greatness of potions and its usual lack of enthusiasm from his dunderheaded students.

With no preamble, he immediately started asking the students questions.

“Longbottom!” The boy flinched when the Professor snapped his name. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

“Uh…” Neville clearly had no idea.

“Finnigan!” Snape barked, losing his patience quickly. “Do you know?” The boy shook his head fervently, frowning. “What about you Weasley?” The boy just gulped and Snape rolled his eyes. “Surely one of you has got a drop of intelligence in your tiny little heads. Anyone?”

Every Slytherin student raised their hand.

“5 points from Gryffindor for overall underprepared-ness.” The professor called. “Parkinson. What is the answer I’m looking for?”

“The Draught of Living Death, sir,” she answered with a glance to the Gryffindors and a smug grin.

“Two points to Slytherin. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar? Anyone?” This time, only about half of the Slytherins raised their hands. “Granger?”

“In the stomach of a goat, sir,” she replied eagerly.

“Two more points to Slytherin.” The others who sat with their quills ready, rushed to take note of her reply as he continued with the questions without pausing. “What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” This time, only Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Millicent raised their hands. “Malfoy?”

“Nothing, sir. They are the same plant, that also goes by the name of aconite.”

“Two more points.” He looked around the room, glaring as he noticed some of the students sitting still. “Well, I see some of you are smart enough to be taking notes. What about the rest of you idiots? Do you need an invitation?”

At that, the Gryffindors scrambled to grab quills and parchment to catch up with their classmates. After note taking and a brief reading assignment, Snape set them off to work in pairs to brew a boil curing potion.

The professor stalked up and down between the rows of students, watching carefully as they took each step, and throwing around criticisms as if that’s what the air he breathed was made of. When speaking to the Slytherin children, his criticisms were slightly more constructive. However, when speaking to the Gryffindors, he was far more insulting. Except for Neville, who he seemed to take joy in outright demeaning.

The only people safe from his criticisms were Draco and Harry. Snape clearly preferred his Godson, using him as an example for the class, every time he and Harry got something right. Harry himself was being studiously ignored, as per typical.

The only other ones to get off easy were Hermione and Millicent. He merely warned Millicent that she should have crushed the snake fang bits smaller, and Hermione waited too long to add the porcupine quills. He had actually just begun commenting to the class on how both pairs had managed to perfectly stew their horned slugs, when the dungeon filled with hissing and a toxic green cloud.

In the back of the room, Neville, who’d been partnered with Finnegan, had managed to bungle his potion so badly that it burned through their cauldron and was seeping onto the floor. In moments, the entire class had stood up on their seats to avoid stepping in the acid he’d created.

Neville, the poor sod, had been covered in it from when the cauldron spilled. He began moaning and whimpering in pain as his whole body broke out in boils.

“Idiot boy!” Snape hissed. “Let me guess, you added the porcupine quills without taking the potion off the fire?” His only answer was more whimpering. “Finnegan, take this moron to the hospital wing,” he dismissed them, vanishing the potion with a wave of his wand.