HARRY'S POV
It was the next morning. I was sitting with Ron at the Gryffindor table eating breakfast. Last night was amazing. There was a ton of food, the most I've ever seen at once in my whole life. There was everything, roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon, steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and mint humbugs for whatever reason. And even better, I could eat any of it, as much as I wanted.
There were ghosts, too! We met Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor. Well, is name is really Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, but no one calls him that. He showed us where he had almost been beheaded- it was disturbing.
After dinner there was dessert, which was awesome. There was everything, every sort of dessert you could possibly think of. The best.
We met a few other Gryffindors our year, like Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, the boy who lost the toad, and Dean Thomas. They share a dorm with me and Ron. They were cool people.
Something strange had happened last night though. I was surveying the teachers at the High Table. Professor Quirrell was talking to a greasy haired teacher, and when that greasy haired teacher (Snape, Percy had said) looked me in the eye, my scar burned. This hot pain shot through my head. It was gone quickly, but I'm sure it was because Professor Snape looked at me.
Dumbledore had warned everyone that the third-floor corridor was off limits to everyone unless they wished to die a "very painful death". And according to Percy, he might even be serious about that.
And before bed, he made us sing the school which was awful. Everyone was singing a different tune and different key, sometimes off-key, and everyone ended at different times. Fred and George had finished last with a very slow funeral march. And Dumbledore appeared as if he had enjoyed it.
The entrance to the Gryffindor common room was a portrait of a fat woman in a pink dress. Since all the paintings could talk, to get in we just had to tell the Fat Lady the password (Caput Draconis!) and her frame would swing right off the wall like a door, revealing a round hole in the wall, leading to a cosy round room with squashy armchairs. It was a welcoming place, maybe my favourite room so far.
But today, wherever I went, I was followed by whispers.
"There, look."
"Where?"
"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."
"Wearing the glasses?"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
Everywhere I went, people would whisper and stare, point and double take. It was like I was some kind of celebrity to them.
"You kinda are though," Ron had told me.
I also found the staircase rather annoying, as they were often changing. The doors were no better.
I also didn't like Filch, the caretaker, or Mrs. Norris, his cat. Both equally mean, and equally scary to get caught doing wrong by.
In our first Charms lesson, Professor Flitwick the little teacher, squeaked when he got to my nae during attendance during register and fell off his stack of books, toppling out of sight.
Professor McGonagall taught us how to turn matchsticks into needles, but the only one to succeed was Hermione. Ron rolled his eyes when McGonagall had praised her.
We were all excited for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell wasn't really exciting. He told us that he had gotten his turban from an African Prince because he got rid of a troublesome zombie, but when Seamus asked how he did it, he went pink and started talking about the weather. The twins said the turban was full of garlic, to ward off vampires.
And thankfully, I wasn't the only person who didn't know a thing about magic. There were people like Dean who came from Muggle families, and even Ron didn't know that much.
By Friday, Ron and I had made it to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost. We were rather pleased with ourselves, actually.
"What have we got today?" I asked Ron.
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron muttered. "Snape's head of Slytherin house. They say he always favours them- we'll be able to see if that's true."
With the Slytherins? Maybe I can catch up with Draco. I haven't really had a chance to speak to him since the sorting. I felt kind of bad- he looked rather gutted as I took a seat next to Percy at the Gryffindor table. I think he was hoping I would be in Slytherin. I didn't really mind Slytherin, but Ron said Slytherins were bad, and I didn't want to just ditch him. Also, it looked like Draco was already friends with that Crabbe and Goyle, so I thought he would be fine.
But really, I didn't want to turn out like Voldemort.
I hoped Draco and I could catch up some other time, perhaps today. We'll see.
Gee, I hope Draco doesn't turn out like Voldemort.
Hedwig brought me mail today.
It was written by someone with messy handwriting.
Dear Harry,
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like tocome and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hearall about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.
Hagrid
Maybe I could be Ron along, and perhaps Draco. I don't think Draco knows Hagrid at all.
I borrowed Ron's quill and scribbles "Yes, please, see you later" On the back of the paper and sent Hedwig off again.
In the halls on the way to class we bumped into Draco.
"Hey Draco," I said. "How've things been doing?"
"Hi Harry. Things have been going alright. Nothing super interesting. You?"
"No, nothing much with us. Ah, Ron and I made it to the Great Hall this morning without getting lost," I said, because I didn't know what else to.
"Um, that's cool." Ok, so the Slytherin common room must not be too far from the Great Hall. I think they said it was in the dungeons or something.
I noticed Ron had suddenly stopped talking. I think he didn't like Draco. Well, perhaps I could change that.
"Hey Draco, you know Hagrid? Well, he's invited me to have tea with him this afternoon. Do the two of you want to come?"
Ron was definitely coming- he said it was better to get on Hagrid's good side, because it would 'come in handy one day'.
Draco looked like he was considering. "Sure. I think it's a good idea to get on the guy's good side." Umm... why were they both thinking that? Did they have criminal plans for the future? I don't know. But hey, they agreed on something without really knowing it.
Nice.
Potions was horrible. I got the idea that Snape hated me at the start-of-term banquet, but no, he hates me. He loathes me. And I have no idea why. When he was taking register, he paused at my name.
"Ah, yes," he said in a soft but menacing tone, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."
A couple of Slytherins sniggered, but Draco kinda just stared ahead. I could tell he didn't want to be rude to me, but he also didn't want to be ostracized by his fellow Slytherins. Which was fine with me.
He picked on me a lot. For example, he asked me what adding powdered asphodel root to wormwood infusion would give him, and I have no idea what either of those were. Hermione was stretching furiously out of her seat, arm shooting into the sky like she was waiting for a high five from the heavens.
"I don't know, sir." How could he expect me to?
He sneered. "Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" A what?
Hermione, of course, looked as if she were trying to signal a plane. Again, I told him I didn't know.
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Of course I did, I looked through all of them. But there were so many, and how was I supposed to memorize everything from One ThousandMagical Herbs and Fungi?
"What is the difference, Potter," he continued to ignore Hermione. "between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Hermione was now standing up. Why couldn't Snape just ask someone else? Why did he have to pick on me? What have I ever done?
"I don't know," I said, resisting the urge to punch his large crooked nose off." I think Hermione does, though. Why don't you try her?"
Some people laughed; I caught Seamus's eye and he winked. While some people found it funny, Snape clearly did not.
"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione.
He took a point from Gryffindor for my 'cheek'.
I hated this man.
When we were mixing a spell that supposedly cured boils, he criticised everyone except Draco. Well, maybe he was good at potions. Perhaps he could hep me-Ron and I were both rotten.
When Neville spilled his potion and was moaning on the floor in agony, Snape turned to me. "You- Potter- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."
I opened my mouth in shock and anger. Ron kicked me behind the table.
"Don't push it. They say Snape can turn very nasty," he muttered.
I was immensely relieved when Potions was over. Draco had come over to us and asked if I was alright. Ron had gone quiet again.
"Can I meet Hagrid with you?" he asked. So that afternoon the three of us we left the castle and made our way to Hagrid's. I disliked how Ron and Draco didn't speak to each other.
We reached the small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I knocked on the door and heard booming barks from the other side. Then: "Back, Fang, back."
"Hang on," he called out. "Back, Fang." He let us in, struggling to hold the collar of an enormous boarhound.
"Make yerselves at home," he said, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears.
"This is Ron," I said. "Another Weasley, eh?" he said, pouring boiling hot water into a teapot. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the Forest." He put some rock cakes on a plate.
I laughed. "And this is Draco, Draco Malfoy," I said. Hagrid looked up at Draco, and I could see his eyes narrow the slightest bit.
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A/N:
This chapter is very long. Apologies. And it's also not very interesting. I'm not that good at sticking to the point.
And yeah, we're still sticking Harry in Gryffindor.
Feedback please :D