Notes:
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made.
Beta: noirekitsune
Chapter 4 – Getting a Pet
The first week of classes was interesting although not that difficult. Harry was expecting a bit more, but he supposed that each subject would become more challenging in the following months, at least he hoped so.
Just like the prefect Rosier had told them, they helped the first years to find their way the first few days, something for which Harry was thankful, Hogwarts was enormous and he was sure that he would have lost himself at least once trying to find the right classrooms. However he did want to explore the castle, it was huge and he was sure that it had to have hundreds of secrets, he could hardly wait to uncover them.
Classes were something he found just as frustrating as interesting, and he could only hope that it would change. Still it was something he was used to, in muggle school he always found classes to be boring and he always had to find something new to study to keep himself entertained.
His first class was Charms with professor Flitwick and though it had the potential to be an interesting class, they had done nothing more than theory, theory that he already knew, and it looked like it wouldn't be changing in the near future. What Harry wanted to do was practical classes, he wanted to do the charms, he wanted to cast magic but knowing it would take a while for it to happen he decided he would do it on his own in his room, at least like that he would learn something.
Transfiguration was far more interesting for him, he had to admit that he quite liked it. They had a bit of theory at the start of class, but after that professor McGonagall gave them a match and told them to turn it into a needle. Harry pointed his wand at the match, said the spell and nothing whatsoever happened. He frowned, he had done exactly what the book said, why hadn't it worked?
Theoretically a needle was supposed to be on his desk in front of him, but no, on his desk, practically laughing at him, was still a match. Aside from that, he hadn't felt anything. Every time he had used magic he had felt something, just under his skin, and all around him, it wasn't always the same feeling, but he did always feel something, but now there was nothing. What was the difference? He was still looking at his match when his eyes went wide. It took him a little bit but he knew what was different. It was so obvious that he had to ask himself why he hadn't noticed it before. Every time he had done magic he had focused on what he wanted, had focused on his will, and when he tried to change the match into a needle he had only said the spell without even thinking about his will. Was that the reason why it didn't work? Well there was only one way to find out. Trying again, Harry not only said the spell he also focused on his will, on how he wanted the match to change into a needle. To his delight the match changed completely and on his desk was a needle.
"Well done Mr. Potter." a voice said from behind him, making Harry turned to see professor McGonagall looking at him, "Now try turning that needle back into a match."
As it didn't seem like the professor was going away Harry turned back to his needle and said the spell again, not forgetting to focus on his will, and the needle became a match again.
"Wonderful Potter," professor McGonagall said with a small smile on her face, "I never had a student that was able to do both of the transfigurations on the first class, 20 points to Slytherin. Continue to transfigure the match until the end of class, try changing the needle, try adding a pattern to the metal or something similar. The spell is the same, it's just a matter of visualization."
Having said that, professor McGonagall continued walking around the classroom helping the students that needed it.
Visualization? Harry took a while pondering what the professor meant. When he thought that he had understood what she was implying he admitted that it made a lot of sense. The spell he had used to change the match into a needle and the needle into a match was the same, so logically if he wanted a different needle he had to imagine that the needle was different. When he was transfiguring the match into a needle he hadn't thought about the needle because they were both already quite different, but because he hadn't visualized the needle it turned into a basic needle, he supposed that if he had no idea how a needle looked that it wouldn't have worked. But seeing as he knew what a needle was his subconscious must have provided the needed image to complete the spell.
Satisfied with his reasoning he focused on his match again and cast the spell. However this time he focused not only on his will but also on visualizing the needle, he imagined that the needle had a floral pattern. He was quite happy when the match changed into a needle with a pattern on the metal. However when he inspected the pattern he noticed that in some places it was more blurred and not as defined. He supposed that he needed to have a clearer image of the whole needle for it to work as it should. Having a better understanding of what he had to do he proceeded to change the needle back into a match and try again and again and again, until he achieved a result that he was satisfied with.
When at the end of the class professor McGonagall asked them to turn in their match/needle only one other student had been able to change their match into a needle but not back again, it was the girl that had stormed into his compartment on the train. Harry on the other hand handed in a needle that looked like a snake, it had beautiful detailed scales, and had it's tongue out, which was the eye of the needle, and it's tail was the point. On the snake's head were his initials in a beautiful script. All in all it was an amazing work. Professor McGonagall spent almost a full minute looking at it until she reacted.
"Ten more points to Slytherin, I have never seen a student do something like this with a needle much less on their first class. Very well done Potter."
And she moved on to the next desk to collect their match, leaving the students staring at Harry. He didn't pay them any mind, he was used to most of the looks he was receiving, after all the students in his old school were also jealous of him. It was only natural that it would be the same in Hogwarts, he was after all better than them and they were starting to realize it.
While he was happy about the fact that even in this new world he was above average, not that he would accept anything else, it would hinder his plan. He was sure that one or more students would choose to confront him sooner or later about it. He would have to deal with it when the time came, after all it didn't really matter what they did, as long as by the end of it they knew their place.
History of magic was a great interest of his. Even if history was biased towards the winner it would still have some facts that couldn't be altered and he was eager to learn more about this world that he had suddenly entered. And maybe they would learn about some obscure magic that was used centuries ago. Maybe magic was like technology and was always evolving. Sure he had noticed that the wizarding world favored more ancient tools, like quills and parchment, however that didn't mean that spells and enchantments didn't change and evolve throughout the centuries, it was completely impossible for a society to not evolve at all, it would stagnate and die. It was all those little things that he could hardly wait to find out.
History class however would prove to be a disappointment. When Harry first found out that the professor was a ghost he was quite excited, the man would know with first-hand experience how things had changed over the years. However the ghost only talked about goblin wars, he didn't even verify which class he was teaching, he simply floated through the blackboard and started talking about some goblin war, never even telling them which war it was or when it started. Harry managed to spend twenty minutes listening to the ghost, after that he wasn't able to anymore and took a book out of his bag. He figured he would learn more if he simply read the history section in the library so he might as well make something productive of his time.
Herbology was interesting, however it would never became one of his favorite subjects. He could see how advantageous it would be to know the subject, and nothing would stop him from doing his best and achieving quite high grades, but it wasn't a subject to which he would dedicate more attention than what he had to and he certainly wouldn't go out of his way to find interesting books on the subject.
He found Astronomy to be a waste of his time, it was pathetically easy. He may not like them, but he knew for a fact that muggles had developed far more in that department then wizards in terms of knowledge.
Potions on the other hand he quite liked, even if he couldn't stand the man that was supposed to teach them. By the end of the class he was thanking Merlin that he had read all those potion books. Professor Snape may have been their Head of House but Harry had no problem in saying that the man was not a professor. Putting a potion recipe on the blackboard and telling them to begin was not teaching. But no matter how inept the man was, that was not the reason he couldn't stand him, dealing with incompetents was part of life and he had gotten used to it years ago, not that he liked it, but there wasn't much he could do. Now the way the man looked at him, that was slowly but surely getting on his nerves. Most of the time professor Snape seemed happy in letting him be, but other times when he thought that Harry wasn't looking he would look at him with a sneer and open his mouth as if he was about to tell him something, that would be without a doubt malicious or humiliating, but then he would close his mouth and look at Harry with disdain before he turned to look in another direction. You didn't have to be a genius to realize that the man hated Harry.
Harry just didn't know why that was. Sure the man had been to the orphanage with Dumbledore, and he had slipped in front of both of them, however he didn't see why the man would treat him that way just because of one meeting. Even if Mrs. Brown had told them anything, there was no evidence whatsoever, besides he had behaved at Hogwarts. He hadn't injured, tortured or killed anyone, hell he wasn't even planning on doing it in the near future. He was behaving like a little angel practically, only observing nothing more, so there truly was no reason for the looks. Even so, the truth was that the looks were starting to annoy him. Not that he would do anything of course, he wasn't an idiot and he knew that he could do nothing to the man, at least not yet. However that did not stop him from daydreaming about what he could to do him once he had finished school, or maybe as a birthday gift to himself when he turned seventeen. Oh, the possibilities were endless.
So at the end of class Harry had a small smile on his face when he handed in a perfectly brewed potion. He could hardly wait for his next class, it appeared that he could get quite imaginative when he was fantasizing about hurting the esteemed professor. Who knew when those ideas could be useful.
Snape didn't know why but he was sure that that smile meant nothing good, and he had to repress a shiver that wanted to go down his spine.
Yet the class Harry thought had been the most interesting was Defense against the Dark Arts. Harry was one of the first to arrive and took a seat in the front of the class. This was the first class that Harry had a lot of questions for. It frustrated him to no end that he couldn't find the answers nor any indication of where he could possibly find them. With that in mind he opted to ask the professor, he hoped that the man could at least clear up some of them or point him in the right direction.
So when the professor had finished taking attendance Harry put his hand up and said, "Professor I have a question."
Professor Quirrell seemed surprised that Harry would talk to him and more than one student was looking at him with curiosity, they were only starting after all, what questions could he possibly have.
"Y-y-yes P-p-potter?"
"Why is this class called 'Defense against the Dark Arts'?"
Harry heard the Gryffindors laugh and even some of the Slytherins were looking at him as if he was an idiot. Quirrell on the other hand stop trembling and looked him straight in the eyes.
"Excuse me?"
Harry didn't know what it was but something about the professor's voice was different, and he didn't mean the lack of stuttering. His voice seemed deeper, smoother, and darker. This voice didn't seem to belong to the professor, it was like the man was wearing a costume and put on the wrong mask, it just didn't match.
"I asked," Harry answered putting aside the matter of the man's voice for later consideration, "Why this subject is called 'Defense against the Dark Arts'. I read our book from cover to cover, and the book only teaches us some spells, a few hexes and jinxes, and a lot of theory. The spells also have the counter spells in the book, I suppose that's the defense part, however if that part is the defense, unless the spells are Dark Arts spells, I don't see how we are defending ourselves against the Dark Arts. And if they are Dark Arts spells why are they being taught if they are supposedly illegal? And while we're at it, what are the Dark Arts and who decides what's classified as Dark Arts? Going back to the original question if we're learning to defend ourselves against magic that isn't Dark why is the class called 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'? Doesn't that give a false sense of security, not to mention how biased it is, telling students that they only need to defend themselves against the Dark Arts, isn't it giving the idea that all other types of magic are safe, that only Dark Arts are bad?"
When Harry finished talking none of the students were laughing at him and Quirrell was looking at him with curiosity. Harry waited calmly for the professor to answer, he was perfectly aware that the students were looking at him strangely, especially the Gryffindors, but he never cared about what others thought of him, what mattered to him now was how to get all the knowledge he wanted, after all knowledge was power and Harry would never deny that power was something that interested him immensely.
Professor Quirrell seemed to come out of his stupor and answered, "The Ministry are the ones who classify what is Dark magic and isn't. I don't know the reason why the subject is called 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'. The definition of Dark Arts is rather complex, however most people classify 'Dark Arts' as curses and hexes that hurt or kill people."
Harry waited for the professor to continue, but when it became apparent that he was not going to he stared incredulously at the man.
"The Dark Arts are pure evil!" a red-headed Gryffindor exclaimed and Harry almost went into shock when he saw several students nodding, agreeing with the idiot.
"You have got to be kidding." Harry muttered to himself but everyone heard him and the professor focused on Harry again, having previously been looking at the red-headed idiot.
"Why do you say that Mr. Potter?" and Harry noticed that there was something in his eyes that wasn't there before.
"That is one of the most irrational things I have ever heard. I always knew that I was far more intelligent than the average person, however the stupidity that some people in the Wizarding World are showing is astounding. When I heard about the Dark Arts I thought that it was related with our magic, with the magic in our core and how we manipulate it but if it truly is the Ministry that decides what Dark Magic is then it's the most stupid thing I have ever heard."
"Why do you think that?" Quirrell asked not taking his eyes from Harry's.
"The Ministry is made out of people, and people are fundamentally afraid of what they do not understand, of what they are not able to do, of what they cannot control. With that in mind what guarantee do we have that the choices they made are for the right reasons? What if someone wasn't able to do a spell, and he or she was afraid of said spell, and couldn't defend themselves against said spell, they could simply classify it as Dark Arts and be done with it. And that's not all, what if war breaks out, what then? Are we expected to cast a cheering charm or a stunning spell and hope they don't recover or that someone on their side doesn't reverse the spell? It's human stupidity at it's best."
Quirrell continued to stare at him for a few moments, then he looked around and appeared to remember where he was and focused on the class again. The rest of the class passed by quite quickly, though the professor stuttered so much that it became difficult to understand him. Harry however wasn't paying attention. The answers he had obtained concerning the Dark Arts were nowhere near as satisfying as he wanted, he would find a way to gain the knowledge he wanted and he didn't really care how he did it. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't even noticed that professor Quirrell's eyes barely left him throughout the class.
The day after the Defense class Harry noticed immediately that something had changed in the way the students looked at him. At first they pointed at him, whispered behind their hands and passed him several times in the corridor, trying to have a better look at his scar, but as he was a Slytherin they did it when they thought he wasn't looking. But now, now a new emotion was in the eyes of the students looking at him. It was an emotion he knew well, he never tired of evoking it in the muggles that lived at the orphanage. Fear, it was such a wonderful emotion.
As far as Harry knew the conversation he had in his Defense class had spread and the general opinion was that he was the next Dark Lord. He couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face every time that he heard someone whispering about it. Honestly he had absolutely no idea how an eleven year old boy could be a Dark Lord, but at least it provided him with entertainment.
The Gryffindors were the worst, especially the red-head from his Defense class, that he learned was named Ronald Weasley. He never missed a chance to call him traitor, dark wizard and Death Eater every time he saw Harry in the corridors. Harry almost didn't notice the red-head, to Harry he was like a fly, it could occasionally bother you but never enough to receive more than a passing glance.
Though if Harry were honest, there was very little that would gain and keep his attention, especially people. They were so boring, so uninteresting, was it really any wonder he ignored most of them? Still some were useful so he tolerated them even if they could hardly hold his attention. He had been hoping that it would change in the Wizarding World, that he would find someone that would truly interest him, someone like him but with enough differences that they could challenge each other. However until he found someone like that he would be quite happy with someone who could be useful and interesting enough to at least entertain him.
It was also the day after the Defense class that Harry found someone just like that. People would say that it was Harry's first friend, though Harry didn't quite see it like that. To him it was like acquiring a pet.
It was lunch time and the great hall was half full, Harry was seated in his usual seat a little away from the rest of the students. He was reading a book he had taken from the library about runes when he felt someone sitting beside him. Even though he didn't show it he was curious, normally nobody would sit beside him. Cursing his curiosity, Harry lowered his book a little and looked to his left. It was a boy from his year, the one that had taken the boat with him that the other two were avoiding. He was a little bit taller than Harry, with dark brown wavy hair and blue eyes, with an aristocratic face, high cheekbones and thin lips and a perfectly straight nose. He was quite handsome Harry noticed, nothing close to how beautiful he was of course, but still handsome.
"Theodore Nott." the boy introduced himself as, when he saw that he had Harry's attention.
Harry lifted an eyebrow showing his confusion, even so he too introduced himself, it was only polite after all, "Harry Potter."
Nott seemed quite happy with it and before Harry could go back to his book he asked, "Do you mind if I sit here?"
"No," Harry told him, and cursing his curiosity again he added, "Although it seems rather curious that you would want to, after all the other Slytherins haven't really welcomed me with open arms."
Nott seemed uncomfortable but Harry didn't care, however when bitterness and rage crossed the boy's face Harry's interest grew a bit.
"My father is in Azkaban for being a Death Eater. The Ministry took more than half of our estate. Obviously the children of exemplary citizens that only served the Dark Lord because they were under a curse, cannot be seen in the company of the son of a known and loyal Death Eater." Nott ended up answering not taking his eyes from Harry.
"I see." Harry muttered, and he really did. Now that he thought about it he remembered seeing Nott sitting away from the others, he had never seen them talk either, he appeared to be quite isolated in the House, and he had no friends in other Houses because he was a Slytherin so that meant he must be pure evil.
Even so it was rather strange that the son of a loyal Death Eater chose to associate with the Boy-Who-Lived. Weren't they supposed to hate him for destroying their lord? Besides he was a half-blood, and he knew that many believed the crap about blood purity. But he could see no hate in Nott's eyes. Then he saw something in his expression that explained why he was there. The boy was lonely.
It was a feeling Harry knew all too well. He used to have that look in his eyes when he was at the orphanage. Before everything changed, before he changed. He remembered how it was before, wanting to belong, wanting to have someone to be proud of him, hell even someone he could talk to. But it didn't matter how much he hoped, it didn't matter what he did, he was always the freak to them. He could still perfectly remember all the times they hurt him, all the times they humiliated him and nobody ever did anything.
He used to pray that someone would come and take him home, that someone would be his father, his mother, that someone would want him. And a few times someone did take him home, and for a little while he believed that everything would be alright, that he could be happy and have a family. But it never lasted. They always brought him back, there was always something wrong with him. A particularly religious couple even told him that he was the Devil's child.
The other boys at the orphanage took advantage of that and told him that he was not worthy of love, of a family. That no matter what he did he would never be good enough and nobody would ever want him. And for a little while he believed them. He stopped praying, he stopped hoping, because, clearly, neither did any good.
But then he turned seven, and everything changed.
So that was why he only nodded his head and went back to his book. Besides Nott could be useful, he was raised in the wizarding world, he could give him information that he otherwise wouldn't have.
Nott appeared satisfied in just sitting and eating his lunch and Harry wasn't complaining, he appreciated the quiet and saw no need in having pointless conversations.
More towards the end of lunch Nott broke the silence.
"What are you reading? It has to be quite interesting, you practically didn't eat lunch."
Harry looked up from his book and focused on Nott, as he only saw genuine curiosity Harry answered.
"I'm reading 'Runes and their basic applications' by Shane Willis. It is rather interesting, though as it is only the basics it's relatively simple things. But I believe that in two or three months I will be able to understand some more advanced runes."
Harry was going to continue talking about the book when he saw that Nott's eyes were wide open.
"Something the matter Nott?" he ended up inquiring, even though he didn't really care.
"Runes?" exclaimed Nott, fortunately they were far away from the other Slytherins so they didn't hear, "You are studying runes? We only start runes in third year! I knew you were good, I mean, seeing you in class leaves no doubt about that, but runes? And you believe that you will be able to understand more advanced runes in a few months? That's incredible."
Harry almost smiled when he saw the look on the boy's face.
"I made a mistake when I bought the school books," admitted Harry, "I only bought the books for our year and a few others. But I already read them all. And our first year books as well as our classes are extremely easy. I had to find something that would entertain me, that's were Runes come in."
Nott didn't say anything for a few moments, then he chuckled and shook his head.
"I don't know why, but that answer doesn't really surprise me."
Both went back to their lunch, Harry was more starting his, seeing as he had his plate almost full. However after a few minutes Nott started sighing and Harry looked at him lifting an eyebrow. Knowing what Harry wanted he explained.
"They haven't stopped staring since I sat here and when they see that I noticed they look away and start whispering with each other. It's rather irritating."
"Hmm, since I am, apparently, the next Dark Lord they must be wondering if you are my first follower." Harry remarked highly amused but maintaining a serious tone, looking back to his book.
Nott didn't say anything for a few seconds then he started laughing, gaining the attention of a few Slytherins that were sitting a little closer to them.
It took a little for him to control himself but he finally said.
"Is that so? Should I address you as 'My Lord' then?"
When Harry looked at him it was impossible to deny the amusement in the eyes of both boys and Theodore Nott was the first to see a true smile on Harry's face.
"No, I don't believe it is necessary. At least at Hogwarts, Potter or Harry will do. However outside of Hogwarts I suppose you may address me as 'Your Grace', it has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
However Nott was laughing again and was not able to give him an answer. Harry smiled and finished his lunch, maybe having Nott around wouldn't be so bad after all.