I burst through the doors to Master Wei's dojo. No one was there but the little teacher, whom I immediately hurried up to.
“I'm just like them, master! I'm just like them! I'm horrible and cruel! I've become a monster! I'm a monster! I never imagined I could be like this! All I wanted to do was protect myself but now I've become the very thing I hate and I'm not sure what I should do and I need your help and—”
I was babbling, I knew, but I couldn't stop. The words poured out, and the more I spoke the more words that continued spewing forth like a waterfall.
Master Wei held up a hand. I stopped talking.
“Calm down, young one,” he said, “I cannot understand a word you're saying. Relax. Take several deep breaths, that's it, breath in, now breath out.”
I did as told, breathing in deeply and then breathing out. I still felt like panicking, but Master Wei helped me calm down.
“Now,” Master Wei said, “tell me what happened.”
I nodded, and did exactly as he asked.
I told him about everything.
My hatred.
My fears.
My darkness.
XoX
His lungs burned with each breath he took. His legs felt like they were made of led. His muscles were on fire, and every movement he made felt like someone was trying to tear his body apart. It was the ultimate form of torture.
And Harry loved every minute of it.
It was the day after the Sorting Ceremony. The sun was still hiding behind the horizon, not yet risen high enough to cast anything more than a pale yellow light into the sky. And like most mornings, Harry Potter found himself exercising before anyone else woke up.
The morning air was crisp and cool as Harry pushed his body much harder than he usually did. Each ragged gasp that left his throat produced a light mist in the cold air of Scotland, though he knew most of it was due to his magic reacting to his overheating body. The cool morning air of Scotland combined with the elevated height made his work out this morning much more difficult than some of his other ones.
Even as his lungs heaved another ragged gasp, a smile made its way to his face. There was something to be said about pushing ones body beyond its physical limitations, of trying to break your previous boundaries. Harry always felt his best when his work outs consisted of this kind of regime.
By the time Harry finished his body was caked in sweat and his shoulders heaved as he gulped in as much oxygen as his lungs would allow.
The cool air of the morning hit his naked torso, and his pectoral muscles twitched from the contrast it presented between the cold morning air and his overheating body.
Walking over to the tree whose limb he had used for his pull ups, Harry grabbed both the towel and water bottle he'd set aside. The towel went around his neck after he used it to wipe the sweat off his body, and the water bottle was guzzled down seconds later. He took one moment to look over at the sun as it continued its slow, steady rise over the mountains, before making his way back to Hogwarts.
Traveling along the path he had memorized from last night, Harry made his way to the Gryffindor Tower. He was forced to stop several times as the stairs moved on him, and sometimes he got sick of waiting and simply worked out a new path to follow. Eventually, he made his to the portrait of the Fat Lady, a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. The Fat Lady was asleep, the deep breaths she took and the her shut eyes told him this.
Despite having seen the moving images on the Chocolate Frog he had eaten on the Hogwarts Express, Harry had been quite shocked to see that the portraits lining the walls were all alive. The people within them moved and talked and acted just like real people. It was an amazing piece of magic—like all the magic he had seen performed—and the ever inquisitive part of his mind couldn't help but wonder how this feat was accomplished.
“Caput Draconis,” Harry spoke softly so as not to wake the Fat Lady. The door swung open as the Fat Lady continued to snore, and Harry walked into the Gryffindor Common Room.
The Gryffindor Common Room was a large, circular room where Gryffindor students could relax and study in relative peace. It was full of squashy armchairs, tables, and a bulletin boardwhere school notices, ads, lost posters, etc. could be posted. A window looked out onto the grounds of the school and a large fireplace dominated one wall. The walls were decorated with scarlet tapestries that depicted not only witches and wizards, but also various animals.
Harry recognized many of them, some were magical such as the Griffin, others were not, as was the case with the lion. The room itself wasn't bad looking; it actually was kind of cozy, though Harry was not very fond of the color. He had nothing against red and gold, but those two colors combine were just too bright and loud to have a whole room decked out in them. Still, it was his common room now, and he would be living there for the next seven years. Might as well get used to it.
Without sparing the room a backward glance, Harry headed toward one of the two doors on the opposite side of the common room. Each door led to a spiral stair case which led to a set of dormitories. One for boys, one for girls.
Harry took the one leading to the boy's dormitory.
The boy's dormitory was a circular room, much like the common room, only instead of armchairs and tables it held beds. There were four four-poster beds in total, with deep red, velvet curtains. Once more, the color scheme was gold and red.
Harry noticed that everyone else was still asleep. Dean Thomas, a dark-haired, dark-skinned boy almost as tall as Harry slept like a rock, occasionally mumbling something incoherent under his breath. Harry thought the boy was talking about football, but couldn't be sure. Seamus Finnigan, a boy of Irish descent with pale skin and sandy-colored hair lay on his back, his arms spread out and his mouth hanging wide open. And Neville Longbottom, the round faced boy, was curled up in a ball laying on his side.
Since no one was awake to see him, Harry waved his hand towards the trunk sitting in front of his bed. He smiled when the small charm he had placed upon his trunk spoke the password in a hushed tone. It was a very basic charm, one he had discovered during the summer when he looked up basic household charms. He had set up the speaking charm specifically for this instance, since he suspected—quite correctly—that he would be up long before any of his roommates were.
The trunk unlocked with a soft 'click' and another wave of his hand caused the small, rotating circular lock with the numbers one through four to move until it reached number two.
The trunk opened up as Harry directed more magic at it. One of his three sets of school robes and a large towel flew out to land in his outstretched hands.
After closing and locking the trunk, Harry made his way to the communal showers where he enjoyed a nice long soak under hot sprays of water. He came out nearly half an hour later dressed in his clothes with the towel laying over his still wet hair.
Not long after arriving back in his bedroom, Harry found himself sitting down on the couch in the common room reading Hogwarts, A History. It was a very interesting book, and he was nearly half-way finished with it, having read quite a bit of the book over the summer. Harry hoped to finish it before the end of the week.
As he continued flipping through the pages the sound of the door leading to one of the dormitories opening had his ears perking up.
He turned just in time to see Fred and George Weasley walking into the common room. Unlike everyone else who couldn't tell them apart, Harry knew exactly which was which. The one coming up to him on the left, Fred, had two extra freckles on his nose, and the other one, George, had a very small, almost unnoticeable scar on the left side of his cheek.
“Fred, George,” Harry greeted the two with a small nod. The two twins grinned at him as they hopped over the couch and sat on either side of him.
“Good morning, Harry,” George greeted with a large smile.
“And what a wonderful morning it is,” Fred added.
“Indeed, the day is young.”
“The sun is shining.”
“And the weather is mild.”
“Which begs the question of just why you are reading on this fine morning when you could be doing something more productive?”
“Much more productive.”
Harry, who was keeping his ears on the conversation as it bounced between one twin to another, gave them a raised eyebrow to show his amusement. While he had not paid any particular attention to the pair last night during the sorting, he had seen them and listened to their conversation just like he had with everybody else at his table. That, plus his earlier observations during their meeting on the Hogwarts Express let him know these two were trouble makers. It was very likely they were the 'Marauders' of this era.
“And just what could I be doing so early in the morning? Breakfast isn't until eight.”
“True, very true,” Fred said with nod.
George began rubbing his chin in mock contemplation. “Well, you could always think up new and inventive ways to cause mischief.”
“I must concur with my dear brother,” Fred added helpfully. “Why would you want to... read.” He mock shuddered. “When you could think up more and more ways to spread chaos and joy to the school?”
At those words, Harry's lips quirked up in a small, half-smile. “Aside from the fact that I don't think chaos and joy should ever be used in the same sentence again, perhaps I am just the kind of person who enjoys reading a good book in the morning instead of finding ways to get myself in trouble.”
The twins gasped in mock horror.
“You hear that, Gred? He doesn't enjoy pulling pranks.”
“I heard, Forge. It's shameful how these young-ins are getting more and more boring over the years.”
Harry rolled his eyes, before his attention turned toward the rest of the common room. During the time he and the two Weasley's had been talking, many other Gryffindor students had been making their way down the stairs. Already he spotted many older students as they walked out of the room, most likely going to the Great Hall, and three first years: Fay Dunbar, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom.
“Well, I do apologize for being such a bore,” Harry spoke to Fred and George as he closed his book shut with a snap, shrunk it with a tap of his wand, then stood up. “I'll see what I can do about becoming more exciting in the future. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going.”
“See yah, Harry,” George said with a jaunty wave as he and his brother stood up.
“Don't be a stranger now!” added the other.
Harry shook his head at their antics, but waved all the same, before making his way over to Neville Longbottom.
“Good morning, Neville,” Harry greeted with a smile. The other boy nearly jumped out of his skin when Harry spoke, and quickly whirled around to see the raven-haired youth next to him.
“Oh, Harry,” Neville breathed, looking like he had just received the scare of his life. “Good morning. Did you... did you sleep well?”
“I slept quite well, thank you. And you?” asked Harry cordially.
“Oh... yeah, erm, I slept alright,” Neville mumbled, and Harry almost sighed at the unenthusiastic response. Looking at him, one would never suspect this boy belonged to the house of lions. Everything from his posture to his subdued way of speaking denoted to someone lacking the necessary self-assuredness to do well in the house Godric Gryffindor had created. Neville Longbottom, Harry had determined, was a very skittish and easily frightened boy with a complete lack of self-confidence.
He was also the reason Harry decided to go into Gryffindor. As the heir to the Longbottom name and fortune, Neville would eventually inherent the title Lord of Longbottom and a seat on the Wizengamot. More to the point, his family was one of the Founding Five, which made allying himself with this boy even more imperative. Having Neville on his side after they graduate from Hogwarts would definitely be a boon politically, if nothing else.
Thus the reason Harry had decided to Sort himself into Gryffindor. Right now, Neville was an easily frightened child with no confidence. Certainly, he acted nothing like the heir to one of the Founding Five families should. Harry planned on fixing that by taking Neville under his wing and bolstering the boy's flagging self-esteem. This would ingratiate the Longbottom heir to him, thereby giving him a powerful ally once he reached his Age of Majority.
Sure, it was a little underhanded, using the boy's lack of confidence for his own gains. But Harry justified himself with the fact that he was also helping the Longbottom heir quite a bit. Not only would Neville gain Harry as a powerful ally, he would also help Neville become the kind of man other people could look up to and admire. More to the point, Neville would be able to have confidence in himself, something that Harry felt was imperative for anybody to have.
After all, if you couldn't be confident in yourself, who would be willing to have confidence in you?
XoX
During his 11-years of life, Harry had placed people into three categories. These categories, or archetypes, as it were, were not conducive to everyone, but for the most part, Harry felt that most human beings fell under one of these three categories: Sheep, Shepherds and Wolves.
The sheep were what made up the majority of the populace. They were the people who had no real sense of self beyond their unique personality. These were the people who 'followed the heard' as it were. They did things because everyone else was doing them; they followed those who had a better vision of the future than themselves—or simply had more power—and they typically followed the whims of the crowd. Generally speaking, aside from how the vast majority of people were sheep, they were fairly useless to his overall goals.
Shepherds were a just as obvious branch of people. These were the people who had vision. They were revolutionaries of their times, leaders in every sense of the word. Those who Harry had dubbed shepherds were the kind of people the sheep followed. Harry liked to think himself a shepherd—or at least a shepherd-in-training. Sort of like being a Padawan learner.
Like shepherds, the wolves were a just as obvious euphemism. Wolves were predators, stalking their prey and pouncing when least expected. They were one of the apex predators, an animal well-known for both their cunning and viciousness.
Much like the wolves of the animal kingdom, human wolves acted very similar in execution. They preyed upon the sheep, devouring them in a not-so-literal way until they had what they wanted, which sometimes led to death and sometimes didn't, though occasionally death may be preferable. So far, the only people who Harry would have considered wolves in recent years was Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
Of course, not everyone fell under these three categories. Lisa, for instance, was certainly no sheep, yet not quite a shepherd either. And she was far too nice to be a wolf. She was one of those people he could not place into a specific category, though that may have to do with her meaning too much for him to place into a stereotype. Perhaps the most accurate way to describe her would be a partner, someone he thought of as an equal, someone who could be a Shepard, but had no desire to take on the roll.
Hopefully, Neville would eventually become like Lisa in time. If he wanted to succeed in any plans he might make, he needed more than just sheep who blindly followed orders.
“Do you see him?”
“The one next to the pudgy kid?”
“It's Harry Potter!”
“The boy-who-lived!”
“I can't believe he's actually going to Hogwarts!”
“Oh, he's so adorable!”
Harry Potter listened to the students he passed in the hall and watched them gawk at him like he was some kind of circus animal. He made sure to memorize each and everyone person who did and put them under the 'sheep' category, which just so happened to include pretty much everyone he passed that morning.
Really, Harry noted with some ironic form of amusement, the people in the wizarding world acted exactly like those in the muggle world. He wondered what those blood purists would think if they knew that?
They'd probably throw a fit.
“Something on your mind, Neville?” Harry asked quite suddenly. The much shorter boy walking next to him looked up from where he'd previously been staring at the ground, his face scrunched up in thought.
“It's... it's nothing,” Neville mumbled, ducking his head back down to stare at the large, granite tiles on the floor.
“Neville,” Harry admonished with a slightly chiding voice. “If you have a question, please don't hesitate to ask. Asking questions is a fundamental key to gaining knowledge. If you don't ask questions, you'll never learn anything worth while.”
Neville looked back up at Harry in surprise. Harry just smiled in return.
“So what did you want to ask me?”
“It's just...” Neville's eyes darted around the hall, and Harry realized the boy was looking at the dozens upon dozens of people they passed, all of whom stared at Harry like he was the second coming of Merlin. “How do you do it?”
“Ignore the stares, you mean?” Harry asked for clarification. When Neville nodded, he took a moment to think before responding. “I don't; I just don't let it bother me.”
Now that he'd gotten over the initial shock of his fame, he simply found the reactions too amusing to be bothered by them. There was just something funny about watching people make utter fools of themselves. It was kind of a twisted way of seeing things, but he couldn't help it.
“I don't think I could do that,” Neville mumbled quietly.
“I think you could,” Harry countered, once more getting a shocked stare from the boy next to him. He smiled and looked straight ahead to see they were nearing the Great Hall. “Remember this, Neville, the only thing you ever need to worry about is how you perceive yourself. So long as you are comfortable with who you are, then you need not be bothered by how other people perceive you to be.”
Neville didn't say anything as they swept into the Great Hall, but if Harry were to judge by the look on the boy's face, he would have to say that his words had at least taken root in Neville's mind. Now, so long as he took Harry's words to heart, he would eventually become more confident in himself.
Of course, a little subtle reinforcement every now and again never hurt anyone.
As they entered the Great Hall, everyone inside stopped what they were doing and stared. Girls quit chattering about whatever it was the fairer sex chattered about; boys stopped talking about sports and ceased their good-natured ribbing of each other. All eyes turned to Harry and Neville.
They must have made an odd sight, the tall, athletic boy and the short boy with the round face and skittish nature. Thankfully, Neville didn't seem to be paying anymore attention to the stares, busy as he was going over Harry's advice.
Harry kept his head high and his back and shoulders straight as he walked forward with the confidence of a person completely at ease in his own skin.
Wanting to be seen as a little more approachable, he nodded in greeting to a few of the people he passed, regardless of whether they were in his House or not. This eliciting hushed whispers from many of the boy's, and excited and shy giggling from the girls. He wondered about that, but shrugged the thought off as inconsequential.
Soon he and Neville were sitting at the far corner of the Gryffindor table, and conversation picked up again, this time about him instead of whatever these people were talking about before.
Harry sat on the window side of the table, allowing him a full glimpse of the other three tables so he could observe the other students. He piled food onto his plate, mostly eggs and fruits (the healthiest food he could find there), as the jumbled noise from a hundred different voices filtered through his ears. Beside him, Neville was silently putting food on his own plate, contemplative expression still in place.
As conversations continued, Harry's eyes strayed toward the door leading to the entrance hall as more and more students poured through. From those doors his eyes caught a glimpse of red hair, and he watched as Ronald Weasley slumped into the Great Hall wearing the yellow and black colors of his house, and sat down at the Hufflepuff table.
To Harry, the boy looked disappointed, which was to be expected. The Weasley family were one of those families who were always sorted into a specific house without fail. For nearly two generations every single Weasley who entered Hogwarts had been a Gryffindor—until now.
Harry wondered why Ron had been sorted into Hufflepuff. He would admit to not knowing the boy very well, but the ginger-haired boy didn't seem very hard working. Perhaps that meant he was very loyal? Or maybe it was a form of reverse psychology. Had the sorting hat placed Ron in Hufflepuff because he wasn't very hard working or loyal in an effort to make the boy understand the value of those traits?
Possible, plausible even, though Harry suspected another reason might have been due to their confrontation on the train. Perhaps it wasn't comfortable with them in the same house? He supposed it didn't matter one way or the other.
A few minutes after Ron entered the room, Harry saw Hannah and Susan walk into the Great Hall. Both had donned their school robes, which were the same House colors as Ron's. Harry stood up, drawing much attention to himself, but he ignored that and began making his way towards the two Hufflepuffs.
It was time to begin the first phase of one the plans he had concocted recently. It was a small step, but sometimes you had to crawl before you could walk, and walk before you could run. This instance was no different.
“Morning Hannah, Susan,” Harry greeted the pair with a congenial smile.
“Harry!” Hannah exclaimed in pleasant surprise ,while Susan's cheeks gained a light red tint. The blond, pig-tailed girl quickly regained her wits, whilst her friend shuffled a little. “Good morning.”
“I trust you both slept well?” Harry said inquiringly. Hannah gave him a slight giggle.
“Yes!”
Harry smiled at Hannah's answer, then turned to look at Susan. The redhead noticed this, and her cheeks turned a shade of red that nearly matched her hair.
“I did as well,” she answered in a soft voice, her eyes going from his to the floor, then back to his. “And you? Did you sleep okay?”
“Like a rock,” Harry said with a charming smile. Susan looked down at her toes.
“Anyway,” Harry continued after a few seconds, “I was wondering if you two would like to have breakfast with me?”
“Breakfast? With you?” Hannah's mouth worked just enough to get that much out. Susan seemed even worse off, her eyes having widened to the size of galleons.
“Am I really so awful that you wouldn't want to have breakfast with me?” asked Harry, affecting a hurt expression. Both Hannah and Susan looked at him in shock.
“Of course not,” Hannah hastened to assure him that she did not find his company unpleasurable. “It's just—I mean—are we even allowed to sit with you. I mean, you're a Gryffindor and we're Hufflepuff. I mean, aren't we supposed to sit at our own table?”
“It's generally expected that you sit at your own table,” Harry explained patiently. “But not necessary. There are no rules that state you must sit with your house, or that you can't sit with another house.” When they continued to look unsure Harry decided to make a bold move, a Gryffindor move. He grabbed the pair by the hand and began leading them to his table. “So, come on. I want the first two friends I made on the train to eat breakfast with me.”
Everyone watched Harry once more as he did something that had most likely never been done in Hogwarts for a long time, if ever. If there hadn't already been a smile on his face, there would have been now. Perhaps his example would be followed by those who have friends in another house. He could only hope people would eventually begin following his lead.
“Well, alright,” Hannah said with a giggle, her face slightly flushed. Beside her, being silently dragged along, was a red-faced Susan, who couldn't stop staring at her's and Harry's conjoined hands. She was blushing to the roots of her hair. “I guess we could join you for breakfast.”
“Great,” Harry said as he walked over to a surprised Neville. He let go of Susan and Hannah, allowing them to claim the seats across from him, while he took his original seat next to Neville.
“I believe introductions are in order.” Harry cleared his throat. “Hannah, Susan, this is Neville Longbottom. Neville, this is Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones.”
“Erm,” Neville stuttered for a moment, but quickly jerked his hand out and held it over the table to Hannah. “Nice to meet you, Hannah.”
Hannah smiled as they shook. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Susan,” Neville greeted with an unsure nod. There was no hand shake involved, but unlike with Hannah, Neville spoke to Susan with familiarity. “It's good to see you again.”
“Good to see you too, Neville,” Susan spoke softly, as was her wont. “How is your grandmother?”
“Oh, she's doing well,” Neville edged, and Harry sighed. One of the first things he had noticed about the boy was how strained he sounded when he spoke of his 'gran.' Harry had come to the conclusion that the Dowager of Longbottom was at least part of the reason Neville's was so underconfident. “How's your Aunt?”
“Auntie Amelia is fine,” Susan said. “Busy, but she seems to enjoy her work.”
“That's good.”
Harry hummed in the back of his throat as he listened to the two. “I take it you two know each other from somewhere?” he asked curiously.
“Ah, yes,” Neville stuttered a bit as he realized he'd been ignoring the Harry Potter. “My gran and Susan's aunt travel in the same social circles.” Which Harry took to mean they were in the same political circles. It would make sense, both Longbottoms and Bones were considered 'light neutral' families; families that were light, but didn't necessarily fall in Dumbledore's camp.
Of course, that was before Alice and Frank—who were good friends with Harry's mother and father—had joined Dumbledore in the fight against Voldemort. Despite this, the Longbottoms were still considered politically neutral, and had become even more so in recent years.
“Makes sense.” Harry nodded, then smoothly changed the subject. “So are you excited for our first few classes today?”
“Yes,” Hannah said, her face lighting up in an excited smile. “I can't wait to see what we're going to be learning. I'm really looking forward to Charms class.”
Harry smiled, and thus the conversation went along this vane. Harry made sure to ask questions to all three of his companions, mainly focusing on school and what they wanted to learn, trying to get a feel for what they would be good in and what they didn't like. He made sure to ask questions in a way that required more than a simple one word answer, and also made sure both Neville and Susan had an equal amount of speaking time as the more talkative Hannah did.
As they spoke—their conversation had turned from Hogwarts to their favorite hobbies—Professor Sprout and Professor McGanagall walked over to them, both smiling.
Well, Professor Sprout was smiling. Professor McGonagall looked like she was trying to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.
Pamona Sprout was a very plump woman, with a head of messy gray hair and a kind smile. She looked like the kind of woman who had a nurturing disposition and loved the outdoors.
“Five points to all four of you,” Professor Sprout said. “It is good to see students seeking friendship outside of their House.”
Hannah beamed at her Head of House, while both Susan and Neville gave the woman shy but happy smiles. Harry offered his own charming smile and nodded his head graciously.
“These are your schedules,” Professor McGonagall spoke up, handing both Neville and Harry their schedules while Professor Sprout gave Susan and Hannah theirs. “Have a good day, Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom.”
As the two Professors walked away, Harry peered at his school schedule. “It looks like we've got Charms first, followed by Transfiguration.” He looked at the two Hufflepuffs. “What about you?”
“Potions followed by Transfiguration,” Hannah answered, schedule in one hand and a muffin in the other.
Harry smiled. “Looks like we'll be sharing a class together on our first day then.”
“Seems so.”
After breakfast, Harry and Neville said goodbye to Hannah and Susan, then made their way to the Charms classroom.
While they walked, Harry once again had to marvel at the interior of the castle. There were exactly 142 staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to jump over. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It made getting where you wanted to go very difficult, because sometimes the door or staircase or doorway that led to a certain hallway or room at one point, might not lead to that same hallway or room during another. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.
Eventually, Harry and Neville arrived at the Charms classroom. It looked very much like a lecture hall. Instead of desks lining the room in rows up front, there were long tables with chairs set on either side of the room, with another set of tables behind those that sat on a slightly raised platform, so students in the back could see over the students in front. At the end of the room, in front of a large, glass window, sat the desk Harry assumed was for the teacher.
Harry and Neville found a spot near front, close to the teacher's desk, and idly conversed while waiting for class to start, during which more and more students arrived. Before long all the tables were filled with excitably chattering first years.
Harry immediately noticed something that bothered him about this class. The Gryffindors shared this class with Ravenclaw, clearly denoted by their differing colors. The Gryffindors all sat on the left side of the room, while the Ravenclaws had taken the right.
This would need to be corrected soon. If all went well, Harry would rectify this instinctual need for house segregation. After all, he needed more allies than just those in Gryffindor, and the best way to do that was to rid everybody of this instinctive need to befriend only those people from their own house.
Soon after all of the students had filed in, a very short man with short cropped black hair that framed either side of his face, a mustache and slightly pointed ears that vaguely reminded Harry of a goblin's walked in. Perhaps the man had some goblin blood in him.
He wore the robes that denoted him as the Head of the House of Ravenclaw; blue robes with silver trim, a vest and a large pointed hat.
The class simmered down when they realized their teacher was in the room, only to start laughing when the tiny Professor had to use a stack of books and stand on his desk to be seen by everyone. The short man didn't seem bothered by this, however, and merely smiled congenially as he waved his hands for silence.
“It is a pleasure to see you all this morning,” the Professor began what looked to be his start of the term speech. “As my Ravens already know, my name is Filius Flitwick, and I will be your Charms Instructor for the duration of your stay here at Hogwarts. I hope we can all get along and have fun while learning one the main subjects we teach here. And please, do not hesitate to ask me any questions you may have. You won't learn anything if you don't ask questions.”
Hhis small speech done, the diminutive professor began taking roll. Harry listened to each name as it was called, and observed those students, taking careful note of each one and keeping mental tabs on his observations. When Professor Flitwick got to Harry's name, the man gave an excited squeak and tumbled off his stack of books and out of sight, eliciting much laughter from the students.
Harry did not laugh, but he did smile. He suspected that the professor had done that on purpose to take attention away from him. It was just a hunch, and he had no real proof, but was nevertheless grateful. It was hard to learn when people were gawking at you.
Now all he had to do was see if this class met his expectations.