CHAPTER SEVEN –
Flying Lesson
"Good morning, class." Madam Hooch strode forward, passing by the students. She stopped when she reached the head of the column. "Welcome to your first flying lesson." She gestured to the brooms. "Well, what are you all waiting for? Place your hand over a broom, and say 'up!'"
Harry held his hand over the broom, and watched impassively as it leapt into his hand. He was the first, and only, student to have this happen straight away. Hermione glared at him, jealous at his quick pick-up of the material.
He looked at her, shouting at the broom to rise. He allowed his to float freely, and went to stand behind her. "Hermione." She stopped her shouting, and looked at him. "Let me ask you something. Did you ever have a dog, when you were younger?"
She looked at him, curious as to this apparent random comment. "Yeah, I had a dog when I was a kid."
Harry nodded. "Okay... when you wanted the dog to do something, did you bellow at it, or coax it?"
Hermione looked at her broom for a moment. "Up." She commanded in a firm tone. The broom leapt into her hand, and stayed perfectly still.
Harry looked back at his, and grinned cheekily. "Sit." He commanded. The tail-end of the broom lowered to the ground. "Lie down." The broom's nose sunk down, leaving the broom flat on the ground. Harry could almost see an eager puppy, waiting to please it's master.
"Up." The broom leapt into his waiting hands. The rest of the class were giving him incredulous looks, as he commanded a broom like no other.
"Mr. Potter?" Madam Hooch looked over at him.
"Yes, Madam Hooch?" Harry responded politely.
"I've never seen anyone able to command a broom like that before." Even she, with her countless hours of experience, could not do such a thing.
Harry grinned rakishly, making several girls' hearts melt. "It must just be my natural charm, Madam."
Even Hooch wasn't immune to Harry's charm, and felt her cheeks blush slightly. "Must be." She cleared her throat, trying to get the blush under control. "Since you seem to be the most natural at this, would you care to show us what you can do?"
Harry nodded, leapt onto the broom, and shot into the sky. For the next few minutes, everyone was in awe at the manoeuvres Harry was able to make the old broom perform. "What the devil?" Hooch was stunned as she saw the broom start to tailspin, falling to the ground faster and faster. She had her wand in hand when the broom smoothly pulled up, and she heard Harry's fierce cry of glee, as the broom sailed over the grass at a height of less than two feet. He brought the broom about, and slowed as he approached the crowd of students.
Hooch was in awe. "I've never seen anyone ride a broom like that, Mr. Potter... Even your father couldn't do that."
Harry cocked his head. "My father, ma'am? He was a good flier?"
"Don't you know, Mr. Potter?" Hooch asked, curious as to why he didn't know.
"It's in your blood, Harry." Hermione said softly, from just behind him. "Your Dad was a chaser for Gryffindor."
"Huh." Harry said. "Well... I never knew that."
Hooch grinned at him. "I think I'll be having a word with Professor Flitwick, Mr. Potter." Her grin widened. "With such natural talent, you'll be a natural at Quidditch."
Hermione grinned at him, and shyly took his hand. "First years never make the house teams, Harry!" She smiled at him, making her face come alive.
Damn it! Does she have to look so bloody cute? Harry thought to himself, while gently squeezing her hand. "Won't that interfere with my studies, ma'am?"
Hooch waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I'm sure something could be worked out, Mr. Potter." She started to walk away, checking on the other students.
"What about you, Hermione?" Harry asked softly, very aware she hadn't let his hand go.
She looked up at him shyly. "Uh... I don't think I'll be a very good flier, Harry."
"Why?" He saw the nervousness in her eyes. "Are you afraid of heights?"
She looked at him. "Uh... n-no... Okay, yes, I am." She started biting on her bottom lip.
Don't do that! Harry mentally screamed, valiantly resisting the urge to start nibbling on her bottom lip. God damn it, I'm eleven, and I'm starting to get hormones! Bloody puberty! He started to pull her towards his broom. "Come on. Let's see what we can do about that."
"Madam Hooch?" Harry called over to the instructor.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"Ma'am, Hermione's afraid of heights. Is it okay if I take her up with me?" Harry asked, turning on the charm, and adding puppy-dog eyes.
Hooch relented. "Can you handle flying for two, Mr. Potter?"
"I think so, ma'am." Harry replied, switching from 'puppy-dog' to 'aw, shucks' eyes. "I didn't have a problem when it was just me."
Hooch nodded. While it wasn't officially policy, Harry had shown in two minutes that he could handle a broomstick better than she could. "Very well. Please be careful though, Mr. Potter."
"Of course, ma'am." Harry picked up the broom, and held it out to Hermione. "Come on. We'll go up together."
Hermione shook her head in panic. "I can't, Harry."
Harry physically picked her up, and plopped her onto the broom. "Yes, you can. And you will." He climbed on the broom behind her, and took her right hand in his left. "Now, grab onto the broom with your left hand." Hermione followed the order, placing a shaking left hand onto the rough wood of the broom. Harry leaned forward, close enough to smell her hair, and grasped the broom with his right hand.
"Now, we're both going to be in control." He squeezed her hand, resting his head on her shoulder. "Just relax. Remember, the broom is your puppy, and it'll do what you want it to. Just remember, we're the ones in control."
She nodded shakily, and pulled her left hand slightly. The broom lifted off the ground, rising slowly into the air.
Harry used his hand to pull the broom slightly higher, increasing both acceleration and height. He looked at his travelling companion, sniggering slightly. "Hermione, open your eyes."
She did, seeing she was high up. She squealed, and slammed her eyes shut.
Okay... she'll never learn if she won't open her eyes. Hmm... Harry thought for a moment. Ooh! The lake! He leaned slightly, letting the broom bank gently. Hermione let out another squeal as the broom started to accelerate.
Harry leaned closer, and whispered into her ear. "I've got you, Hermione. I won't let you fall with me. If you do fall, I'll always be there to catch you."
Hermione, without opening her eyes, turned her head towards him. "You promise?"
Harry nodded, laughing silently. "I promise, Hermione. I'll never let you fall." He slowed the broom down, as he approached the lake. For a few moments, he steered gently, trying to get into the best position, before cutting the momentum altogether. "Hermione?"
"Hmm?" She breathed back.
"We're here."
"Where?" Hermione asked, still keeping her eyes closed.
"Hermione, open your eyes. Please, trust me." The gentle pleading in his voice tugged on her heart strings, damn it! She opened her eyes, and gasped.
The two were five hundred feet above the lake, but Hermione didn't notice the height. In front of them was Hogwarts castle, the sunlight behind it, causing the whole building to glow orange. There was a reflection of the building in the lake, the scene one of incredible beauty.
"Wow!" Hermione gasped again. "Harry, it's beautiful!" She looked over her shoulder at him. "How did you know where to come?"
Harry just smiled at her. "It's what we saw when we came across the lake, remember? The castle at night, all those lights. A shining beacon... all alone, in the night. Well, this is the daytime view. I thought you'd enjoy it."
"I am." She leaned back into his chest. "Thanks, Harry."
Harry squeezed her hand again. "Anytime, Hermione. Anytime." He pulled his hands free, and wrapped them around her waist, causing her to squeal slightly. "You ready to fly us back?"
Hermione shook her head quickly. "No, Harry, what if I get it wrong?"
"Hermione..." Harry chuckled in her ear, his breath making her shudder slightly. "Don't think about it. Just feel. You can do this."
She nodded, sucking up her courage, and tentatively placed both hands on the broom. She pushed forward, gently accelerating and lowering their altitude. Harry closed his eyes, letting the wind, and Hermione's bushy hair, hit his face.
Ah... this is the life. He thought, not noticing Hermione glance over her shoulder at him, a gentle smile tugging on her lips.
He's enjoying this. Hermione mused. This is kinda fun. "Harry?"
"Mm?" He moaned.
"Do you think... could we do this again sometime?" She asked softly.
Harry chuckled again. "Whenever you want, Hermione." He squeezed her waist gently, sending goosebumps down her arms.
"Okay." She whispered, gently guiding the broom back towards Madam Hooch and the rest of the first years.
In the castle, several people were following the flight were awe, amusement, and chuckles at the romance.
Flitwick and McGonagall, both on free periods, watched the two.
"They remind me of his parents." Flitwick mused, watching the two gently fly back.
"A hundred galleons they'll be married when they graduate." McGonagall said, feeling her old heart mellow at the sight. "They're young now... when their hormones kick in, they'll be the Golden Couple of Hogwarts."
Flitwick looked up at her, taking another sip of his tea. "Are you betting they'll marry when they graduate, or by the time they graduate?"
McGonagall thought for a moment. "I believe they'll marry afterthey graduate. James and Lily married straight out of school."
Flitwick held out his hand. "Deal. I believe they'll already be married by the time they graduate."
The two teacher shook hands, sealing the deal.
Hermione guided the broom onto the grass, before pulling to a stop a few metres away from Hooch. Even though Hermione was a young girl, that short flight was about the most romantic thing she'd done.
Harry opened his eyes as the two came in to land. He released her waist, hearing her make a slight 'mew' sound, and smiled to himself.
"That was fun." Hermione said, beaming over at him. "I really enjoyed that, Harry. Thank you."
He smiled at her, a warm grin on his face that was entirely unforced. "I love flying." He whispered. "Up there, we're all free. There's no baggage. No expectations." He looked up, unaware of the dreamy look on Hermione's face. "There's yourself, nature, and freedom." He shook his head, walking away, ignorant of the looks he was receiving from the rest of his class.
CHAPTER EIGHT –
Potions Class
Harry had to suppress a smirk all through breakfast. Today was the first potions lesson with Snivellus... no, Professor Snape. Hermione was idly flicking through her potions textbook, curious as to how it would go.
"So... first potions lessons, Harry?" Cho asked from across the table.
"Yep." Harry replied idly. "Looking forward to it." He gestured at Hermione's textbook. "It's a fascinating subject, isn't it?"
Cho rolled her eyes. "It would be, if it wasn't for Snape."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, a rebuke on her lips about disrespecting a professor, when a hand on her arm from Harry silenced her.
"Oh?" Harry asked calmly. "Is there a problem with Professor Snape?"
Cho rolled her eyes again. "Yes. He's an evil, greasy git who hates anyone that isn't in Slytherin."
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true." Hermione said quietly. "Maybe he was just having a bad day."
Snorting, Cho giggled. "A bad day that lasted every day for the whole school year?" She shook her head. "Nope, he just hates anyone who isn't in Slytherin."
"How do you know?" Harry asked, squeezing Hermione's arm gently.
"We had potions lessons with the Slytherins last year." Cho replied. "They mix and match who goes with who. From what I've heard, for your year it's Slytherin/Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff, while my year has Slytherin/Ravenclaw." She sighed, and slumped down in her seat. "It's pathetic. You should have seen it. One of the Slytherins blew up his cauldron, and he blamed Marietta for it! He docked fifty points, fifty points, from her for sabotaging his potion! It was an outrage."
Harry thought back to his first potion lesson in the original time-line, and suppressed a smile. He knew how petty Snape was. "I'm sure we'll be fine, Cho." Harry said confidently. "Thanks for the 'heads-up', though."
Harry and Hermione had entered the Dungeon, and sat in the front row, both eager to learn the fascinating subject of Potions. Of course, Harry was eager to take Snape down a peg or two, but he wouldn't mind learning Potions as well, you know... as a little thing on the side.The door slammed open, admitting Snape, who tore through the room, his cape flapping behind him.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving in this class." He got to his desk, and spun round, fixing his beady glare on all students. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making, or even to recognise it as magic at all." His glare fixed on Harry, who smiled warmly at him. "However... for those with the... disposition... I can teach you how to ensnare the senses and bewitch the mind. I can teach you how to brew glory, bottle fame, and even put a stopper... in death."
Hermione glanced down to see that Harry had already written Snape's entire speech down, verbatim. And he hadn't even picked up his pen. She glanced at him, curiosity on her face.
Snape took a step forward. "Mr. Potter. Our new... celebrity." He smiled malevolently. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Without missing a beat, Harry responded. "Depending on the quantities involved, Professor, an explosion potentially large enough to destroy Hogwarts." He smiled. "However, if you were to add a stabilising agent, such as powdered belladonna, or maybe even crystallised moonstone, you would have a rudimentary form of the sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death."
Snape sneered. "Where would you look if I asked you to find me a Bezoar?"
Harry grinned, and pointed to the Potions Store cupboard at the front of the room.
Snarling, Snape took another step forward. "And if there were none there, Potter?"
"Oh. You meant where do Bezoars come from?" Harry asked, smiling innocently. "Why didn't you say that, Professor?" He had to suppress the smirk that was threatening to erupt onto his face. "A Bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat, sir." He decided to push a little further. "It's also a common antidote to most poisons." He smiled disarmingly at Snape. "But, since we don't have to worry about being poisoned in your classroom, sir, I'm not worried if we run out of Bezoars."
Snape growled, actually growled, at Harry. "And what is the difference between monkshood and Wolfsbane?"
Harry shrugged slightly. "The name." He grinned. "It's also called 'aconite', Professor. Didn't you know that?"
Snape snapped. "That'll be fifty points from Ravenclaw from being a know-it-all smart arse, Potter!" He snapped viciously. "How dare you question me?"
Harry smiled innocently, ignoring the glares from his fellow Ravenclaws at losing so many points during is first lesson. Harry, however, had a plan.
He stood up, and straightened his shoulders. "Point adjudication request by the Board." He said firmly.
Snape looked confused at him. "What the devil are you blithering on about now, Potter?" He snapped.
A soft feminine voice spoke out into the classroom. "Identify." The voice commanded.
"Potter, Harry James, Ravenclaw House, first year student." Harry replied.
"Specify nature of adjudication." The voice said.
"During my first potions lessons, Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, removed points from Ravenclaw House for answering his questions correctly. Said questions were not from the first year syllabus."
There was silence for a moment, as everyone, including Snape, stared at Harry. Harry, however, was immune to the stares, waiting patiently. "Adjudication confirmed."
Harry smiled, and sat down again, ignoring the questioning looks he got from Hermione.
"What was that, Potter?" Snape demanded, coming over to Harry, and standing directly in front of him. Harry had to resist the urge to wrinkle his nose at the smell coming from the Professor. Christ, hasn't this guy heard of breath-mints? I can just see it now... "Tic-tac, Professor? Two hours of minty freshness, with only two calories!" Probably wouldn't go down too well.
"What was what, sir?" Harry asked, smiling innocently.
"Detention, Potter!" Snape snapped, turning on his heel. He made his way over to the blackboard.
"For what, Professor?" Harry asked, still smiling innocently.
"For your cheek, Potter!" Snape snarled, resolving to ignore the little brat.
Harry stood up again, ignoring the pulling on his sleeve from Hermione. "Adjudication request by the Board." Harry called out.
"Identify." The soft voice called out again.
"Potter, Harry James, Ravenclaw House, first year student." Harry replied.
"Specify nature of adjudication." The voice said.
"Invalid detention assigned to a student by Potions Master Severus Snape." Harry replied, ignoring the puce-colour Snape was turning. "Detention was assigned for 'cheek' after answering the Potions Master's questions."
"Potter!" Snape snarled, drawing his wand.
"Adjudication confirmed." The voice said.
"What was that?" Snape demanded, waving his wand threateningly.
Harry smirked. "I thought there wasn't any foolish wand-waving in this class, Professor?"
"Out!" Snape roared. "All of you, get out! And that will be one hundred points from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff!"
The students grabbed their bags and dashed out of the door.
Harry leaned against the wall outside the dungeon, taking a deep breath and smiling at the rest of the class. As expected, they were less than pleased with him."What the bloody hell are you doing, Potter?" Boot demanded, grabbing Harry by the elbow.
Snape came scurrying out of the dungeon, robes billowing, ignoring the class as he rushed away.
Hannah Abbott joined Terry. "You just cost us a hundred points!"
Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't. Go and check the counters. You'll see they haven't been affected." One of the Hufflepuff boys, Harry didn't know who, dashed away, going to the House Point counters located just outside the Great Hall.
Terry released Harry, and stood a few feet away, glaring at Harry nastily. Hermione came and stood next to him.
"What did you do?" She whispered. She, too, was upset by the loss of that many points so early in the year.
Harry grinned at her. "I'll tell you in a minute, when they come back." He smiled his 'aw, shucks' grin. "Trust me, you'll like it."
The boy came rushing back, breathing heavily and alarmingly red-faced. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, as he tried to get his breath back. "It's true!" He gasped. "We haven't lost any points."
Harry stood up, and dusted off his robes. "We though here?" He asked Terry and Hannah, who nodded dumbly. "Good." He held out his arm to Hermione. "Shall we retire to the Common Room, Miss Hermione?"
She shrugged, and laced her arm through his. "Lead on, good sir."
The two calmly left, leaving the other students pondering the same thing: What the hell was going on?
Once back in the Common Room, Harry led Hermione to his dorm room, and shut the door. As expected, Hermione erupted into rapidly-asked questions."What the hell was that, Harry?" She asked. "What did you do to him? What's an 'adjudication request'?"
Harry dropped onto his bed, and patted the duvet next to him, inviting her to sit down. She sat down tentatively, aware that she was in a boy's room.
"Have you read the teacher's code of conduct?" He asked.
She was disarmed by the odd question. "No. I didn't know there was one."
Harry nodded. "I found an old copy at Flourish and Blotts when I was doing my school shopping. It's basically a list of guidelines that they are required to follow." He ran his fingers through his hair, distracting Hermione for a moment. "It includes sections on punishments, such as point removals and the assigning of detentions. In the old days, if a teacher gave an unfair detention, the student could request that the punishment be looked into by a higher-ranking teacher."
Hermione's mouth pursed into a small 'O'. "So... you requested that the points he removed be checked out by someone else?"
Harry nodded. "Sort of. I actually requested adjudication by the Board of Governors, so I'll need to submit my request in writing to them." He grinned at her. "It also has the fortunate side-effect of ensuring that Snape can't give or take any points until the adjudication process is complete. Same with detentions."
Hermione thought it over. "So, you've made him toothless."
"Yep." Harry grinned again. "I've removed the fangs from the Head Snake." He leaned back on the bed, lying down. Hermione followed, lying next to him. "Not bad for a Thursday."
CHAPTER NINE –
More Weasleys
The afternoon passed slowly, since half of the first years had been ejected from their Potions Lesson. Harry and Hermione, sticking with the Ravenclaw mind-set, read through the Potions textbook, consulting frequently with 1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi, as they read through what would have been the days' lesson.
After writing an essay about a simple potion to cure boils, something Harry knew would be due the next lesson, the two decided to head down to the Great Hall for dinner. Once again, Harry held out his arm in the 'gentlemanly' fashion, which Hermione took with a blush and a faint giggle.
On their way to the Great Hall, the two were approached by a pair of red-headed twins. When Harry looked up and saw them coming, a look of pure panic erupted onto his face, causing Hermione to discretely pull out her wand.
One of the approaching red-heads noted Harry's look, and tapped on his twin's arm. "What's wrong with him?"
Harry grasped Hermione's hand. "Hermione, do you see two red-headed demons approaching us?" He asked theatrically.
Fred and George grinned as one, as they quickened their pace.
Hermione looked at the two approaching teens. "I don't know if I'd call them demons, Harry." She said snootily. "Maybe fiends, or miscreants, but not demons."
Fred elbowed George gently. "They've heard of us, brother mine!"
Harry pulled on Hermione's hands. "Run!" He bellowed, staring to pull Hermione along with him. "Run from Hell's Carrots!"
Hermione, baffled, shrugged her shoulders and ran, chasing after Harry, who still had hold of her hand. They belted down the Charms corridor, before Harry pulled them into an alcove just before a large portrait.
Hermione, very aware she was in almost full-body contact with Harry, looked up into his eyes, breathing deeply.
"Harry, what the hell are we doing?" She whispered, leaning close to him.
"Hang on a minute, Hermione." Harry whispered back, pointing at the large portrait. A moment later, the portrait opened, revealing two Weasleys, holding a battered piece of parchment.
Harry raised his wand, sending a silent Accio at the parchment, catching it as he stepped out of the alcove. "Thank you, gentlemen." He said, folding the parchment. "So... the infamous Weasley twins." He held out a hand. "Word has it you're the second greatest pranksters in Hogwarts history."
Fred stepped forward, a little wary of the first year who had bested them. "How do you know who we are?" He asked, sending a silent glance at George.
Harry smiled. "Well, the red hair gives it away." He said, smiling. Harry held up the piece of parchment. "The fact that you're carrying one of the only relics of the greatest pranksters tells me that you're the second best."
George drew his wand. "You seem to know an awful lot for a first year, Potter." He said calmly.
Harry nodded once. "Yes, I do." He reached out and took Hermione's hand. "Shall we step into your office, gentlemen? All shall be revealed."
Fred shrugged, and opened the portrait hole, before scampering inside, followed by the other three.
Once inside the tunnel, Harry lit his wand, sitting down on the dusty floor. "I think proper introductions are in order. I'm Harry Potter, and my beautiful, charming companion here is Miss Hermione Granger." He gestured at Hermione, who blushed prettily.
"I'm Fred." One of the twins said.
"I'm George." The other added.
"We're the Weasley twins." They completed together.
"I know." Harry said, laughing. Even after all these years, any conversation with the twins was funny. He held up the parchment. "I must admit, gentlemen, I'm curious as to how you got hold of this."
"Nicked it." Fred said, casually. "How do you know what it is?"
Harry placed the parchment on the floor, tapping it with his wand. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."
"How'd you know the password?" George asked.
Harry just smiled, and pointed at the parchment, where the opening words were filling in.
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, purveyors of magical mischief, welcome you to the Marauder's Map.
Harry kept his wand on the parchment. "Good day, gentlemen."
The other three live people watched as the wording on the parchment started to change. George glanced at Fred. It had never done this for them.
Mr. Padfoot would like to ask if we have a new user.
Mr. Moony confirms Mr. Padfoot's question, and would like to know your name.
Harry just smiled. "I am sometimes known as 'Pronglet'."
Mr. Prongs would like to ask if you are related to any of the Marauders.
Mr. Wormtail concurs with Mr. Prongs' question, and would like to know your name.
"I am the son of Prongs." Harry said, glancing up at the two Weasleys, who's mouths had opened in shock.
Mr. Prongs would like to welcome his noble off-spring to the Marauder's Map.
Mr. Padfoot would also like to welcome the newest Marauder, and ask how the devil Mr. Prongs managed to reproduce.
Harry chuckled. "Well, once upon a time, my mummy and daddy were in love, and one quiet evening..."
Mr. Moony requests that you do not reveal the gory details of Mr. Prongs' love-life.
Mr. Padfoot would like to know when Mr. Prongs got a love-life.
Mr. Wormtail confirms his disbelief, and concurs with Mr. Moony to not poison us with the details.
Mr. Prongs would like to ask Mr. Padfoot, Mr. Moony and Mr. Wormtail to sod off while he talks with his son.
Harry chuckled at the in-built insults, before looking up at the Weasleys. "Does that answer your questions, Fred, George?"
"You're the son of a Marauder." George started.
"The son of Prongs." Fred finished.
"Wicked." The two gasped together.
Harry looked over at Hermione, who was watching with a faintly puzzled air. He took pity on her. "Hermione, this map is a miracle of charms work." He opened it up, pointing to a certain passage, where four tiny little names hovered. "It shows the location of everyone in Hogwarts. Look," He pointed to the Ravenclaw dorm rooms. "It show's everyone in our dorm." He looked over. "Percy and Ron," He looked up at the Weasleys, "are in the Gryffindor Common Room."
He laughed. "Snape's stalking around his dungeon. Probably upset..."
"From what we've heard about you, little Harrikins-" The twin on the left started.
"It's your fault he's upset." The other twin finished. Even with all his future knowledge, he couldn't tell the damned Weasley twins apart. It didn't help that their own mother couldn't tell her spawn apart.
Harry bowed theatrically. "Thank you." He said, looking smug. "Honestly, the rumours that float about this place... If we could harness them into a source of power, we'd be able to travel all over the world in a second."
Hermione added her two cents. "The only two things to travel faster than light. Starships and gossip."
Harry looked over, one eyebrow arched. "You're a Trekker, Hermione?" He asked.
"Yep." She replied, giggling at the total incomprehension on the twins faces. "We'll talk about that later."
"Of course." Harry said, for a moment imagining her older self in a uniform from the Original Series. Especially the boots... He shook his head, filing the image into 'look, but never touch, especially while in school' category. He looked back at the Weasley twins. "So, gentlemen, I hate to ask it of you, but could I keep the map?"
Fred looked at George, an entire conversation held in a moment with just glances. "Shouldn't be a problem, Harry, old man,"
"Of course, we may need to borrow it from time to time." George concluded.
"Please, stop that." Hermione said, looking from one twin to another. "It's like watching a tennis match."
"Ah, but that's part of the fun, Hermione!" Harry said, cackling like a fool. Both Fred and George took a subtle step back from the new lunatic, exchanging glances with each other and Hermione. Harry caught the glances, and settled down immediately. "Fine." He pouted. "You spoil all my fun."
Hermione cuffed him on the arm gently, before turning back to the Weasley twins. "So, what's the deal with your brother?"
"Which one?" The twins asked in stereo.
"Ron." Hermione said, not noticing Harry stiffen slightly next to her, before he forced himself to relax. "He seems a bit... weird."
Harry snorted, sorting through his memories of the previous time-line. Ron was beyond weird. He was a complete prat, who deserved a good killing for his behaviour.
Fred and George looked at each other. "Ron's always been a bit... odd." George finally said. "He seems to have a bit of an inferiority complex."
Harry couldn't resist. No, he doesn't have an inferiority complex. He's simply inferior. He began to muse. I suppose after Bill, the successful Curse-Breaker, Charlie, the successful beast-master, Percy, the perfect brown-nosing little sycophant, and Fred and George, the perfect pranksters/inventors, there was nothing good left to pass on to Ron. At least Ginny got some good looks. And they weren't too bloody hot, either. Harry was dragged back from his thoughts by the others staring at him. "What?" He asked.
Hermione giggled at him. "We were just asking your opinion, and you looked to be a million miles away."
No... just six years up-stream. "Sorry, was just lost in thought. What were you asking?"
Fred spoke up. "Ron told us that he was looking for you on the train, but he couldn't find you. Were you hiding?"
Yes. "No." Harry replied, mustering up his 'innocent deer-in-headlights' look. "I was talking with Hermione for the whole trip. The only visitor we got was this little albino ferret."
"Malfoy." The Weasleys said together. "The son of Lucius Malfoy." Fred added.
"He already told us that we were disgraces to the name of wizard." George said.
Harry snorted, closely followed by Hermione. "He's a little shit who should be sterilised for the good of the human race." Harry said, smiling at Hermione. "He came up to us in our compartment on the train, called us all Mudbloods. I stood up to him, watched him nearly piss himself, then run away."
"And?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry with a slightly disapproving air.
"Well..." Harry looked over, giving her a repentant little smile. "I might have broken his nose, too." He grinned at Fred and George, who had matching grins. "Just a little bit."
Fred and George each extended a hand. Figuring to save time, Harry took both of their hands at once and shook. "Anyway, no, we didn't see Ron on the train."
"He did try to speak to you during the Sorting." Hermione added.
Yes, and I ignored the little prick. "I was having a chat with the Hat. That was more important."
"One would get the impression that you don't like out little brother." Fred said, staring at Harry with a frankly terrifying gaze.
Harry cocked his head, biting down on his lip for a moment. "Well... he's not exactly made a good first impression." Harry said diplomatically. "I mean, when he tried to speak to me during the Sorting, he was piss wet through. He fell in the lake during our crossing." And I will never admit that I may have pushed him using a little wandless magic. Not even under the threat of the Cruciatus."And, when I looked over during the feast..."
"Say no more." George said immediately. "His eating habits, at home at least, are legendary."
That's one thing you could call it. Harry thought. He didn't answer, though.
"But, he's a whiz at Wizard's chess." Fred said. "No-one's been able to beat him for years. He's dead good at strategy."
Why does everyone think that being good at chess makes Ron a good strategist? Harry thought, secretly amused that 'being good at chess' was the only redeeming feature of their youngest male sibling. A game that has very set rules, no room for improvisation and specific moves for each piece... and because he's good at that, that makes him a battle-master. Hah!
"Well... don't get me wrong..." Hermione began delicately. "Chess... while an enjoyable pass-time... it's not exactly going to serve him well in the future." Hermione was secretly amused that Ron's brothers could only come up with one remotely good thing about their brother. And that was pretty naff, too.
Fred and George looked at each other, and shrugged. "It could be worse." They said in unison.
"How?" Harry asked, fearing the answer.
"Well, 'ittle Harrikins," Fred started, smirking at Harry's scowl at the annoying nickname. "Ron's been hearing your story for the last decade." Harry groaned.
"But, our little sister seems to think that you're going to be the perfect husband." George finished.
Harry collapsed onto his back, banging his head against the floor. "Please, tell me she's not some 'Boy-Who-Lived' groupie!"
"Okay."
"We won't tell you."
Harry groaned again, before shooting up, as something George said pierced his consciousness. "Wait a minute... Did you say 'husband'?" Both twins nodded in unison. Harry ignored Hermione's discrete snickering. "This girl has never met me, never seen me, never said a word to me... and she thinks I'm the perfect husband?"
Hermione covered her mouth, before giggling out, "She sounds like that girl from Fatal Attraction."
"Oh, crap, a bunny boiler." Harry said, before flopping back down. Not just a bloody bunny boiler, but a girl who uses love potions on unsuspecting Gryffindors. I am so screwed. He looked over at Hermione. "I want to go home..."
CHAPTER TEN –
An Interlude
Approximately eight weeks into the school year, Dumbledore called a staff meeting. It was routine at the beginning of each term, to ensure that there were no problems with students.
"So, are there any problems we need to go over?" He asked, his grandfatherly persona in place, eyes twinkling furiously.
"Nothing springs to mind, Albus." Minerva said, biting on her lip for a moment, before deciding to go for broke. "Well... there is one student who I feel I should mention."
"Harry Potter." Several other teachers spoke as one.
Dumbledore suppressed a groan. He'd been expecting something like this. After finding out he was famous, he would inevitably become an arrogant idiot. "What about Mr. Potter?" He asked warily.
"Well..." McGonagall began.
"Transfiguration is the most complex of all magical arts." McGonagall said firmly, before changing her desk into a pig, then changing it back. "As such, if anybody feels a need to 'play about' in my lessons, they can leave now. I can assure you, if I catch you not taking this seriously, I will evict you from this class immediately, never to return."Hermione and Harry shared a glance, before turning their attention back to the stern professor.
For the next hour, she lectured on the basic principles of Transfiguration, going into enough detail to make Harry go cross-eyed. A swift whack on the back of his head from Hermione straightened him out, while he looked down at his notes.
Thank god for auto-quills! He thought, as he saw every word she'd said neatly written in front of him, just waiting to be read. Ha! I think not.
At that point, McGonagall began handing out matchsticks, telling the students to begin transfiguring them into needles.
Harry glanced around the room, taking in the other students. For some reason, this class included all four houses, giving Harry a prime view of the Ferret, the Weasel, and what appeared to be Weasel's new sidekicks, Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan.
Smirking to himself, Harry, using wandless magic, ignited Ron's match, causing him to drop it and squeal like a four-year old girl.
God, that never gets old. He thought to himself, glancing at Hermione, who was watching him with a faintly disapproving frown.
"Was that really necessary?" She hissed at him.
Harry thought for a moment. "Was it necessary? No." He said. "But, you forgot the follow-up question: Was it funny?"
Hermione suppressed her smirk, before turning back to her match. Harry decided to mess with the Ferret, igniting his match, before getting on with changing his own.
With a tiny flick of his wand, the match changed into a perfect needle. McGonagall was busy scolding both Weasley and Malfoy, handing out new matches.
Hermione looked over, a frustrated frown on her face at seeing Harry complete the assignment so easily, while she'd only managed to make her match slightly pointy.
Harry caught her look, and smiled at her. "Hermione, what are you doing?" He whispered.
"How'd you do that?" She hissed.
"I'll show you." He took the match out of her hand, waving his wand to 'reset' it back to a plain match.
Over the next ten minutes, Harry explained the secret of Transfiguration to Hermione, who followed with a rapt attention that scared the piss out of him. Unknown to Harry, McGonagall was loitering on the floor in her Animagus form, listening to every word he said.
He finished the explanation, handing the match back to Hermione, while McGonagall scurried away. With a flick of her wand, Hermione's match had changed into a perfect needle.
Harry looked up to see McGonagall stood directly in front of his desk. "That will be five points to Ravenclaw, Miss Granger, for an perfect job at transfiguring your needle." She looked at Harry. "And that will be ten points to Ravenclaw for you, Mr. Potter, for being the first to complete the assignment, and an additional five points for your detailed explanation to Miss Granger."
Harry blinked... then blinked again. An elbow to his ribs, courtesy of the lovely Miss Granger, brought Harry's attention back to the here and now. "Thank you, Professor."
Harry picked up his needle, and started playing, waving his wand. The needle began to grow, both in length and thickness. When it got to be about two metres long, Harry stopped.
"Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, wondering what the hell she'd do with a two metre long sewing needle.
"I thought it'd be good for sports day." Harry said. "Javelin's supposed to be really good for the arm."
"Right." McGonagall said, taking the freaky needle from him, and placing it on her desk.
Dumbledore looked stunned for a moment. "So... he turned a match into a Javelin?" He asked. Even as a Transfiguration Master, he'd be hard pressed to match that. There was only so much you could do with a small match.
"That's not all." McGonagall added. "During every lesson, he completes his work with an ease I'd be barely able to do. At this rate, he'll have completed his NEWTs by the end of his first year."
"I-I had s-something s-s-similar." Quirrell said, stuttering his way through the sentence. "T-throughout my l-lesson, he knew e-e-everything I tried to t-t-teach him. I agree with M-Minerva. He'll be a NEWT student within weeks at t-this rate."
Dumbledore looked at Sprout, who shrugged. "He handles plants like I do, Albus." She said simply.
"Proof enough of near-Mastery level." He said, tipping his hat to Sprout. He looked at his snarky Potions Master. "Severus?"
Snape sneered, before toning down his annoyance. "He's an... adequate brewer." He said.
McGonagall smiled at Flitwick. "Severus, for you, that's positively gushing! He must be good."
"Filius?" Dumbledore asked, trying to keep the meeting on track.
"As good as his mother was during her OWL year." Flitwick said. "He seems to have a natural connection with magic. I do believe that boy could make his Charms do anything he wants."
Hooch spoke up. "During his first flying lesson, he got on a broom, an old Cleansweep Three, in dying need of replacing, and made it perform like a brand new Nimbus, Albus." She smiled at the memory. "Not only that, he took another student up with him, since she was afraid to go on her own. Since then, she's come to me several times for practice."
"We saw them." McGonagall and Flitwick said together. "Coming back from the lake." McGonagall concluded.
"They looked so romantic." Flitwick said dreamily.
Snape snorted, then started coughing. "Please, not more Potter love disasters..." He muttered to himself.
"So, Mr. Potter's adjusting well to life in school." Dumbledore said. General murmurs of agreement were made by the staff members present. "He's not displaying any signs of... Severus, do not answer this... he's not demonstrating any arrogance, or belief that he should be treated differently that other students?"
The group shook their heads, except for Hooch. "Other than what I told you about, Albus. I wouldn't normally allow two first years together on a broom, but he appears to have his father's skill... and you know how good he was."
Flitwick perked up. "As good as his father?" His eyes turned glassy at the prospect of a Potter on his House Quidditch team.
"Better, I'd say." Hooch said, smiling at the Charms Professor's enthusiasm.
"Albus, could we-"
"Yes." Dumbledore interrupted. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of potential Quidditch talent, Filius."
In the Gryffindor dormitories, three young men plotted mischief.
"Why are we doing this again?" Neville asked. "It seems... dishonest."
Ron frowned. "Neville, doesn't it seem odd that the 'Boy-Who-Lived', the saviour of the Wizarding world, is in the house for bookworms? Shouldn't he be here, in Gryffindor? Home of the Brave?"
"He should." The third member of the trio said, his accent slurring his words slightly. "Harry shouldn't be a Ravenclaw. He'll turn out to be just another nerd. We should get him to move in with us."
Neville just shrugged. "Who cares? I mean, he took care of You-Know-Who. What does it matter what house he's in?"
"Well, I don't like him." Seamus said.
"Maybe so," Ron said, "but, you know about the Potters. They were a very wealthy family, and if we make ourselves friends with Harry, we could share that wealth. Plus, there's the fame of being his friends. He'll be in the spotlight a lot while he's here at Hogwarts, and if we're his mates, we can be there, too."
This appealed to Neville's shy nature. "In the spotlight? As his friends?"
"How hard can it be, really?" Ron asked. "I mean, all he does is hang out with that ugly little bushy-haired bookworm. We're way better friends for him."
Seamus and Neville looked at each other and shrugged. "I'm in." Seamus said.
"Me, too." Neville added.
"Shit." Ron looked at his watch. "Come on... we'll be late for Charms."
CHAPTER ELEVEN –
The Troll
The Charms lesson proceeded exactly as Harry remembered. He floated his feather up to the roof, gently aiming his wand to send it around the ceiling.
Hermione quickly followed, before engaging in a brief but silly feather fight in the air.
However, Ron Weasley, prick extraordinaire, was sitting next to Hermione, waving his wand like he was trying to give everyone in the class a cold.
She took pity on him, and told him how to say the incantation.
When the lesson ended, Harry waited for Hermione to pack up her books, return her feather, and head out of the classroom. Into the incident Harry was really hoping to avoid.
"Honestly, that girl!" Ron moaned. "She's a bloody nightmare! 'It's Lev-i-osar'! No wonder she hasn't got any friends!"
Harry turned to look behind him, gaping at Ron incredulously. He turned back to Hermione, only to see the back of her head, as she rushed away from him. "Hermione!" He shouted, but was ignored. Harry dropped his bag, and turned to face Weasley.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" He demanded. "She does have friends! I'm proud to be her friend!"
Ron sneered, looking eerily like Malfoy. "Are you? How... lucky for you! She's just a stupid Mudblood! She shouldn't even be in this school! You really should get some better friends."
Harry saw red, clenching his fist. "She deserves to be here, Weasley. More than you do." He cocked his head. "And by better friends, do you mean yourself?"
Ron nodded. "You've not got anything in common with her. I mean, you're the youngest Quidditch player in a century. You should hang out with the lads, learn Quidditch."
Ron didn't even notice Harry's fist closing on his face, before the redhead was knocked arse over teakettle on the floor.
"Never," Harry's eyes were glowing green, "talk about Hermione Granger again. She's a far better person than you will ever be."
The rest of the first years took a step back. Harry's eyes were actually lit up, like somebody had placed a candle in them, and it was scary. Harry looked around at them, his tone icy cold, and an aura of power flickering around him. "Does anybody else have anything to say about my friend?"
As one, the first years shook their heads, and scurried off to... wherever they were going.
Harry turned back, letting the glow in his eyes fade. Is that all it takes? Bloody special effects? Useless prats. Now... Hermione.
Harry rushed off to the second-floor toilets, where he knew Hermione was hiding. Ignoring etiquette, he opened the door, and walked in, ignoring the squawk from a second-year Hufflepuff, who rushed out of the door.
"Hermione?" He heard a sobbing coming from one of the stalls, and made his way over. "Hermione?" Harry heard her sniffle, as he lowered himself to his knees in front of the door.
"Harry?" She asked tentatively. "What are you doing in here?"
He rolled his eyes. "I came to see if you're okay." He said quietly. "I was worried about you."
She sniffed again. "What if he's right, Harry?" She whispered.
"He said you didn't have any friends, Hermione." Harry whispered back. "And we both know that's wrong. Isn't it?" She didn't say anything, just blew her nose. "Hermione?"
"What if he's right?" She whispered again.
Harry felt his heart drop into his shoes. "I thought we were friends, Hermione." He whispered through the door.
Hermione looked up. "Why, Harry? Why would you want to be my friend? Like he said, I'm just a know-it-all nightmare!"
Harry didn't have to think about his response. "If you are, you're myknow-it-all nightmare. And, I don't think you are a nightmare, or a know-it-all." He sighed. "You're my Hermione, a young lady who loves her studying."
She sniffed again, crying for another reason. "Thank you, Harry."
"Are you gonna come out, now?" He asked softly.
Hermione shook her head, unaware that Harry couldn't see her. "Uh... I need a few minutes, Harry. I'm... I just need to freshen up a bit."
Harry's next words filled her heart, making her blood sing through her veins. "You couldn't be anything less than beautiful, Hermione." He whispered. "I'll wait here for you."
"No, Harry." She replied, blowing her nose again. "You go on down to the feast. I'll meet you down there."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "I really don't mind waiting for you."
"I'm sure. Save me a space?" Hermione asked, feeling better by the moment.
"Don't I always?" He asked, giving off his heart-stopping grin.
"I'll be right down, Harry." Hermione replied. I'll probably scare him to death if I come out looking like this.
Harry nodded, and stood up, wincing as the feeling came back into his legs. "Catch you on the flip side."
The feast was in full swing, hundreds of students laughing, eating and drinking. Overhead, floating candles mixed with pumpkin jack-o-lanterns, giving the whole hall a medieval feel.
This is nice. Harry thought to himself. I've never really enjoyed Halloween. It's a pity Quirrell's letting that troll in, even as we speak.
Harry had loaded up his plate, and another one beside him, but hadn't actually started eating. He had kept the seat to the right of him free, and left the second plate there.
On his left, Terry Boot stopped eating, wondering why Harry hadn't started yet. "Harry?"
Harry looked to his left. "Yeah, Terry?"
"What are you waiting for?" He gestured at the untouched plate.
"Hermione." Harry replied, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.
"Ah." He had seen the confrontation after Charms class, and had been scared witless when he saw Harry's resulting display of power. "Will she be long?"
Harry shook his head tersely. "She's just... freshening up."
"Ah." Terry wisely went back to his food.
Harry checked his watch. It was time. As if on cue, Professor Quirrell rushed into the Great Hall, squealing loudly. "Troll!" He bellowed. "Troll in the Dungeons! Just thought you ought to know..." At that, he passed out, falling forwards.
When you faint, you fall backwards, silly bugger. Harry thought to himself. Around him, students started mewing, making scared noises.
And... cue Dumbledore!
"Silence!" Dumbledore's calm voice cut through the children's wailing like a foghorn. "Prefects, lead your houses back to their dormitories. Teachers, with me... to the Dungeons."
The Ravenclaw prefects stood, but were too late to see Harry running from the Great Hall like a man possessed.
He arrived at the girls' bathroom in record time, having climbed two flights of stairs and run a third of a mile in less than a minute. He wasn't even breathing hard.
He burst into the bathroom, seeing Hermione stood in front of the sinks, finishing washing her face. She saw Harry in the mirror, and spun round. "Harry? What's wrong?"
At that moment, a vile smell came wafting through the open door. Harry looked over his shoulder. Shit! It's blocking the bloody corridor! I was really hoping I wouldn't have to fight it, this time.
"Troll." Harry said, drawing his wand. Hermione looked over his shoulder, and 'eeped', before ducking down behind Harry.
"What are we going to do?" She asked, moving back to one of the stalls.
Harry turned to her, wearing his heart-melting grin. "Stay down. I'll take care of it." Hermione nodded, and stood next to the farthest stall.
Harry put his wand away, and waved his hand in front of his nose, trying to remove the vile stench of the incoming troll.
It lumbered it's way in, roaring a challenge at the little creature stood in front of it. Being a creature of instinct, it raised the club, aiming to squash the little bug.
Harry waited until the last possible moment, before calling all his power into his body. For a few moments, Harry's skin became harder than diamond, and his muscles contained enough power to move the earth out of orbit.
Hermione watched as Harry stood perfectly still. Something inside her told her not to interfere, and to just let Harry take care of her. She knew he wouldn't let her down.
Harry saw the club coming down, and raised his hand, catching the club in mid-swing. The troll looked on stupidly as it's club was stuck. A moment later, it had vanished from it's hand.
Harry threw the club in the air, spinning it so he could grab the handle. As soon as it hit his palm, he grasped it, and swung it at the troll's knees, before swinging it, in a perfect golf arc, into the troll's groin. As he predicted, the troll roared, dropping to it's damaged knees. Harry dropped the club, and closed his eyes, putting all of his power into his legs.
Opening his eyes, he saw the troll roughly level with his head, and lashed out, hitting the creature in the face with a perfect Tornado kick. The troll roared again, this time in agony instead of anger, and smashed into the wall.
Head reeling, the troll straightened up, it's gaze now cross-eyed. Harry took pity, and closed his eyes again, transferring his power from his feet to his fists. He placed his fists together, letting them glow red, before launching a perfect Phoenix punch at the creature, rendering it unconscious.
Harry shook his hand, trying to get the feeling back, and turned to Hermione. She was looking at him in awe, before he turned on his 'aw, shucks' grin. He made his way over to her.
"Are you okay?" He asked, looking her up and down.
"I'm fine..." She replied absently. "Harry... you just knocked out a mountain troll... with your hands."
Harry nodded, distracted by the pain in his right hand. "I know... it hurts, too." He held out his hand. "Shall we go?"
Hermione took his hand without thinking, as the two started to make their way out of the room. "Where are we going? And why aren't we staying here?"
Harry grinned. "One, it stinks in here. Bloody trolls... And we're going to the Common Room. Professor Dumbledore said we all had to go to our Common Rooms while the teachers dealt with the troll."
"But... you dealt with it." Hermione replied, looking confused.
"Well, that wasn't exactly my plan." Harry said, looking around absently. "I figured you were still in the toilets, so I came to get you."
Hermione stopped, pulling on his hand to keep him with her. "You ran through the school... risking meeting a troll... for me?"
Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Of course I did." He answered her, making it sound like the most natural thing in the world. "You're my friend, Hermione. I promised, didn't I, that I wouldn't let you fall?"
She smiled shyly at him, before wrapping him in, what Harry had called in the previous time-line, a Hermi-hug. He hugged her back, holding her tightly. She looked up at him, delicate tears in her eyes. "Yes." She whispered. "You promised."
He leaned down, and kissed the top of her forehead. "Come on. We'd better get moving before the teachers get here."
The two were sitting the Ravenclaw Common Room, hunched next to each other on a small, pale-blue loveseat.
"Why didn't you want the teachers to know who'd done that, Harry?" She asked after a pregnant pause of fifteen minutes.
Harry ran his fingers through his hair, Why does he have to do that? Hermione thought to herself, and looked back at her. "Because, they'll ask questions like 'how did you do it?' and 'why didn't you go back to your common room?'. Plus, it'll single me out for attention. I don't want that. I hate being the bloody 'Boy-Who-Lived'."
She nodded thoughtfully. "I can understand that, I suppose." She grinned at him. "If it helps, I'll always treat you as 'just Harry'."
He looked at her, and grinned his 'heart-stopping' grin, causing her to melt inside. Damn him! "Thanks, Hermione." He leaned closer, resting his forehead on hers, and staring deeply into her eyes. "You really don't know what that means to me."
She chuckled nervously, and looked away. Harry pulled his head back, and slumped backwards into the small couch, Hermione following right behind him.
"So... was the feast any good?" Hermione asked, taking his hand in her own. The action was instinctive and automatic. While she leaned back, she let her eyelids drift down.
Harry squeezed her hand gently, and looked back at her. "Dunno. Didn't eat anything. I was waiting for you."
Her eyes shot open, staring at him incredulously. "What? Why?"
Harry looked at her, smiling warmly at her. "I said I'd wait for you. I did."
"Oh, Harry." Hermione leaned in closer, and rested her head on his shoulder. "You shouldn't have, you know."
"I keep my promises, Hermione." Harry said seriously. "I said I'd wait for you, and I did."
She squeezed his hand, and was about to reply, when the loudspeaker sounded.
"The danger has now passed. Would all students please make their way to the Great Hall." Professor McGonagall's voice sounded throughout the castle.
"Hey, maybe we can get some dinner." Harry said, pulling Hermione to her feet. She laughed softly, following him.
Inside the Great Hall, the plates had been cleaned, and fresh food was waiting for them. Harry made his way to his usual spot on the Ravenclaw table, pulling Hermione down with him.
He quickly loaded up a plate, starving after the fight. He was about to start attacking his meal, when the Headmaster stood up.
Oh, buggering bloody bollocks! He thought savagely. That plate of chicken legs is just calling to me.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As Professor Quirrell announced earlier this evening, a troll did indeed make it's way into the castle. However... we found the troll, unconscious, in the second floor girls' bathroom."
Harry nodded absently, still staring at the chicken legs. They were teasing him now, dripping juices mockingly.
"We," Dumbledore gestured to the teaching staff, "would like to know if anyone has anything they'd like to share with us."
At the Gryffindor table, Ron looked at Neville and Seamus, who both nodded, and stood up.
Hermione poked Harry's ribs, causing him to look sharply at her. "What?" He whispered. He pointed at the teasing chicken legs. "Can't you see, Hermione? They're mocking me! Look at them!" He hissed at her.
She rolled her eyes, and gestured up at Dumbledore. "Harry," She hissed back. "Dumbledore wants to know who knocked the troll out."
Harry rolled his eyes, while waving her comments away with a dismissive wave. "The chicken legs, Hermione! They're teasing me."
"It was us, sir." Ron said proudly. "We went there, 'cause we heard one of the girls was stuck in the bathroom."
Snape snorted into his coffee, inwardly laughing at the thought of three first-years managing to vanquish a mountain troll.
Dumbledore looked down his nose at the three. "You three managed to knock out a mountain troll?" He asked, his Legilimency detecting the lie immediately.
"Yes, sir." Neville bragged proudly.
Hermione hissed at the three, and then turned back to Harry. "Harry, they're stealing credit for what you did!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Let them. If it means I can eat dinner, they're welcome to it."
"No." Hermione said, standing up. She looked at Dumbledore. "Sir, they're lying. It wasn't them. It was Harry."
Hearing his name, he slumped lower in his seat, trying to avoid staring at the chicken. It was still teasing him, damn it! He idly wondered if he could apparate out of the Great Hall. Maybe the Three Broomsticks was still serving dinner...
The three Gryffindor students looked over at Hermione, sneering as one. "Really?" Ron asked arrogantly. "Why hasn't he come forward, then?"
Harry, hearing the stupid Weasel speaking, stood up, his eyes once again glowing with power. "Because, Ronald, some of us aren't glory hounds. I did what was necessary."
Dumbledore frowned at the by-play between the two young men. They were supposed to be best friends. It was part of 'the Plan', that he had thought up ten long years ago. By having Harry aligned with a confirmed light family, it would allow them to ensure Harry remained on the true path, instead of being lured to the Dark.
He cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter, would you please share with us what happened?"
Harry grimaced, as he got up, glared briefly at Hermione for putting him in this bloody mess in the first place, and stomped up to the teachers' table.
Instead of telling them, he raised his wand to his temple, and closed his eyes.
"Exertus Memoria!" From his temple, a large projection rose, showing the sequence of events, from Professor Quirrell running into the Great Hall, to Harry making a dash through the corridors that no other student could match.
When it came to Harry catching the club, everyone gasped in shock. This was a feat that no-one could match, not even the most powerful wizard in the world, Professor Dumbledore.
When Harry knocked the troll out, using a strange kick and a small punch, everyone was stunned. They watched as Harry made his way over to Hermione, before the memory faded.
Harry, without saying another word, made his way back to his place, before Dumbledore's voice stopped him.
"Is there..." He couldn't believe what he had seen. "Is there anything else, Mr. Potter?"
Harry turned back to Dumbledore, and shook his head, before something popped into his mind. "Just this, sir. If anybody, and I mean anybody, touches the chicken legs in front of my plate, I will be very unhappy."
He stomped back to his plate, and lifted the entire platter of chicken legs to in front of him. Around him, the students stared in shock, as he started to eat. A hand crept forward from his right, snagging a chicken leg. He looked up, and saw Hermione staring back at him innocently, a chicken leg held delicately in her hand.
He smiled at her. "Okay... I'll let you." She grinned at him, and took a dainty bite.
At the Head Table, McGonagall shook her head, bringing her thoughts back to the moment. She stood, and cleared her throat. "Mr. Potter."
He rolled his eyes, before standing up, still munching on his chicken leg. "Yes, Professor?"
"That will be one hundred points to Ravenclaw for your outstanding courage and dedication to a friend."
Harry blinked, a bit shocked. Hang on a minute... she only gave me five points the first time round... Huh. "Thank you, Professor."
McGonagall nodded, then turned to the three still-standing boys from her own house. "Mr. Finnegan, Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Weasley. That will be fifty points from Gryffindor for your lying scheme. And one month's detention."
The three boys blanched at being rebuked so harshly in public. Of course, Ron had to open his mouth. "Fifty points, Professor!"
McGonagall's lips thinned to an almost imperceptible white line. "Fifty points each, Mr. Weasley."
With that, the three got murderous glares from the rest of Gryffindor house, the most murderous from Percy, the prefect.
Ooh, boy. There'll be a howler in the morning for you, Ronnie-boy.He thought with malicious glee, sitting down and starting on another chicken leg.
The feast was winding down, as most people had eaten their fill, and were chatting. Except for Harry Potter, who was still going strong. Unlike the rest of the places, there were no platters of food around Harry. He was now starting to look up and down the table, to see what was left.
"Terry!" Harry called out. "Pass us them sausages, will ya?" He looked further down. "Cho, can you send them spuds down here?" He looked down the other side. "Hermione, will you grab them veggies and that jug of gravy? Ooh, Marietta! Can you pass down that Roast Beef?"
Hermione was watching with a morbid curiosity as Harry ate enough for three people. "Harry, how can you still be eating?"
He loaded up his plate again, and started to maul to poor food. "You try knocking out a mountain troll. I had to really speed up my metabolism to get the energy I needed."
Hermione thought it over. "So... you basically burned a large amount of energy punching that troll."
Harry nodded, not daring answering aloud. He remembered some of the verbal beatings he got in the original time-line when he did that. He swallowed noisily. "Yep. And you saw how my hands were glowing when I punched it? My hand was basically loaded with a massive stunning charm. That, combined with knocking out it's teeth, put it down."
Hermione nodded again, her mouth curled into a silent 'Oh'. She reached for another pumpkin pasty, idly chewing. "Harry?"
He swallowed another mouthful of food before looking back at her. "Yes, Hermione?"
She smiled shyly at him. "I didn't thank you."
He smiled at her, causing her pulse to race. "And you'll never have to." He reached out, and squeezed her hand, before grabbing his fork, and demolishing another sausage.
Hermione sat back slightly, and thought about her brief friendship with Harry Potter. In less than two months, he'd wormed his way through her tough mental defence structures, those designed to make sure she didn't get hurt by people, and now lurked there. Damn him. She thought. I was prepared to not have any friends here. I wasn't prepared for a boy to become one of the most important people in my life. Two months! Two bloody months! I took longer than that to like the damn dog! She sighed. Why does he have to be so... so bloody perfect. Damn him!
Harry looked over at Hermione, who was lost in thought. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a bronze Knut. He placed it on the table in front of her, pulling her from her musing.
"What's this for?" She asked, picking up the coin.
From behind them, Harry could hear the vile tones of the Malfoy brat. "Maybe he thinks that's what you're worth, Mudblood!" He hissed.
Harry gave him a gesture with his hand which cast aspersions on Malfoy's self-pleasuring capabilities, before turning to Hermione. "Your thoughts, my dear Hermione."
She looked down, getting the saying. "Oh... Knut for my thoughts. I get it."
He grinned, pulling another Knut from his pocket. "Are you going to make me pay more?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and playfully threw the coin at him. "No. I was just thinking."
Harry winced. "Ooh... that's not good. Should I duck and cover?"
"Prat."
"Yes."
"It's just... you're a great friend, Harry." She said softly. Harry blushed, and threw her the 'aw, shucks' smiled. She softened when she saw him smiling at her. "I mean it." She leaned in closer. "I mean... I've never had friends, before... and... and in less than two months, you're the best friend I could ask for."
Harry smiled warmly, reaching over and taking her hand. "Thank you, Hermione. It's the same with me. Do me a favour?" He asked.
She nodded. "Probably."
"Never change. Always be this Hermione."
She cocked her head. "What do you mean?"
"Always be like this. Don't... don't turn into one of those vapid useless girls." He gestured down the table, where several students were comparing hair and makeup tips. "Always be like you are now."
She smiled shyly. "Well... I can't promise that, Harry." She saw his pout. "But, I'll do my best."
He grinned at her. "That's my girl." His smile froze in place. Did I just say that out loud?
Did he just say I was his girl? Hermione cocked her head. Do I want to be his girl? She looked at his frozen smile. Oh, bugger it, I do! Another thought popped into her mind. That's now... What happens when he grows up? Sod it, I'll worry then. "Okay, Harry."
He said nothing, just smiled at her.