Chapter 4
The breath left Harry's lungs in a whoosh, his eyes flying open in pain as he struggled against the sudden weight crushing his chest. All remnants of sleep fled as he stared incredulously at Warthog. His familiar was perched on his chest, nose to nose with him and staring imperiously.
"I want to wear the pink one," she announced.
Harry wheezed, his face turning red as he fought to return air to his starving lungs. Having fifty kilograms of needle pointed death balanced on his ribcage was not particularly helpful toward that goal.
The puma watched him, waiting for a response. When one wasn't forthcoming, she shifted her weight and batted him in the face softly with a paw.
"I said I want to wear the pink one."
"Air!" Harry choked out.
Warthog huffed and jumped off him, reclining regally at the end of his bed.
"Was that really necessary?" Harry grumbled once he finished wheezing and clutching his chest in pain.
"Yes. I want to wear the pink one. Besides, it's time to wake up. Everyone else is already awake, and you don't want to give them the opportunity to prank you." She flicked her tail lazily.
Harry grudgingly nodded in agreement. "You have a point, but next time do you think you could wake me without pain?"
"Probably, but that wouldn't be nearly as entertaining."
Harry shook his head and quickly checked to make sure his glamour was still in place before opening his green curtains and climbing out of bed.
Flinching when his feet touched the cold stone floor, he made a mental note to get a rug for next to his bed; he should probably dig his slippers out of his trunk too.
"You're up, good!" Draco called. "You seemed fairly out of it last night, so I'd imagine you don't really remember everyone's names. Did you want to be introduced again?"
Harry adopted his shy persona, fidgeting with the hem of his nightshirt.
"Would that be alright? I'm sorry I don't really remember. I was really shocked about my sorting, you know?"
Draco nodded sympathetically. "Understandable really. Everyone thought you'd be a Gryffindor for sure. You're going to be in for a rough time with the rest of the school now, but Slytherins stick together, and we look after our own. You'll be alright. Now, you met Crabbe, Goyle and myself on the train," the two hefty boys nodded silently, before going back to digging through their trunks. "Over there, you have Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini. There's three girls in our year, but we can introduce you later."
Harry nodded a greeting, then turned to his trunk.
"Warthog, you said you wanted the pink one, right?" He called, rummaging through the box.
"Yes." She responded, abandoning her comfortable spot hidden on his still mostly curtained bed and hopping down to walk over and sit next to him.
The other boys in the room screamed slightly, jumping away and huddling at the far side of the room.
"What the hell is that?" Yelped Nott.
Harry looked up, blinking in confusion. "This is Warthog, she's my familiar."
"You can't have a bloody Mountain Lion at Hogwarts! There's got a be a rule about it!" Nott was beginning to hyperventilate.
Harry frowned. "There isn't. I read the handbook, charter, and all active decrees. Besides, she's a cat; we're allowed to have a cat, owl, or toad. And she's bonded, so as long as I'm not being attacked, it's not like she'll eat any of the students or house elves or anything."
Warthog eyed Nott, and licked her muzzle. "I might…"
Harry shot her an amused glance.
Draco was huddled in the corner behind everyone, his hand clapped tightly over his mouth as he tried to stifle his laughter. He knew he had to pretend to have never met Harry and Warthog before, but honestly, he was in danger of cracking a rib if he had to hold it in much longer. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his features and stepped forward.
"Can I pat her?"
Harry shrugged, glancing at Warthog for approval.
The massive cat stood, prowling over to Draco and butting her head under his hand, purring when he scratched behind her ears.
"She likes you," Harry commented, finally retrieving the requested pink collar. "Warthog? Come on, let's get you dressed."
The other boys watched with dropped jaws as Warthog gave Draco's hand an affectionate lick and padded over to Harry, standing proudly while he fastened a bright pink collar studded with stones around her neck. He settled it carefully, making sure there wasn't any bunched fur and that it was sitting comfortably.
"Are those real pink diamonds?" Blaise gaped.
Harry nodded. "Of course, she would never accept fake ones. Though I honestly think that the blue one with sapphires suits her better; they match her eyes perfectly." He turned, pulling his own clothes out, setting them on the bed and picking up his toiletries kit. "Am I ok to use the bathroom, or did someone else want to go first?" He looked at his shocked roommates, waiting for a response.
"It's designed for group use, we don't need a schedule or anything," Draco informed him.
Harry nodded, quickly ducking in to attend to his morning ablutions and visit the loo. Now that he thought about it, he realised he hadn't even pissed or cleaned his teeth last night before crawling into the surprisingly comfortable bed. He wrinkled his nose as he relieved himself. Gross. He showered quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist and standing at the sink to clean his teeth and do his hair. He sighed in irritation. The glamour was flawless, even accounting for touch, and he missed his longer hair even though he knew technically it was still there. Getting an idea, he stuck his head out into the dorm.
"Hey Draco, you said something last night about maybe helping with my hair? Is that something we can do now, or do we need potions or something?"
Draco looked up, grinning at the wild mass on top of his best friends head.
"We can do it now. I know a spell to make it grow out a bit. You can use a potion, but you can't control the length as you go. You don't want yours that much longer, so the spell should work fine."
Harry nodded, and Draco walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.
The other Slytherins rolled their eyes, knowing that Draco wanted Harry's new look to be some grand reveal.
Draco smiled giddily as he followed Harry to the sinks, turning to lean against it with his arms folded.
"So how do you want to do this? Is your glamour alterable?"
Harry nodded. "I had the Hounds make each part separately, so I can alter bits and pieces as needed, gradually removing them all. I actually have about twenty layered on me at the moment.
Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Clever. I wouldn't have thought of that."
Harry shrugged, pulling his Holly wand from its holster on his forearm. He wanted to use his real wand, but it had been off lately, making him really work for what he asked it to do. It was almost like it was sulking since he'd bought the Holly wand, even though he knew such a thing was impossible. He was going to go back to Gregorovitch and have him look it over at the first opportunity.
Flicking the wand carefully, Harry dispelled the glamour over his hair, sighing in relief as his longer locks came into view. Brushing them out quickly, he glanced at the blond next to him.
"I could use a trim, if you're willing. Alex usually does it for me, but I've been stuck with Hagrid for a month. I figure you can't butcher it too badly; your sense of pureblood aesthetic won't let you."
Draco lit up, quickly drawing his own wand. Alex had secretly taught him how to do this for just such an occurrence, knowing that Harry liked to be properly groomed at all times. "Laminae pilum," he carefully incanted. Grabbing Harry's comb, he quickly moved around his friend, drawing his wand over the ends of the dark hair to trim and shape it. When he was finished, it sat just below Harry's shoulders as usual, falling in gentle waves. He stepped back, eyeing it critically with his lips pursed.
"Have you ever considered growing it even longer? It would look really striking if it was long. You could braid it."
Harry glanced over his shoulder before pulling it back into its usual smooth ponytail.
"I tried that. It looks awesome, but it's not practical; gives people too much to grab onto in a fight. If it didn't look completely ridiculous on me I'd just shave my head. Unfortunately I have a head like a cue ball."
Draco snorted, picturing it. "Yeah, you'd look like a boiled egg."
Harry nodded with a grin. "It's not flattering. So this length is a compromise."
"Fair enough," the blond shrugged. "It looks great anyway, and the length is quite common amongst purebloods."
"Shall we? I still need to get dressed."
The two of them exited, Draco making a big show of presenting the 'new and improved' Harry. The other boys cheered and whistled, making a big fuss and pretending to swoon at how handsome the Hero of the Wizarding World was.
Harry rolled his eyes and quickly pulled on his uniform, blessing Draco for 'convincing' him to get the higher quality one. He'd need to be careful until he could have Alex and Marcel add his standard protection runes to it, but paranoia was a way of life for him, he wasn't overly concerned about it.
He cursed when he realised he still couldn't knot his tie properly. Huffing in annoyance, he ignored Warthog's sniggers in his mind, staring into the mirror and beginning again. Honestly, he could learn nearly anything with ease, so why couldn't he - blasted thing!
Draco saw him struggling and grinned, batting his hands out of the way and expertly tying a St Andrews Knot. He knew Harry preferred a Café Knot, but it just didn't look right with a striped tie.
"I'll sit down with you later and teach you how to do this yourself. You'll be wearing ties every day, you need to know how." He smirked at his friend, knowing that Harry was silently plotting how to hurt him for that comment.
"Thanks," Harry smiled, teeth gritted and eyes glittering with promised revenge.
Giving a final check in the mirror, Harry grabbed his satchel and followed his dorm mates into the common room.
As Harry entered the Great Hall with Draco and Warthog at his sides, silence fell across the room. The boy ignored it, carrying on to his seat and sitting down, Draco moving to his right and Warthog jumping up to sit at his left. Crabbe and Goyle settled themselves across from Draco, and Blaise and Theo sat opposite Harry and his familiar.
Harry served himself some fruit salad, toast, and coffee, pretending he didn't notice the frowns from the older students at his choice of drink. Nodding a thank you as Draco passed his timetable to him, he ignored the rolls of parchment being handed over his head and focused on his breakfast.
Warthog purred happily when a plate of raw meat chunks appeared before her, and began eating.
The rest of the Slytherins stared, some in fascination, most in revulsion. To their credit, they controlled it well, and if one hadn't been used to reading almost expressionless faces it would be very difficult to tell.
"Mr Potter!" A stern voice called out, causing Harry to turn around to see Professor McGonagall and a greasy haired gentleman with a hooked nose and sallow skin standing at her shoulder. "What is the meaning of this?"
Harry scrunched his face in confusion, glancing back at his plate. "Uh, breakfast? Did I do it wrong?"
McGonagall's face tightened.
"I was referring to the animal beside you, Mr Potter."
Harry glanced next to him and his confused look deepened.
"Um, that's Draco?"
"The other side, Mr Potter! You cannot have a Mountain Lion at Hogwarts, and you certainly cannot bring it into the Great Hall and let it sit and eat with the students!"
Harry tilted his head, eyes wide and innocent.
"I read all of the Hogwarts Charter and active decrees. It makes no mention of size or breed restriction on familiars or pets, provided they can be adequately controlled by the student bringing them. The Hogwarts Acceptance Letter advises you can bring a cat, owl, or toad. Mountain Lions are part of the Felidae family, therefore, she's a cat. In addition to that, she's my bonded familiar, so I'm therefore able to control her and she's no threat to the local populace unless she or I are being threatened."
McGonagall frowned, and the man beside her looked ready to spit nails as he glared at the boy.
"I will be confirming your claim, and should it prove false, you will need to make arrangements for her immediate removal. However, that does not address her eating in the Great Hall!"
Harry cast a sideways glance at Warthog, noting that she was finished gulping down her meal and was listening intently even as she cleaned between the pads on her paw.
Looking back at McGonagall, he shrugged. "You're a cat animagus, right Professor?"
McGonagall looked slightly surprised. "I am, yes."
Harry pressed on before she could work up some steam again. "So you know what cats are like. I can make sure she doesn't eat the students or school animals, but if she wants to eat with us, nothing is going to dissuade her." He blinked up at her, leaning against Warthogs shoulder and letting her nuzzle the top of his head affectionately. He looked up at the teachers, waiting patiently.
McGonagall studied him for a moment before looking at Warthog.
Harry could see her working through what argument she would use, so he turned up the puppy dog eyes another notch.
The Deputy Headmistress narrowed her eyes in response.
"Those eyes will not work on me, Mr Potter, so don't bother."
The greasy haired man finally stepped forward with a sneer, glaring at the boy like a serpent eyeing its prey.
"Mr Potter, the Deputy Headmistress has given you an edict. You would do well to heed it, lest you find yourself losing House Points before any of your classmates have the chance to earn some."
Warthog eyed the man and drew her lips back slightly, a warning growl rumbling in her chest as she stepped one foot over Harry, forcing him into an awkward ball between her forelegs. His indignant squawk was ignored as the puma stared down the Potions Master.
"Professor, please back up?" Harry called through the fabric bunching in front of his face. "She thinks you're threatening me."
"Stupid human, trying to intimidate us! As if we would be afraid of a grease soaked string bean that smells like offal and fermented plants! I've eaten Chihuahua's that were more frightening!"
Harry was glad that his face was thoroughly covered as he choked down a laugh.
The man stared at Warthog challengingly, causing her to draw her lips back further and release a snarl. His thin lips pressed together tightly into a bloodless line.
The entire hall had fallen silent in horrified anticipation, waiting to see how the scene would play out.
"Professor, please?" Harry tried again.
"Professor Snape, perhaps it is better to do as he asks in this instance." Professor McGonagall said quietly, resting a hand lightly on his arm and drawing him back beside her.
"Mr Potter," Snape paused dramatically. "This does not end here."
The teachers swept off, no doubt to complain to the Headmaster, and Warthog relaxed, dipping her head to lick Harry's hair briefly before releasing him from his undignified position.
"Was that really necessary?" Harry asked dryly, fixing his hair and straightening his clothes.
"No, but it was funny," Warthog replied smugly.
"Oh yes, you're a regular comedian," Harry huffed and pushed his breakfast away.
"What was that?" Blaise asked warily. "You really shouldn't antagonise the teachers. Slytherins get a rough go at the best of times with everyone except Professor Snape, and it looks like even he has it in for you."
Harry scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I don't do well with people threatening what I consider mine. To be honest, I'm not great with authority at the best of times, but I tend to respond the same way they treat me. I'm sorry if I've caused you guys trouble…" He trailed off, twisting his fingers in his lap.
Warthog nuzzled his neck, purring as she breathed warm air against his skin.
"You're such a fabulist. I love that about you."
Harry giggled, pushing her away gently and glanced at Draco, who took his cue perfectly.
The blond looked at his new timetable. "We have Charms first, then History of Magic and Potions. Is everyone done? I don't want to be late."
The other Slytherins hastily swallowed their last mouthfuls, before standing and collecting their bags, following the prefect who had agreed to lead them to class.
Harry settled into his seat, looking around the classroom. According to Draco, the newest batch of students was so small that the Headmaster had decided to combine all the Houses as an experiment. Although it made for a larger class, it would relieve some of the pressure on the Professors schedule. Harry mused that the class was now about the same as an average group in a muggle school, and he really couldn't see what the big deal was about it. Oh well. Hopefully it would make things a little easier for him to network.
He observed the teacher, Professor Flitwick, as the educator scaled a pile of books and looked over the students. Flitwick was a tiny little thing, with neatly combed brown hair that parted down the middle, and a thick moustache that reminded Harry uncomfortably of Vernon, for all that it was better maintained and nowhere near as walrus-like.
The young crime lord tuned back in when he heard his name called, followed by an excited squeak and a series of thuds as Flitwick fell off his books, sending several tumbling down after him. Sighing, Harry felt his esteem for the teacher drop to near negative numbers. Pity, from what the profile Alex had given him stated, the man was a world class Duelling Champion, holding onto his title for several years before choosing not to compete any longer.
Roll call finished, the diminutive professor began covering the very basics of wand work, explaining some of the theory and history of charms, and common examples of spells in that class. He demonstrated the Levitation Charm, which wowed the muggleborn and half-blood students, and had most of the purebloods sagging in boredom.
Harry pasted an attentive expression on his face, absently jotting down notes, and let his mind drift slightly. He was leagues ahead of even his pureblood counterparts, thanks to his ability to learn things quickly, but he had to admit to being a little sketchy on the history and some of the theory. He'd focused primarily on practical skills, and he was regretting that now. It was hell being able to perform everything up to early fifth year and a quite a bit outside the curriculum, but not be able to answer basic questions about what year a specific spell was created and why it worked like it did.
The class finally ended, and not a moment too soon in Harrys opinion. Gathering up his notes and placing them carefully in his bag, he followed his peers out of the room and through several corridors to the History of Magic classroom. Set amphitheatre style, it still had ample room for the entirety of the Hogwarts first year class with room left over. Frowning, Harry speculated on the cause for such a dramatic drop in student numbers, before shaking his head and focusing on the lesson. It wasn't important, and he didn't really care enough to have one of his people look into it.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the Professor being a ghost, before remembering what Alex's file said. Apparently the ghost had been teaching the exact same lecture every day since he died, and even before that fixated heavily on the Goblin Rebellions to the exclusion of other historical events. He watched the bushy haired girl - Granger - industriously taking notes and shook his head. He pulled his textbook out and began reading through it, jotting down his own notes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco doing the same, the other Slytherins following his example. A handful of Ravenclaws frowned at them, before turning back and trying to outdo Granger in the amount of notes they could take. Discretely rolling his eyes, he returned to his own work; revision really, since Mama Andrews had explored history thoroughly during their lessons, using examples from historical events and culture to explain the origins of various nuances of wizarding etiquette, and why things were done the way they were. Satisfied that he would pass this class easily, he used the time to observe the students in the other houses, and try to work out who to approach first.
Weasley was out of course, he couldn't tolerate the brown nosing little brat. Granger might prove useful as far as research and general knowledge, but from what he could see she was buried so far in a book she was oblivious to how obnoxious she was about it. Still, she could prove useful if he put the work into her.
He paused when he got to Longbottom, looking at the tubby boy thoughtfully. The boy came from prime stock, and what happened to his parents was truly a shame. His timid demeanour would make him a target for bullying though, if he wasn't enduring it already. That said, with his bloodlines, he would be an absolute powerhouse in both magical ability and political sway when he reached his majority. It was odd that he was so nervous though. Perhaps he was just that shy, but it didn't seem like something so trivial. He reminded Harry of a kicked dog, not a weak one. He made a mental note to approach the boy as soon as he could arrange, and to have Sergei look into his home life. Longbottom could prove to be a valuable resource in time, and it would be a tragedy to allow him to be wasted.
His attention was drawn to the Patil twins. They were from a pureblood Indian family, their father working as a liaison for an import/export company specialising in antiques and rare objects. The twins had been placed in different houses, one in Gryffindor, the other in Ravenclaw. The Gryffindor twin was giggling with a blonde haired girl that Harry couldn't identify by sight, paying no attention to the teacher, and too much to the boys in the class. Harry placed her low on the list of people to network with, though he decided to keep an eye on her to see if it was a front. The Ravenclaw twin was hard at work, focusing exclusively on the textbook unlike most of her housemates. Apparently sensing his gaze, she glanced up and locked eyes with him, raising a challenging eyebrow. Harry smiled politely and offered a respectful nod before breaking eye contact and continuing to observe the class.
By the time the period ended, he had put together a list of people he would be approaching or investigating further, and had filled a good three feet of parchment with tightly written notes.
Draco shoved his shoulder lightly.
"You doing alright? I know it can be a bit intimidating, especially for a muggle raised." He didn't bother lowering his voice, drawing the attention of several said muggle raised. Ignoring the dirty looks he was getting, he watched Harry expectantly.
"Um, yeah, it is a bit, but I think I'll adjust alright. I got some books on etiquette and stuff, and I figure I'll work through those so I can assimilate better. I think my biggest challenge will be navigating the castle!"
There were some titters of amusement from passing older students, but most of the first years nodded in glum agreement.
"It wouldn't be so bad if we had a map or something, but I've heard some of the classrooms move themselves, and the staircases make mapping out a proper route difficult." Harry sighed.
The other students nodded again, even as they began walking as a group towards the dungeons. Luckily the Slytherins knew the way there, and so they led the herd.
They congregated outside the closed door, automatically separating into their respective houses. Harry watched as Weasley teamed up with two other boys, named Finnigan and Thomas apparently, and started teasing Neville. He'd copied Harry's example in History and just read his text, and combined with his knowledge of Charms theory, it supposedly meant that he was trying to be a Ravenclaw.
Harry could see the timid boy wilting under the 'good natured ribbing' he was getting, and decided it was a good opportunity to lay some groundwork. Discretely, he nudged Draco to draw his attention to the situation.
Draco pouted slightly, but catching the hardening look in Harry's eyes, he lifted his chin and stepped forward.
"What's the matter, Weasley? Didn't you pay attention in your lessons at home? Everyone who grew up in a Wizarding household gets taught this stuff before school. Not to mention that everyone knows that Binns repeats the same handful of lectures over and over, so if you want to actually pass you have to study on your own. With so many older siblings, I'd have thought you knew that."
Granger and many of the Ravenclaws gaped, horrified that such an educational travesty would occur long enough to be an institutionalized quirk.
Weasley's face turned as red as his hair, and he clenched his fists at his side.
"Shut up, Malfoy! Nobody cares what you think!" He turned to give Harry a spiteful look. "And you, Slytherin scum! What happened to not wanting to be an embarrassment to your family? I bet if they were alive they'd be so ashamed they'd disown you!"
Harry looked back blandly. "In order for you to insult me, I would first have to value your opinion; which I don't."
"What do you mean? What kind of teacher doesn't actually teach his subject?" Granger finally asked, distraught.
"A dead one, who wasn't even particularly good to begin with," Draco responded dryly.
"Oi!" Ron shouted. "Don't you talk to her!"
Harry tuned out at that point, confident in Draco's ability to keep up the distraction as long as needed.
Neville was following the exchange with wide eyes.
"Hey, Longbottom, Draco and I were thinking of starting a study group. Would you like to join us?" Harry asked quietly.
"Oh, I-I don't know," the boy stuttered.
Harry smiled comfortingly, still keeping his voice quiet while Draco kept the redhead distracted.
"Your call. You're welcome to join us, and bring anyone else you think would take it seriously. I'm sure everyone in Gryffindor is really nice, but it doesn't seem like the sort of group that will let you study quietly in the common room. I'd like to invite some people from other houses too, but I don't know who yet. If you think of someone, will you let me know?"
Neville looked shocked, but nodded hesitantly.
"Thanks," Harry beamed. "We'll be meeting Wednesdays and Fridays in the library after dinner for now, but we might adjust it as needed in the future. I hope to see you there!"
He rejoined his House, just in time for the classroom door to fly open, and the hook nosed man from that morning to loom over them. Professor Snape, Harry remembered, not missing the venomous look sent his way.
"In," he snarled.
The students filed past him quietly, the vast majority completely cowed by the intimidating man. Harry and the other Slytherins merely nodded respectfully and took their seats.
The door slammed shut behind them, ringing in the silence of the classroom. Even Weasley and his cohorts weren't game enough to talk.
He swept down the aisle and to the front of the class, robes billowing dramatically.
'I have got to learn how to do that,' Harry thought to himself in amusement. He could see the rest of the Slytherins thinking the same.
Snape began with roll call, pausing at Harry's name. He seemed to struggle for a moment, before moving on without comment.
Harry sighed to himself. Snape was going to be a problem, he could see it already. His mind began whirring with plans and contingencies, even as he paid attention; Potions was not the sort of class in which to let your attention wander, even without a teacher like Snape.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death," he paused, cold black eyes sweeping the room disdainfully. "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
The room remained deathly silent, though Harry could see Granger and several Ravenclaws practically vibrating with the need to prove themselves to the acerbic man.
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" He ignored Granger's hand shooting up, focusing intently on his chosen target.
Harry scrunched his face, looking like he was thinking hard. "Um… I think I read something about that; it reminded me of a muggle fairy tale. Sleeping Beauty? Oh! The Draft of the Living Death!"
Snape's expression soured.
"Alright, where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"
Harry felt a surge of irritation. Snape's school yard bully routine was basic enough to be insulting. He knew perfectly well that they were harvested from the stomach of a goat, but a slow calming breath let him regain control of his temper.
"I don't know what that is sir, but I'm guessing it's something important if you're asking about it. Would there be one in the cupboard? Or a first aid kit?"
The teacher sneered. "Technically correct, though not the answer I was looking for. Did you really think you could get away with not opening your textbook before class? Let's try again. What is the difference between monkshood and wolf's bane?"
'They're the same plant, you overgrown bat,' Harry growled mentally. 'But ok, let's let the baby have its rattle.'
"I don't know, Sir," Harry responded dully.
Granger was practically jumping out of her seat in her efforts to be noticed, her hand waving frantically in the air.
Snape continued ignoring her.
"Clearly, fame isn't everything," he smirked. "Mr Potter was correct; when powdered root of asphodel is added to an infusion of wormwood, you get a draft so powerful it is called the Draft of the Living Death. A bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat, and is often included in first aid kits due to its use in countering nearly all known poisons." He paused to look mockingly at Harry. "And finally, monkshood and wolf's bane are the same plant, also known as aconite." His gaze swept the room. "Why are you not writing this down?"
There was a flurry of activity as parchment, quills and ink were pulled from bags, students scrambling to get the notes down.
Snape glared around the classroom, sighing in disgust.
The rest of the class progressed much the same way, Snape barking questions at some hapless student and sneering at their lack of knowledge before rattling off the answers and basic related information faster than the children could write.
When the period finally ended, even the Slytherins heaved a sigh of relief, subtly stretching cramped hands. They gathered their belongings, and stood to leave, eager to relax for the rest of the afternoon.
"Mr Potter, stay behind," Snape demanded.
Draco paused, glancing between the professor and Harry.
"Want me to wait for you?"
Harry shook his head.
"Thanks, but I'll be ok. I remember the way to the Common Room from here."
The blond nodded reluctantly and left, the rest of the Slytherins falling into place behind him like good little ducklings.
Waiting until the last student had exited, Snape flicked his wand, the door shutting and locking, privacy charms flicking up a moment later.
"I was nearly impressed, Mr Potter." Snape sat in the chair behind his desk, leaning back comfortably and watching his prey. "Your acting was superb, but you gave yourself away much too early."
Harry's eyes widened.
"Sir?"
"For someone who has known of the Wizarding World for only a month - a month spent in an isolated safe house with a mostly uneducated games keeper and basic textbooks for information, I might add - you certainly have a lot of knowledge you shouldn't have encountered yet. Your little display this morning might have fooled the majority of the people in this castle, but I can assure you that it doesn't fool me."
Harry thought for a moment, before sighing and relaxing into his usual behaviour. There was nothing for it, he wouldn't get much past the sharp eyed man. He made a mental note to review his file; of all the teachers he had met so far, only Snape would cause him any sort of challenge.
"You're right, and it was foolish of me to forget that you have similar talents to myself. I won't be so arrogant again."
Snape's eyes narrowed.
"Similar talents?"
Harry smirked bitterly. "You know your magic super brain? Well, I have a magic super brain too. Yay," he gave a lacklustre cheer before sobering. "My adopted father rescued me from the Dursleys. He had me tutored for the last couple of years, but he's the suspicious sort. He speculated that there was some sort of reason for me to be left there with no check-ups or visits from my magical guardian, who we later confirmed was Dumbledore. So in an attempt to see if there was anything to be concerned about, we had the Dursley's pretend I never left."
The boy watched Snape closely. He had a good poker face, but Harry was used to reading Sergei and Mr South; in comparison, the Potions Master was an open book. He clearly hadn't known that Harry had lived with the Dursley's, and something about that knowledge shocked him greatly.
"Interesting," Snape allowed. "What's to stop me from reporting all this to Dumbledore right now? You've taken quite the risk in telling me this."
Harry scoffed. "Hardly. This is all information that's publicly available if you know where to look."
Snape tilted his head slightly in agreement. "I see. So, your," his lip curled, "magic super brain. I know what it takes to have such a thing occur. When did it manifest?"
"When I was very young. Maybe, three-ish? A little earlier? I know it was fully developed by the time I was five." Harry shrugged.
"Eidetic memory?"
"Sadly, no. While I do have excellent retention, I'm not that good. I process patterns in information, and absorb practical skills in particular. Reading or watching doesn't matter, I can apply it almost instantly, and it becomes muscle memory within a handful of repetitions."
Snape watched him thoughtfully. "You knew all the answers to my questions."
Harry couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Yes, though I'm inclined to quibble over your answer to the final one about aconite. Aconitum, also known as aconite, monkshood, wolf's bane, leopard's bane, mousebane, women's bane, devil's helmet, Queen of all Poisons, or blue rocket, is a genus of over 250 species of flowering plants belonging to the family Ranunculaceae. Given that those common names are often given to any variety of Aconitum, you really should have been more specific." He paused, crossing an arm across his chest and tapping a finger thoughtfully against his lips. "That said, that particular subtlety would have gone over the head of the majority of the students, so I suppose I can't fault you for it; though I do believe your oversimplification will cause problems later on." Harry paused, looking thoughtful. "I did mean to ask, is there a reason why you don't have a book on basic ingredient preparation and terminology included in the required texts? I personally found The Beginner Potioneer's Lexicon by Arturious Pidge an excellent source when I was just starting out."
Snape raised a condescending eyebrow.
"By the time a student reaches my classroom, they already know the relevant terms. Why would I waste everyone's time and money by demanding they acquire a text they don't need?"
Harry blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing.
"With all due respect, Sir, a pureblood and possibly a studious half-blood might be familiar with the relevant terms, but most muggle raised wouldn't have a clue. Unless their parents had them attend cooking classes, it's unlikely they would know the difference between many of the different methods required. Slicing and julienne, for example. I did the bulk of the cooking for the Dursley's between ages four and nine, and even I didn't really know the difference."
"And why would you care if a few students don't take the time to source extra material if they don't know it?"
"Because I'd rather not have to deal with cauldrons exploding all over me when I'm trying to work? Not to mention that their accidents could contaminate my own work, which is completely unacceptable." Harry's lip curled in disgust at the thought. "Morons like Weasley probably wouldn't put the effort in even if you did recommend it, but there are a few like Longbottom that want to do well and will put the work in, they just lack the confidence to ask for clarification. Speaking of Longbottom, what do you know about him? Any idea what his home life is like?"
Snape narrowed his eyes, incensed. "Mr Potter, do not make the mistake of thinking I am one of your fans that will fall at your feet and grant you anything you wish. We are not friends, our similar mental abilities do not make us comrades of any sort, and frankly I find your arrogance repugnant. Not only did you have the gall to question my teaching after only one day, but you demand private information on another student! If you wish to know about Longbottoms private life you will have to ask him yourself. Even if I was permitted to do so, I would not give you access to such potentially sensitive data. Now get out before I assign you detention."
Harry blanked his face, nodding. "You're right; I apologise. If you'll excuse me, I have homework to do."
Turning on his heel, he strode through the door, pausing only long enough for Snape to dismiss the charms and unlock it. As he headed towards the Common Room, he couldn't help but curse himself soundly for making so many mistakes over the course of the day. If Snape could see through him, it was entirely possible that Dumbledore or one of his spies might too.
Harry lay in bed, Warthog pressed tightly against him as he cuddled up to her. He'd closed his curtains and cast silencing charms to keep his conversation with his familiar private, since it was the closest he could get to being alone with her at the moment. Despite her snarky attitude and general mischievousness, he knew that she was possibly the only creature in existence that he could trust to never betray him, and she wouldn't judge him for relaxing enough to act like the child he actually was.
"So, how was your day?" He asked quietly, basking in her warmth and the vibrations from her purring as he draped an arm over her shoulders, burying his face into the fur near her throat.
"Interesting. I found a lot of hidden passages that I'll show you, and I made friends with the Caretaker's kneazle, Mrs Norris." Warthog said, grooming his hair for a moment before ceasing at his irritable grunt. Sighing, she rested her head on top of his, staring blankly at the green curtains surrounding them. "There are a lot of animals here, and animals that aren't really animals."
"You mean Animagi? Yeah, I'd imagine there would be a few. I know Professor McGonagall is a tabby cat with markings around her eyes that look like spectacles." He lay quietly in the dark for a few moments. "I'm surprised you made friends with Mrs Norris, though. You usually hate other animals, kneazles especially."
The puma huffed slightly, but didn't disagree. "I know. But she's just as bitchy as I am, and she makes me laugh; her commentary on the people in the castle is quite witty."
Harry smiled, fingers flexing slowly as he patted his companion.
"I'm glad you made a friend here. I was worried you'd be lonely since I can't bring you everywhere with me."
"I'm fine, Cub; don't worry about me. What about you? You were quite distressed when you returned from classes. Did something happen?" She nuzzled him, sensing his need for comfort and a little mothering. In all honesty, she liked looking after her human cub, so it was no hardship for her.
The boy winced, pressing closer. "You could say that. I fucked up, Warthog. Badly. Snape made me, and I had to answer some awkward questions before I managed to distract him, but he'll be watching me really closely from now on. I need to figure out a way to win him over or everything I'm working for will be ruined. I," he paused, his throat thick. "I'm not sure what to do. He's not like everyone else. He's like me, but he has a lot more experience than I do." Harry was trembling, clutching at the thick fur under his fingers.
"Shhhh, easy, Cub; just sleep on it, you'll figure it out. You don't have to do this alone. I'm here, and if it's too big of a problem for us to handle, we can contact Alex and Sergei. Which reminds me, I found a couple of tunnels that I think lead out of the school. We should check them out so you can sneak out and oversee your empire. But for now, you should sleep. You may be a big criminal badass, but you're still only eleven and you've had a big day."
Harry took a deep breath, forcing his muscles to relax. Warthog was right, there was no point stressing himself about it right now. As he let her purring lull him to sleep, he couldn't help but be grateful to the big cat. With her around, he felt safer, and the loneliness that had plagued him since his birthday didn't seem so overwhelming. That said, he was looking forward to seeing his team again; they would no doubt have a lot to discuss, what with him being away for the last month, but even that could wait until he'd seen his boy and spent some time with him.
His last thought before he fell asleep was how much he missed his Connor, and his stupid auburn corkscrew hair.