Knock, knock.
"Come in," came a stern voice.
Getting the professor's permission, Harry pushed the door open and walked inside the classroom.
The sight that greeted him was the same as always.
A large, square room with high windows that let in a generous amount of light, and walls adorned with various medical illustrations of both magical and mundane creatures.
"I apologise for my tardiness professor," he simply said.
He wasn't surprised that every head turned back to look at him, nor was he bothered. He had long since grown accustomed to being stared.
'They say that man is a creature who can get used to anything. I suppose there's some truth to that,' he mused as he moved to the last row of desks.
His eleven-year-old self could never hope to walk around with his head held high and feeling unbothered by the looks his peers were sending him.
'Ah. I was wrong, some stares do bother me,' he thought as he looked at his two best friends; they were sitting next to each other.
Hermione sported an almost horrified look as if she couldn't begin to understand how or why Harry had missed their previous class and was late to the current one.
'To be fair it was History… with Binns… She was probably the only one who noticed my absence since everyone else must have been dozing off.'
On the other hand, his best mate's —Ron's— eyes held a newfound maliciousness that put him on guard. His lips formed an off-putting smirk and he was looking at Professor McGonagall expectantly.
'What the fuck is wrong with him?' he considered exasperated.
"And may you tell us what was the reason for your unpunctuality, Mr Potter?" she asked in her ever stern voice.
"I was otherwise preoccupied, professor. Since I've been made a competitor of a death tournament without my consent, I've been quite busy," he answered, trying hard not to imitate his inner Snape and lash at her.
At the moment, he wasn't very fond of authority figures.
His previous responsibilities and even worries seemed dull in contrast to his current desire of staying alive for the year.
'Merlin, even Professor McGonagall and her class don't seem all that important anymore. Damn, I have to survive this year…'
Ron snorted at his words while Hermione let out a quiet shriek. Whether that was because of the danger he was in or the way he talked back to the professor, he didn't know.
"Humph," snorted Professor McGonagall.
Her eyebrows scrunched as she opened her mouth, preparing to give Harry what would no doubt be a dressing down of a lifetime... However, against all odds, she took a deep breath and schooled her features.
"You are right Mr. Potter and I hope to see a big difference in class as you now seem to understand this," she said softly, dare he imagine.
"However, I suggest that next time you watch your tone, Mr Potter," she finished without losing a beat.
McGonagall's eyes left Harry as she turned to face the rest of the class.
"What are all looking at? Back to your assignments," she commanded and was about to turn around when her eye caught something or rather someone.
"Mr. Thomas, did you not hear what I said? Stop gawking at Mr. Potter and get to work. That Hedgehog won't turn into a pincushion by itself," she said, pointing at Deans' desk.
Harry, once again, couldn't help but admire Professor McGonagall's control of her classroom.
As no one wanted the professor to single them out like Dean, they all went to work.
Harry looked down at his desk where his own little hedgehog was patiently waiting to get experimented on.
'Poor guy,' he thought before looking up and scanning the board.
After reading the instructions the professor had written, he got to work.
"Erinaceus pin repono," Harry intoned.
Like most of his first attempts, nothing happened. Sighing, he went to try again, this time trying to implement Salazar's few teachings.
[BREAK]
"That went way better than usual," Harry concluded out loud.
The transfiguration class had just ended and he was making his way out of the classroom. By the time they finished, he easily managed to perfectly transform his hedgehog into a pincushion.
"Harry wait up," someone called him from behind.
Harry took three long breaths while mentally counting to three and turned around, coming face to face with a flushed Hermione.
"Where have you been? I didn't see you in our common room at the weekend," she demanded.
Harry was about to open his mouth and grace Hermione with an answer before abruptly stopping.
"Let's take a walk," he replied, nudging his head at something behind her.
The only reason he was unbothered by her overbearing attitude was that he knew she meant well. That he was also long since used it, went without saying.
Hermione turned back to see what her friend pointed at.
Everyone's eyes were on them, even the professor's, and they were listening in their talk.
Caught off guard by Hermione's sudden turn, no one managed to take their eyes off them in time. Instead, most of their classmates comically looked elsewhere with the smartest ones initialising conversations with their friends.
"Okay," came Hermione's meek reply. It wasn't pleasant to be stared at by the rest of her class.
With Harry leading the way, they were soon walking side by side on the Hogwarts grounds.
"To answer your first question, I've been busy trying to come up with a way of surviving the tournament," he suddenly said, getting a surprised squeak from her.
"But I didn't see you in the library either. If you were there, I'd know," she quickly responded.
"I did think of going to the library but I needed some time away from the staring and the insults everyone seems to be throwing at me lately. Bloody hell, I've eavesdropped a first-year talking behind my back," he sadly informed her.
"Oh Harry… You should have come to me, to us," she commented, before engulfing him in a bone-crushing hug.
"Come on Hermione. You know that's not true. Ron practically hates the ground I walk on and he probably thinks of me as high as he does about Malfoy," he remarked, silently enjoying his friend's warmth.
"You should have come to me then! You know that I believed you when you said that you didn't put your name in the goblet," she stated.
"I know Mione," he simply replied.
"Then why?" she mumbled, a little afraid of the answer.
'Does he not trust me anymore?' she worried.
"Sigh. There are multiple reasons for that but the first and foremost is your relationship with Ron. Hermione, I know that you like him… I've seen how you look at him and we both know it's not the same way you look at me. If you help me, you'll go against Ron's views, making him angry and god knows what else. I didn't want to put you in a position where you had to choose between your two best friends, one of them being your crush," he uttered, gobsmacking Hermione.
'He knows. HE KNOWS!' she panicked, getting as red as the hair of the aforementioned boy.
After a good while, Hermione managed to come back to her senses, albeit still sporting a slight blush.
"Thank you Harry for taking my feelings into consideration and not making me choose between my two best friends," she started and Harry could feel that she really was grateful.
She grabbed his hand to stop him from walking away and looked him in the eye.
"But that's my choice to make, and I choose to stand by you. If Ronald doesn't want to understand this, then let him. I can't and won't leave you facing all this alone. We are best friends after all," she declared.
The squeezing of his hand, the intensity of her voice and the look in her eyes made Harry believe her.
She was his friend and had yet to let him down.
She didn't know but her words warmed Harry as few things ever did before. A prime example of that was Sirius' offer to live with him, and he knew for sure that he could use the memory to fuel a Patronus.
Harry was almost never comfortable with physical contact and definitely never the one to initiate it, but he knew that he just had to hug his friend.
He opened his arms, closed their distance and hugged her.
"Thank you," his voice cracked, unable to contain his emotions.
(Last edit: 16/07/2024)