Harry woke up at his routine time the next day. It was the day when he would start his magical education properly, and he was excited. Looking over at the other bed in his room, he saw Terry Boot still fast asleep.
Finishing his morning rituals, he devoted an hour to his Occlumency. It was an art he would never take lightly. Boot was waking up when he finally came out of the trance, and Harry nodded at him.
"Morning, Potter. What are you doing?" the boy asked as he rubbed his eyes. Harry grabbed a book and leaned against the wall.
"Meditating. I'm used to it," he replied as he opened the book. He saw Boot look at him for a few seconds before the boy shrugged and walked over to the bathroom.
Harry was reading through the book when the door to the bathroom opened.
"Whoa!"
Harry's attention was cut off and he looked over to see Boot staring at him with wide eyes.
"What?" asked Harry, confused. Boot pointed to the floor, and Harry looked over to see another book.
"I must've dropped it," Harry muttered as he bent over and picked it up. It was his transfiguration textbook for the third year which he had taken out to read.
"Mate, you banished it!" Boot replied. Harry looked at him with a frown.
"What?"
"You mean you didn't see it? You flicked your wand and that book flew over the edge of your bed, hit this table, and dropped to the floor."
Surprised, Harry looked at his hand which was gripping his wand before he looked at the book once again. He had been reading up on summoning and banishing charms and must have subconsciously started using the spell. Excited, Harry readied himself.
"Could you move to the side?" He asked and placed the book back on the bed. Terry hastened to move. Harry relaxed and recalled everything he had read up so far before flicking his wand. The book sailed across the room and collided with the wall where it landed with a thud. Terry blew an appreciative whistle.
"I had no idea you were already so advanced, Harry. I bet we don't learn this thing for years, and you can already cast these spells silently!"
Harry ignored the gushing wizard and stared at the book before flicking his wand once again. This time, he was trying to summon it toward himself. He smiled when the book hovered over the floor before his eyes widened and he hastily ducked. The book sailed over his head at a furious pace and hit the wall behind him.
"Merlin! You okay?" Terry asked with wide eyes.
"Uh… yeah," Harry muttered as he picked the book back up and smiled to himself.
"Need a little practice, eh?" Terry remarked with a grin, staring at the wizard who looked at him and shrugged.
"I'll be going for breakfast. See you," Harry said, and grabbing his bad, he shoved both the books inside before walking out.
-Break-
Harry had been given the class schedules at breakfast, and as stated, he walked inside the Transfiguration classroom for his first lesson. He was the first to the class and promptly took a seat at the back of the classroom. With nothing much to do, he started to look around.
It was a neatly decorated classroom, and Harry gathered that McGonagall was a very proper witch. Not even a bench was out of alignment. There was nothing of note apart from a cat that was perched on the table. Harry took one look at it and shrugged.
Slowly, students from all four houses started filing in, and Harry nodded as Neville came over with Susan and Hannah, all of whom took their seats beside him. However, there was no sign of the professor. Finally, the bell chimed to signal the beginning of the class, and a frantic redheaded wizard stumbled in. Everyone turned to stare at him, who noticed the looks he was getting and flushed.
Not even a second had passed when the cat that had been perched on the teacher's desk jumped and morphed into none other than the professor herself. Everyone stared, flabbergasted. However, none was as shocked as the redhead who stood frozen, his face white as a sheet.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, Mr Weasley. Ensure you are on time from now on," McGonagall said curtly.
Weasley muttered something under his breath as he walked towards the back, and his eyes fell on Harry who was staring at the professor. He promptly turned around and took his seat far away.
Harry didn't notice anything. He was staring intensely at McGonagall, and his mind was working in overdrive, replaying that scene over and over. There was magic that let you turn into an animal. Harry was more than a little intrigued.
He watched as the professor took her place at the podium and began the lecture. She told them about the intricate branch of magic and the dangers thereof, before demonstrating a few advanced transfigurations such as morphing her chair into a table before turning it into a sword and back into the chair. She even told them about Conjuration, an art that enabled someone to create objects out of thin air. Once the basic explanation was done, she waved her wand and Harry watched as a small matchbox appeared on each desk.
"All of you have a matchbox in front of you. I want you to transfigure them into needles. Instructions are on the board here. Do as many as you can in the class and take the matchbox with you. Your assignment shall be to transfigure as many, and preferably all hundred matchsticks inside the box into needles. You may begin now," the professor instructed.
Harry was way ahead of his peers by now, and he had already tried most of the spells in the final few days he had been in the Leaky Cauldron. Transfiguration of this level was of no challenge to him.
He slid the box open, picked up a matchstick, and looked at it before he dropped it on the table and tapped his wand against it. The matchstick transformed into a stainless-steel needle. He tapped his wand against it once again and the transfiguration reversed. Satisfied, he looked over and started to help the Puffs out.
"While it is admirable to help your fellow students out, I would prefer if you didn't ignore your work, Mr. Potter," a stern voice sounded to the side, and Harry looked at the professor who was staring critically at his matchbox which he had closed only moments before.
Harry simply tapped his wand on the matchbox in response and looked at the professor expectantly. McGonagall frowned but picked the box up and slid it open. Her eyes widened when she saw perfectly transfigured needles shining inside the box. To the side, Harry saw Neville and the girls also staring at the box in wonder.
"My…" McGonagall whispered, "In all my years of teaching, I've never seen someone display such admirable skills in the first class. Even your father, Mr. Potter, who was considered a prodigy, didn't show such promise. Take twenty points for Ravenclaw for a brilliant display of cluster transfiguration, a topic we cover in third year, and another twenty for silent casting."
Everyone overheard what McGonagall said and they started whispering. Harry smirked to himself.
'Yes. You lot better know who the most superior is. Soon, I'll surpass them all,' Harry thought to himself. Looking at the professor, he smiled.
"I practiced it and managed quickly. Since then, I've been reading ahead and looking into more advanced pieces of magic," Harry replied. McGonagall looked at him with pride.
"And I commend you for it. Keep it up, Mr. Potter. I shall have higher than normal expectations of you from now on."
Harry nodded as the professor walked off, and turned to look at the Puffs who were staring at him in surprise.
"Merlin, Harry!" Neville exclaimed in a whisper. "I can't believe you managed all of this in only a week."
Harry chuckled and went back to help them out.
The lesson finished shortly, and almost all the students had some sort of success. However, apart from him, only a few students showed some concrete progress. The three Puffs alongside him managed to turn a few matchsticks into needles, and a girl named Granger turned one successfully.
"You coming, Harry?" Neville asked as he walked out of the bench with Susan and Hannah who also looked at him. Harry nodded.
"Just have something to discuss with the professor. I'll join you soon," Harry replied. The trio nodded and walked out of the classroom. Harry looked ahead at the professor and walked over.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" The aged witch asked.
"Professor, how did you morph into a cat?" He asked inquisitively. McGonagall smiled.
"I am an animagus, Mr. Potter. You learn about them in the third year."
Harry recalled reading the term in the third-year textbook. However, he had not looked much into it. He nodded.
"Can I do it as well?"
McGonagall sat down and stared at him. "It is heartening to see a student striving to learn so further ahead, but I would suggest you to take things slow, Mr. Potter. Becoming an animagus is a very complex and dare I say, risky endeavor. I would strongly advise you not to proceed without the instructions of a professional."
Harry nodded absently. McGonagall noted the look on his face and sighed.
"I can offer you a compromise if you are willing to listen."
Harry looked at her in interest, and McGonagall continued, "I will test you at the end of the year, and if I am satisfied with your progress, I shall guide you along the way to becoming an animagus. Do we have an accord?"
Eyes gleaming in satisfaction, Harry nodded, and soon he was on his way to the Charms corridor for his second lesson.
As McGonagall stared at his retreating back, she couldn't help but sigh.
'So much of Lily and James in him. That's a good thing but comes with its set of challenges as well. I hope there are not many headaches in the future.'
-Break-
The Charms class was relatively tame. Professor Flitwick was a jovial wizard who seemed to have a giddy aneurysm when he called out his name during the attendance. They were made to practice the basic Lumos charm, something Harry had been using silently for almost a week now.
His silent spellcasting and control over the spell earned him another twenty points from the cheery professor, who marveled about how he had inherited his mother's affinity for the subject. Again, students started to whisper about it, and now Harry was starting to get a little irritated. He was already quite popular around school and had been stared at quite a bit since the sorting. All this showing off was bound to make it even worse.
However, regarding this, he was fine. Being known for his abilities and his achievements was something he was going to strive for, and if it came with some attention from the student body, then he would simply need to take it in stride.
That didn't mean it was not a bother though. Harry sighed and smiled as he demonstrated the spell once again.
Although this time, the majority of students managed to get the hang of the spell. It was not complicated at all, and he didn't even bother with helping others out since they were progressing on their own.
As the class ended, Harry walked out with Neville, Susan, and Hannah. Their next class was Defense against Dark Arts which was taught by Professor Quirrell, and they started to walk towards the staircase.
"How did you do all of it?" A demanding female voice came from behind, and they turned around. It was the Granger girl, Harry recognized. She had managed to morph a matchstick into a needle.
"Pardon?" He asked. The others looked on.
"That transfiguration and silently using the magic. How did you do it all?" She demanded once again, looking at him with furrowed brows. Harry stared at her for a moment.
"How do you see?" He asked instead. The girl blinked.
"What?"
"How. Do. You. See?" He enunciated each syllable slowly. The girl bristled at being treated like a child and stormed off without another glance. Confused, Harry turned to look at the others.
"Did I say something rude?" He asked.
Neville shrugged as the girls giggled before they resumed their walk to the Defense classroom.
-Break-
"Merlin, I can't breathe," Neville muttered as he pinched his nose. Harry was already holding his handkerchief to his nose, trying to breathe through it. The other students were no better, each looking blearily at the stuttering professor who couldn't string two words together properly.
"Who hired this stupid fuck to teach?" Harry asked instead, glaring at the turban-wearing moron while staving off another jolt of headache, wincing.
It had begun a few minutes after he had entered the classroom and seemed hellbent on torturing him. His scar felt like it was on fire, and his head throbbed right underneath it. His Occlumency was working smoothly, and he had not felt any intrusion, so it was not a mental attack. However, something was wrong, and it didn't take a genius to deduce that Quirrell was somehow the cause. After all, only he was the new factor around him.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief when the class ended and he was the first to dash out of the classroom. Neville and the others found him leaning a fair distance away from the classroom against the wall, rubbing his head.
"You okay, Harry?" Susan asked with a worried frown, and Harry smiled at her.
"Yeah. Just a little headache, don't worry."
The redhead nodded.
"Let's go to the Great Hall. I'm hungry," Hannah complained.
"Always the glutton, aren't you?" Susan teased. Hannah stuck her tongue out maturely as the boys chuckled.
"Alright. Let's go," Neville smiled, and they made their way to the Great Hall.
-Break-
Their remaining two lessons on the first day passed with little fanfare, at least if one discounted how Professor Sprout couldn't help but gush at Neville and Hannah for their green thumbs. The subject didn't interest Harry at all. Sure, one could use magical plantation in potions or to lay traps, however, that wasn't enough to pique his interest in the subject.
The less he said about History, the better it was. The class was a total disaster, and if the course was not boring enough, the ghost teaching the subject certainly made up for any dearth. Most of the students were sleeping in the class, and the ghost didn't even notice. Harry scoffed. He had given up on the subject already, resolving to read on his own and purely for grades. There was no way he was going to waste his time. Instead, he started to practice the spells from the third-year Charms and Transfiguration textbooks, to the surprise of a few around him who had managed to stay awake. Soon, even they started to transfigure their matchsticks into needles, opting to use the time for some beneficial purpose for once.
The final class of the day was Astronomy and it was the same as Herbology. Although slightly interesting, Harry failed to see how it could be useful to him.
Overall, the first day of classes was enough to help him prepare his plan going forward. Transfiguration and Charms would be informative and he would be practicing ahead while taking whatever the professors taught and incorporating that information into his already developing repertoire of knowledge. DADA was a foregone conclusion, and it was a shame that such an interesting and strong subject would be unexploited like that. However, he had no intention of letting it go to waste. He was already on par in the subject with the third years, and he would be practicing the spells on his own. The only thing missing would be a teacher's input, but he was hopeful that he could ask McGonagall or Flitwick if he wanted to know anything and they would help him out. If not, then he had himself to rely on – nothing he hadn't been doing all his life.
Herbology, History, and Astronomy were grade-only subjects for him, and he would prepare accordingly. That left Potions. He had already heard rumors about Professor Snape, and how he was a biased bastard who loathed teaching and favored students from Slytherin. Harry wondered why such a man was hired to teach anyway.
They had their first lesson the next day, and he hoped the teacher was at least a little bit competent. The subject seemed interesting enough. It would be a shame if it was wasted as well.
-Break-
Potions was the last class the next day, and they walked down the stairs toward the dungeons where the classroom was located. Harry was already feeling pessimistic about this.
They entered the classroom, being among the first ones, and took their seats in the middle. The was no sign of Snape as they went about preparing their setup for whatever potion they might have to brew.
Right at the chime of the bell the door shut with a thud and Snape emerged from the storage to the side. Clad in black robes which billowed behind him, the man looked like a vampire.
"Wands away, parchments and quills out," the man instructed firmly as he walked over to the podium and stared down at them. The students hastened to follow the command as Snape started what seemed like a well-rehearsed speech.
"You are here to learn the subtle art of potion-making," he began, voice barely above a whisper, but they heard every bit of it. Harry had to agree that the man knew how to command absolute control over a class without any effort.
"As there is very little wand-waving here, most of you with hardly believe this is magic. I do not expect you to understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron and its beatific fumes, nor the subtle power of fluid that courses through a human's veins, enthralling the mind, emmeshing the senses…" The man trailed off, looking at them with a keen gaze. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – provided that you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
A penetrating silence followed his speech before Snape cut it off himself.
"Potter!" the professor shouted, and Harry looked him in the eye. "What is the antidote for Draught of Living Death?"
Harry frowned. That was a sixth-year potion, and the only reason he knew the answer was that he had chanced a look at the text and had luckily opened the page. He answered without missing a beat. "Wiggenweld Potion."
Snape stared at him for a moment, his eyes full of suspicion. Harry held his gaze.
"Indeed. What color is the Draught of Peace?"
This one was easy. He had read the second-year texts already.
"Turquoise, professor."
He couldn't help it, and it seemed Snape had paid attention to the tone as well, as his eyes hardened.
"What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane, Potter?"
Another one, this time from the third-year texts. Harry didn't know what the man's beef with him was. He had singled him out and then deliberately thrown questions from higher years. Harry resolved to find out. However, for now, he answered easily, having read the topic already.
"There is no difference. They are also known by the name Aconite."
The man fixed him with a penetrating stare before he looked over at the class that had been staring at the two of them with wide eyes. Each student was sitting ramrod straight.
"Well? Why are you all not writing this down?" Snape demanded, and the students moved as one. Harry stared at the man stonily, who glanced at him but didn't say anything.
"Here is the potion you shall be preparing and its steps," Snape said as he waved his wand and they saw letters appear on the blackboard at the front right beside the podium. "Get to work."
It was a rather simple potion, as was expected for the first class. A simple cure for boils. Harry went to work and was done with no issues. As they had been instructed, he poured a vial and put a stopper on it before placing it inside the cabinet at the side of his table, where it vanished. He saw it appear on Snape's desk, who picked it up and inspected it, before looking over at him critically.
"Acceptable," the man commented sternly, before dismissing him. Harry didn't need to be told twice, and quickly put his articles in his bag and walked out of the classroom at a brisk pace.
He didn't know what Snape's issue with him was, but he'd be damned if he didn't get to the bottom of the matter. There was no way he would be enduring his crap for seven years. He had enough of this kind of treatment at the orphanage. He didn't want it anymore.
Unbeknownst to him, his rage at the reminder of his past abuse caused his emerald eyes to shine.
"Harry?" A voice behind him prompted him to take a few deep breaths. His breathing leveled and he turned around to see Neville, Susan, and Hannah staring at him with grins on their faces.
"How did you know all that?" Hannah asked excitedly. Neville and Susan nodded.
"I read," he stated plainly as he started to walk, leaving the others to follow.
"Merlin, I can't explain how that felt. I was so terrified. I didn't know any of those answers, and kept praying that he didn't do anything to you," Susan said with a trembling smile. Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes.
"I bet you'd have vomited if you were in his place," Hannah teased her friend. Susan huffed.
"As if you wouldn't, Miss Glutton!"
"Hey!"
Harry shook his head, leaving the two girls to their bickering. Classes for the day had ended, and he couldn't wait to be back in his bed.
-Break-
The first week of classes went similarly, and Harry had finalized his plan for how he would proceed. As decided earlier, he was practicing his magic independently from classes, easily taking care of both classwork and homework. His professors, the only two who mattered to him in all honesty, were all very satisfied and often gave him second and even third-year assignments once he was done with his task for the day. Harry couldn't complain. He was progressing at a rapid pace.
He had observed a few students giving him nasty looks for what he thought they perceived as preferential treatment, particularly the Granger girl. Harry always ignored them. Ron Weasley had never approached him since their encounter on the train, and he was so involved with his studies and practice that he didn't even notice it until Neville brought it up during dinner the previous night. Harry couldn't care less.
Currently, he was in search of a place where he could practice his offensive spells in safety and solitude. Charms and Transfiguration were easy to do in the confines of his dormitory, however, most of the spells from DADA were not. He had asked the female prefect who had escorted them to the Ravenclaw Tower the first night, Penelope, about it, and she had suggested the abandoned classrooms on the fifth floor, so that's where he went for practice.
He looked into various classrooms, discarding them for one reason or another before he finally decided on one and entered. Locking and privacy charms went up in an instant before he started to clean the room as best as he could.
A few Scourgify spells later Harry looked around and nodded. This would be his haven now – a place where he would spend most of his time. Pulling his textbook and his notes out, Harry looked over before he readied himself and took a deep breath. It was time to go all out.
While Harry was practicing his offensive spells for the first time, a meeting was taking place in the staff room. The headmaster held this meeting every year wherein he would discuss how things were going during the new academic year and whether any student required any special attention, the first years in particular. His many duties kept him busy, which prevented him from being involved with the students at the ground level. Thus, it was customary for him to rely on the first-hand experience of his staff when it came to the students of Hogwarts.
Currently, Dumbledore was sitting at the head of the table with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick on either side of him. The other two heads sat beside their colleagues and were followed by all other members of the staff.
"Thank you for joining me," the headmaster began with a smile. "First of all, are there any pressing matters we need to address regarding students not in their first year?"
McGonagall sighed. "The Weasley Twins, Albus. It's been a week and they are already causing havoc. Only yesterday I had to summon them to my office after they poured sticky goo over a few students and caused them to miss their classes."
Snape sneered at the mention of the troublesome duo. "A hundred-point deduction should drive the point home."
McGonagall bristled silently but didn't say anything.
"Now Severus," Dumbledore interjected with a gentle smile, "there should be no need to be so drastic. I am sure they will tone it down after Professor McGonagall has another talk with them."
Snape didn't bother to respond.
Dumbledore continued, "Is there anything else?"
He smiled when he received a series of headshakes in response.
"That is good to hear. So let us discuss the first-year students. Are there any concerns?"
"Miss Granger," McGonagall sighed. "The girl has a brilliant mind, but her attitude leaves much to be desired. It seems to have isolated her from her peers. She spends the entire day alone, doing nothing but reading."
"I concur," Flitwick added. "We have seen isolation among muggleborns previously, but not to this extent. I can count on one hand how many times I've seen her properly talk to someone."
Dumbledore stroked his beard with a small frown.
"I am sure you have a few ideas for such a situation?" He asked McGonagall, who nodded with a sigh. Dumbledore smiled. "Than I entrust the matter to you. I shall look into it if your methods don't bring fruits."
McGonagall nodded.
"Is there any other concern we should discuss?"
"I feel we should discuss the dilemma that Mr. Potter poses, Albus," Flitwick interjected with a frown, and Dumbledore tensed slightly. He saw McGonagall and surprisingly, Snape give a nod.
"Is there something wrong with Mr. Potter?"
"I won't say it's something wrong, but it is a challenge, a very welcome one," McGonagall said with a small smile. "Mr. Potter is probably the most remarkable first year student I've seen in all my years as an instructor here. I am not exaggerating when I say that he could pass his third-year exams with straight Os. The boy, Albus… He managed a successful cluster transfiguration in my first class, and silently at that. I have never seen even an OWL student manage that."
Flitwick took it over from there. "Mr. Potter also has remarkable control over his magic. He was able to manipulate the brightness of his Lumos charm from dim to the highest with precise increments as per my instruction. Such precision and control is almost unheard of among the students. He has instinctual grasp on magic, Albus. He has never used an incantation in my class, and the only time he did that was when I asked him to perform a fourth-year charm yesterday. Even then, he managed to do it silently after only two tries."
Mixed feelings coursed through Dumbledore at their comments. On one hand, he couldn't help but feel pride in Harry, while a small part of him grew even more apprehensive. Such power, such control, in the circumstances Harry had grown up in. The cards were too similar, and Dumbledore couldn't help it.
"What about you, Severus?" He asked instead, gazing at his professor of Potions with inquisitive eyes.
"The boy is an… adequate brewer. He has studied… much ahead."
Dumbledore nodded. That was as high a praise as Severus could reward anyone with.
"And the other subjects?" He asked, looking at the remaining professors.
"Mr. Potter is a diligent student, but I have not observed anything too extreme in him," Professor Sprout remarked, earning a nod of agreement from Professor Sinistra and a shaky one from the silent Professor Quirrell as well.
"What dilemma do you face concerning him then?" He asked finally, looking at the former three professors. McGonagall took the lead once again.
"It feels we are limiting him with his current coursework. He does not need to attend our first-year classes since he is so advanced already."
"I agree," Flitwick nodded. Snape stayed silent.
Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. "We cannot allow him to jump grades. That would hamper his social development. He needs to stay in the company of witches and wizards of his age, not his seniors."
McGonagall nodded. "Currently, we are allowing him to practice spells he has read up on his own from third and fourth-year texts. We clarify any issues he might have."
"I believe that is the correct course of action right now," Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "This way, he is with his peers and has access to personalized input from you. That is better than being in a senior class. Talking about his peers, how is his social circle?"
"Well, although Mr. Potter does not seem to be close with anyone from Ravenclaw, I believe he has made good friends with three Hufflepuff students. Mr. Longbottom, Miss Bones and Miss Abbott. The four always sit together in classes and during meals."
Dumbledore stroked his beard. Three students from upstanding wizarding families. That was good. He nodded at Filius who had spoken.
"We should continue with this then?" McGonagall asked.
Dumbledore smiled. "You can make tasks more challenging for him to keep him occupied for longer intervals. I am sure you can figure out how to."
McGonagall shared a look with Flitwick, who nodded.
Soon, the meeting dispersed until only two men remained sitting at the table.
"What do you think of him, Severus?"
"The boy is arrogant, headmaster. Of that there is no doubt. But unlike his father, he keeps his arrogance in check."
"Quite a positive remark from you," said Dumbledore, chuckling. Severus frowned.
"I agree with the others. The boy is a natural at application of magic, and his mind is not lacking either. Never has a first year brewed a more flawless batch of potions in the first week. The boy is improving at a fast pace, headmaster, and even I am reluctant to hold him back."
Dumbledore was struck with mixed feelings once again. His mind was filled with various scenarios concerning the boy.
"Nurture his abilities like Minerva and Filius then," he replied in the end. "And keep me abreast of his progress."
Snape bowed his head in acceptance and Dumbledore nodded. The Potions master walked out of the staff room with his cloak billowing behind him.
Alone at last, Dumbledore absently stroked his beard as he sat thoughtfully. Harry Potter was an intriguing young wizard, to say the least. Albus was sure his upbringing had not been all roses and sunshine, and he was inclined to believe that the boy was ambitious. People with his abilities always were. If Severus was to be believed, the boy had confidence that bordered on arrogance. That might be troubling in the future if left unchecked.
Hopefully, the boy will mature correctly in the years ahead, unlike a certain someone who had all the abilities to become a great wizard but had let himself fall into a rotten path of narcissism and evil.
He wondered if he would've given any other student this much thought. Certainly not. Numerous students had walked these corridors, capable and with the ambition of being the greatest wizard or witch ever, and only he had taken the road that he shouldn't have.
Dumbledore sighed. So far, Harry had shown no signs to make him worry. As long as he didn't follow in Tom's footsteps, he had nothing to worry about either.
TBC
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