The Road Not Taken: Chapter Five
Chapter Four
See Master Post for details.
The Road Not Taken: Chapter Five
“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.
“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” Professor McGonagall looked much the same as the last time Harry had seen her. She seemed so tall, he realized, to his eleven-year-old self. Her hair was still dark, not streaked with white as it had become at the end of the war with Voldemort. Years of having her as his teacher, and as his Head of House, made it possible for him to see through the stern mask she had adopted. She did it every year, he remembered. James had been petrified of her. Harry had to blink fast and look down.
They shuffled after McGonagall into the entrance hall. The vast space was lit by flaming torches along the wall. The moving staircases were still as they made their way to a closed door to the right. He could hear the roar of voices even through the thick wood. They were ushered past the main entrance into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They had to crowd into the space; Draco and Hermione were shoved in next to him. A good elbow to Draco’s side got the blond to be silent. Glaring, but silent.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. Your house will be like your family within Hogwarts; you will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.
“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”
Harry had to bite his lip to hide his smile. The first year’s speech hadn’t changed a bit.
“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting,” her gaze swept over the crowd. Harry saw her linger on Ron and Dean. “I shall return when we are ready for you,” she said. “Please wait quietly.” She left the chamber with a swish of her robes.
“How do they sort us into the houses?” Hermione nudged Harry. “Do you think we’ll have to take a test? I’ve not been able to read all our books yet!”
“We don’t have to take a test, stupid,” Draco snorted.
“Don’t call me stupid!”
“You’re being stupid.”
“Then how are we sorted, mister know-it-all?”
“It’s a ceremony,” Draco rolled his eyes. “You mu-Muggles are so weird.”
“Enough,” Harry cut in before they could start shouting. Again.
“Harry!” Neville had shoved his way through the crowd. “There you are.”
“Neville,” Harry grinned at him. “Still have Trevor?”
“Right here,” Neville patted his pocket. There was a distinct toad-shaped bulge.
"You have a toad?” Draco wrinkled his nose.
“My Great-Uncle Algie gave him to me,” Neville put a protective hand over his pocket.
“A toad.”
“There is nothing wrong with a toad,” Hermione snapped.
“Except its distinct inability to fly, deliver letters, packages or anything else remotely useful,” Draco rolled his eyes.
Harry had to bite back a laugh. There, right there, was the cutting humor Harry had grown fond of later in life. As an adult, Draco had the skill of withering humor down pat - Harry had seen the blond in the halls of the Ministry ripping down his political opponents with relish, all the while making the crowd around them howl with laughter. Harry had not always agreed with Draco’s tactics - and whom he verbally attacked in public - but Harry had to admit that the man had had talent with words.
“But I like Trevor,” Neville said.
“Well, then, good for you,” Draco poked Harry’s side. “You don’t think toads are useful, do you?”
“Toads are useful,” Harry shot him a look. “Just like cats and kneazles and owls and everything else that can be used as familiars. They all have their strengths and their weaknesses.” He caught Hermione’s appraising look and winced. I probably shouldn’t have said all that.
Draco snorted. “Oh, be logical then.”
“Thank you, I shall.”
“What’s a kneazle?” Hermione asked.
Harry jumped when several kids began to scream. He whirled, hand going for his wand, heart thumping in his ears. People had screamed like that when - when…
“Harry?” Draco touched his arm. Harry flinched away.
“What?”
“It’s just the ghosts,” Draco frowned, reaching for Harry’s arm. “You look awful.”
“It was just a start.”
“You’re not sickly, are you?” Draco pulled away.
“He’s not sick,” Hermione snapped.
“I’m fine,” Harry said. “Look,” he pointed. Ghosts had streamed in through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another with hardly a glance at the first years. The familiar argument about Peeves washed over Harry’s ears. He struggled to tame the rush of adrenaline that had spiked through his body.
“The ceremony is about to begin,” Professor McGonagall’s voice made them all turn. The older witch raised her eyebrows at them. “Form a line and follow me.”
Harry ended up first of his little knot, behind Dean. Ron was a few bodies ahead of Harry. Draco had elbowed Neville aside for the spot behind Harry. Neville and then Hermione had formed the rest of their part of the line.
McGonagall led them into the Great Hall. Like the first time Harry had seen it, his breath caught in the back of his throat. The four long tables were filled with hundreds of students. Above them hung a forest of lit candles. Above that was the ceiling, a field of twinkling stars.
“It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History,” Hermione’s loud whisper carried to his ear.
Harry dragged his attention back to where Professor McGonagall had placed the familiar stool and Sorting Hat. It twitched, coming to life amid the gasps of the first years. Then it began to sing. Harry had forgotten about the song. He bit down hard on his lip. The Hat can see into my thoughts, he wiped sweaty palms off on his robes. Draco had edged up to him again.
“We have to put that thing on?” The blond sounded horrified.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, a long roll of parchment in her hands. “When I call your name, you will put on the Hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”
Harry’s attention wandered up to the head table as the list of students was read out. Dumbledore looked serene, eyes hidden behind his half-moon glasses, fingers tangled in his beard. Quirrell was there, but Harry cut his gaze away before his scar could twinge. Snape still sat next to Quirrell, as greasy as ever, dark hair long and stringy and -
Merlin, Harry blinked, peering at the Potions Master. He - Snape looks so young.
The humor wasn’t lost on him.
Harry watched as Hermione jammed the Hat on her head. Of course, I was almost of age with the man when I - when it all…Harry forced his gaze to the ground. The git loved Mum, he reminded himself. And Mum - Mum was his friend. For a long time, before he was a bloody idiot. There had to have been something good in him, once, right?
He snorted, shaking his head at Draco when the blond looked his way.
The Sorting went as Harry remembered. Hermione went to Gryffindor, as did Neville. Malfoy didn’t swagger his way up to the Hat this time, though, and the Hat sat for a moment on his head before calling out, “Slytherin!” Draco shot Harry a triumphant look, which puzzled him. Then, McGonagall read out, “Potter, Harry!”
Harry stepped forward as whispers broke out over the hall. He tuned them out as he settled onto the stool, the Hat slipping down over his eyes.
“Well, my, my,” said a familiar voice in his ear. “You are full of surprises, Mr. Potter.”
Harry took a deep breath. I need to be in Gryffindor, he thought at the Hat. You can see my memories and know why.
“Time travel,” the Hat sounded gleeful. “By my brim, of all the things I’ve lived to see. But, oh, my, oh my,” the Hat’s tone went soft. “I…see. Yes, Mr. Potter. I do see.”
Then you’ll put me in Gryffindor. And you won’t tell Dumbledore? That had been one of his main concerns. Harry loved the old wizard like a grandfather, but he knew Dumbledore’s ways. The old wizard believed what he was doing was for the best of the wizarding world. If he believed Harry was going to cause a time paradox, what wouldn’t Dumbledore do in his belief of what was right? Love for Harry or no, Dumbledore would Obliviate Harry at best. Harry didn’t want to consider anything worse.
“You have a great many good points, Mr. Potter,” the Hat said. “Yes, I believe you are right. Dumbledore is a great man, but men are human,” the Hat chuckled. “And are therefore fallible. Do remember that, Mr. Potter.”
“Gryffindor!” The Hat called out, before Harry could question his last statement. Harry handed the animated creature back to McGonagall, noting her fierce, small smile.
Harry slid into a spot between Hermione and Neville. The other boy was grinning ear to ear. “Well done, Harry!”
You have no idea, Harry managed a weak smile for him.
“Isn’t it fabulous?” Hermione tugged at his arm. “This whole - it’s all - it’s fabulous!”
Harry twisted around to look at Draco. The blond stuck his tongue out at Harry and then grinned. Harry huffed out a laugh. Why is Malfoy so different? He rolled his eyes at the other boy and stuck his tongue out back. It felt silly, actually acting like he was eleven again, but…nice, too.
The last of the Sorting was wrapped up with Zabini being placed into Slytherin. The dark skinned boy slid into place next to Draco.
Harry turned his attention to Dumbledore as the man gave his short, odd speech. Harry wasn’t sure, but it felt like the old man’s gaze had rested on Harry a moment too long. Harry turned away, even knowing he was too far away for Legilimency, but he wasn’t willing to risk it.
The appearing food didn’t startle him this time around. He let the wash of talk at the table slide over him as he pushed his potatoes around his plate, thoughts running around in similar circles.
He needed to practice his Occlumency, enough so that Dumbledore believed his mind to have a natural shield. Harry could not risk being Obliviated - too much rested on his shoulders.
But what if someone did get through? Harry ducked as the twins tossed a roll at Ron. The few times Harry had been unable to control his shields were when he was asleep or being tortured. While the chances of the later were few at the moment, he did have to sleep, didn’t he?
One thing at a time, he forced himself to take a few bites of steak as Hermione began to frown at him. Harry wasn’t going to stuff himself again, not like he had, the first time. He’d had to vomit it all up, later. It was worse this time around, too, since he’d been on bread and water since the incident with Aunt Petunia.
“Oh, food,” said a voice next to Harry’s plate. “I miss you so.”
Harry jerked back as Nearly Headless Nick rose up through the table. The ghost looked just as Harry remembered him, starched ruff and all.
“You’re a ghost,” Hermione said, eyes huge.
“Yes, indeed, I am! I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, at your service, my lady,” Nick rose up enough to give an elaborate bow.
“That’s Nearly Headless Nick,” said one of the older students across from Harry. “Don’t mind him.”
“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -”
“Nearly Headless,” Hermione pointed at him with her fork. “How can you be nearly headless? You either are, or you aren’t!”
“Like this,” the ghost snapped. He seized his left ear and pulled. It was as gross the second time as it had been the first. Harry made a face and looked away.
“So - new Gryffindors!” Nick continued, looking pleased by Hermione’s squeal and Neville’s green tinge. “I hope you’re going to help up win the house championship this year. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron is becoming almost unbearable. He’s the Slytherin ghost.”
Harry looked over to the Slytherin table. The Bloody Baron was right next to Malfoy, who straightened up when he saw Harry looking. Draco pointed at the ghost, then to Nick. Harry rolled his eyes at him, but nodded.
“How did he get covered in blood?” Seamus leaned forward, eyes on Nick.
“I’ve never asked,” said Nick.
Harry took a slice of pie when the desserts appeared, despite Hermione’s scolding.
“You should have had more dinner!” The bushy haired girl looked torn between grabbing a dessert and being virtuous.
“I bet wizards have charms to keep cavities from forming in their teeth,” Harry glanced at her, biting back a smile.
“Oh,” Hermione’s eyes went big. “Well, in that case…”
Harry heard Ron’s laughter from a few seats down. He was wedged in between Seamus and Dean. “I’m a half and half,” Seamus was saying. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mom didn’t tell him she was a witch ‘til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”
“I’m their brother,” Ron pointed at the twins. “I’ve got a baby sister at home, too, but she’s such a brat!”
“Oh, icckle Ronnikins,” said George.
“Shall we,” said Fred.
“Tell Mum?”
Ron sputtered.
“What about you, Neville?” Seamus turned to them.
“Well, my Gran brought me up,” Neville said, glancing at Harry. He gave the other boy a smile and a nod. “But the family thought I was a squib for ages. My Great-Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off guard and force some magic out of me. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once. I nearly drowned - but nothing happened until I was eight. Uncle Algie dangled me out the window after dinner one night and accidentally let go. But I bounced!” Neville beamed. “All the way down the garden and into the road. Gran was so pleased. Great-Uncle Algie got me my toad as a present.”
“That’s awful!” Hermione cried.
Neville shrugged. “It was an accident. Great-Uncle Algie never meant to really hurt me.”
“How about you, mate?” Seamus turned to Harry. Harry sighed as the looks of rabid curiosity sprang up around them.
“Well,” he scratched the back of his head. “I turned my teacher’s wig blue, once.”
Laughter erupted around him. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stir. He glanced up at the head table. Snape was watching him. Harry bit back a sigh. Snape’s class was going to be awful. Harry made a face at the carcass of his apple pie; he hadn’t been able to eat much of it, after all.
Snape had never liked Harry, and the feeling had been mutual. Harry had never understood the man’s ability to hold onto a grudge - but, Harry had to admit, the man did have a good reason. Harry had never agreed with Dumbledore’s handling of Snape and the Marauder’s pranks - not that Snape hadn’t done his best to make their lives miserable as well. But, the bullied part of Harry’s soul had to point out, it had been four against one and the Marauder’s pranks had always been on the vicious side. Sure, Harry might not have liked Snape, but no one should have been punished after almost being torn to pieces by a werewolf, at least not like Snape had been. Still. Just because he empathized with the man didn’t mean Harry had to like him. Not in the least.
Harry kept quiet all throughout the school song and Dumbledore’s dire warnings about the third-floor corridor on the right hand side. Harry and the rest of the House followed Percy out of the Great Hall, past the talking portraits and through a few of the well-known passageways.
But none of that gave him an answer to his dilemma. What was he going to do about Snape?
The question followed Harry into sleep, safely ensconced inside Gryffindor Tower, the only home he had ever, truly, loved.
Chapter Six
See Master Post for details.
The Road Not Taken: Chapter Five
“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.
“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” Professor McGonagall looked much the same as the last time Harry had seen her. She seemed so tall, he realized, to his eleven-year-old self. Her hair was still dark, not streaked with white as it had become at the end of the war with Voldemort. Years of having her as his teacher, and as his Head of House, made it possible for him to see through the stern mask she had adopted. She did it every year, he remembered. James had been petrified of her. Harry had to blink fast and look down.
They shuffled after McGonagall into the entrance hall. The vast space was lit by flaming torches along the wall. The moving staircases were still as they made their way to a closed door to the right. He could hear the roar of voices even through the thick wood. They were ushered past the main entrance into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They had to crowd into the space; Draco and Hermione were shoved in next to him. A good elbow to Draco’s side got the blond to be silent. Glaring, but silent.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. Your house will be like your family within Hogwarts; you will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.
“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”
Harry had to bite his lip to hide his smile. The first year’s speech hadn’t changed a bit.
“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting,” her gaze swept over the crowd. Harry saw her linger on Ron and Dean. “I shall return when we are ready for you,” she said. “Please wait quietly.” She left the chamber with a swish of her robes.
“How do they sort us into the houses?” Hermione nudged Harry. “Do you think we’ll have to take a test? I’ve not been able to read all our books yet!”
“We don’t have to take a test, stupid,” Draco snorted.
“Don’t call me stupid!”
“You’re being stupid.”
“Then how are we sorted, mister know-it-all?”
“It’s a ceremony,” Draco rolled his eyes. “You mu-Muggles are so weird.”
“Enough,” Harry cut in before they could start shouting. Again.
“Harry!” Neville had shoved his way through the crowd. “There you are.”
“Neville,” Harry grinned at him. “Still have Trevor?”
“Right here,” Neville patted his pocket. There was a distinct toad-shaped bulge.
"You have a toad?” Draco wrinkled his nose.
“My Great-Uncle Algie gave him to me,” Neville put a protective hand over his pocket.
“A toad.”
“There is nothing wrong with a toad,” Hermione snapped.
“Except its distinct inability to fly, deliver letters, packages or anything else remotely useful,” Draco rolled his eyes.
Harry had to bite back a laugh. There, right there, was the cutting humor Harry had grown fond of later in life. As an adult, Draco had the skill of withering humor down pat - Harry had seen the blond in the halls of the Ministry ripping down his political opponents with relish, all the while making the crowd around them howl with laughter. Harry had not always agreed with Draco’s tactics - and whom he verbally attacked in public - but Harry had to admit that the man had had talent with words.
“But I like Trevor,” Neville said.
“Well, then, good for you,” Draco poked Harry’s side. “You don’t think toads are useful, do you?”
“Toads are useful,” Harry shot him a look. “Just like cats and kneazles and owls and everything else that can be used as familiars. They all have their strengths and their weaknesses.” He caught Hermione’s appraising look and winced. I probably shouldn’t have said all that.
Draco snorted. “Oh, be logical then.”
“Thank you, I shall.”
“What’s a kneazle?” Hermione asked.
Harry jumped when several kids began to scream. He whirled, hand going for his wand, heart thumping in his ears. People had screamed like that when - when…
“Harry?” Draco touched his arm. Harry flinched away.
“What?”
“It’s just the ghosts,” Draco frowned, reaching for Harry’s arm. “You look awful.”
“It was just a start.”
“You’re not sickly, are you?” Draco pulled away.
“He’s not sick,” Hermione snapped.
“I’m fine,” Harry said. “Look,” he pointed. Ghosts had streamed in through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another with hardly a glance at the first years. The familiar argument about Peeves washed over Harry’s ears. He struggled to tame the rush of adrenaline that had spiked through his body.
“The ceremony is about to begin,” Professor McGonagall’s voice made them all turn. The older witch raised her eyebrows at them. “Form a line and follow me.”
Harry ended up first of his little knot, behind Dean. Ron was a few bodies ahead of Harry. Draco had elbowed Neville aside for the spot behind Harry. Neville and then Hermione had formed the rest of their part of the line.
McGonagall led them into the Great Hall. Like the first time Harry had seen it, his breath caught in the back of his throat. The four long tables were filled with hundreds of students. Above them hung a forest of lit candles. Above that was the ceiling, a field of twinkling stars.
“It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History,” Hermione’s loud whisper carried to his ear.
Harry dragged his attention back to where Professor McGonagall had placed the familiar stool and Sorting Hat. It twitched, coming to life amid the gasps of the first years. Then it began to sing. Harry had forgotten about the song. He bit down hard on his lip. The Hat can see into my thoughts, he wiped sweaty palms off on his robes. Draco had edged up to him again.
“We have to put that thing on?” The blond sounded horrified.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, a long roll of parchment in her hands. “When I call your name, you will put on the Hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”
Harry’s attention wandered up to the head table as the list of students was read out. Dumbledore looked serene, eyes hidden behind his half-moon glasses, fingers tangled in his beard. Quirrell was there, but Harry cut his gaze away before his scar could twinge. Snape still sat next to Quirrell, as greasy as ever, dark hair long and stringy and -
Merlin, Harry blinked, peering at the Potions Master. He - Snape looks so young.
The humor wasn’t lost on him.
Harry watched as Hermione jammed the Hat on her head. Of course, I was almost of age with the man when I - when it all…Harry forced his gaze to the ground. The git loved Mum, he reminded himself. And Mum - Mum was his friend. For a long time, before he was a bloody idiot. There had to have been something good in him, once, right?
He snorted, shaking his head at Draco when the blond looked his way.
The Sorting went as Harry remembered. Hermione went to Gryffindor, as did Neville. Malfoy didn’t swagger his way up to the Hat this time, though, and the Hat sat for a moment on his head before calling out, “Slytherin!” Draco shot Harry a triumphant look, which puzzled him. Then, McGonagall read out, “Potter, Harry!”
Harry stepped forward as whispers broke out over the hall. He tuned them out as he settled onto the stool, the Hat slipping down over his eyes.
“Well, my, my,” said a familiar voice in his ear. “You are full of surprises, Mr. Potter.”
Harry took a deep breath. I need to be in Gryffindor, he thought at the Hat. You can see my memories and know why.
“Time travel,” the Hat sounded gleeful. “By my brim, of all the things I’ve lived to see. But, oh, my, oh my,” the Hat’s tone went soft. “I…see. Yes, Mr. Potter. I do see.”
Then you’ll put me in Gryffindor. And you won’t tell Dumbledore? That had been one of his main concerns. Harry loved the old wizard like a grandfather, but he knew Dumbledore’s ways. The old wizard believed what he was doing was for the best of the wizarding world. If he believed Harry was going to cause a time paradox, what wouldn’t Dumbledore do in his belief of what was right? Love for Harry or no, Dumbledore would Obliviate Harry at best. Harry didn’t want to consider anything worse.
“You have a great many good points, Mr. Potter,” the Hat said. “Yes, I believe you are right. Dumbledore is a great man, but men are human,” the Hat chuckled. “And are therefore fallible. Do remember that, Mr. Potter.”
“Gryffindor!” The Hat called out, before Harry could question his last statement. Harry handed the animated creature back to McGonagall, noting her fierce, small smile.
Harry slid into a spot between Hermione and Neville. The other boy was grinning ear to ear. “Well done, Harry!”
You have no idea, Harry managed a weak smile for him.
“Isn’t it fabulous?” Hermione tugged at his arm. “This whole - it’s all - it’s fabulous!”
Harry twisted around to look at Draco. The blond stuck his tongue out at Harry and then grinned. Harry huffed out a laugh. Why is Malfoy so different? He rolled his eyes at the other boy and stuck his tongue out back. It felt silly, actually acting like he was eleven again, but…nice, too.
The last of the Sorting was wrapped up with Zabini being placed into Slytherin. The dark skinned boy slid into place next to Draco.
Harry turned his attention to Dumbledore as the man gave his short, odd speech. Harry wasn’t sure, but it felt like the old man’s gaze had rested on Harry a moment too long. Harry turned away, even knowing he was too far away for Legilimency, but he wasn’t willing to risk it.
The appearing food didn’t startle him this time around. He let the wash of talk at the table slide over him as he pushed his potatoes around his plate, thoughts running around in similar circles.
He needed to practice his Occlumency, enough so that Dumbledore believed his mind to have a natural shield. Harry could not risk being Obliviated - too much rested on his shoulders.
But what if someone did get through? Harry ducked as the twins tossed a roll at Ron. The few times Harry had been unable to control his shields were when he was asleep or being tortured. While the chances of the later were few at the moment, he did have to sleep, didn’t he?
One thing at a time, he forced himself to take a few bites of steak as Hermione began to frown at him. Harry wasn’t going to stuff himself again, not like he had, the first time. He’d had to vomit it all up, later. It was worse this time around, too, since he’d been on bread and water since the incident with Aunt Petunia.
“Oh, food,” said a voice next to Harry’s plate. “I miss you so.”
Harry jerked back as Nearly Headless Nick rose up through the table. The ghost looked just as Harry remembered him, starched ruff and all.
“You’re a ghost,” Hermione said, eyes huge.
“Yes, indeed, I am! I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, at your service, my lady,” Nick rose up enough to give an elaborate bow.
“That’s Nearly Headless Nick,” said one of the older students across from Harry. “Don’t mind him.”
“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -”
“Nearly Headless,” Hermione pointed at him with her fork. “How can you be nearly headless? You either are, or you aren’t!”
“Like this,” the ghost snapped. He seized his left ear and pulled. It was as gross the second time as it had been the first. Harry made a face and looked away.
“So - new Gryffindors!” Nick continued, looking pleased by Hermione’s squeal and Neville’s green tinge. “I hope you’re going to help up win the house championship this year. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron is becoming almost unbearable. He’s the Slytherin ghost.”
Harry looked over to the Slytherin table. The Bloody Baron was right next to Malfoy, who straightened up when he saw Harry looking. Draco pointed at the ghost, then to Nick. Harry rolled his eyes at him, but nodded.
“How did he get covered in blood?” Seamus leaned forward, eyes on Nick.
“I’ve never asked,” said Nick.
Harry took a slice of pie when the desserts appeared, despite Hermione’s scolding.
“You should have had more dinner!” The bushy haired girl looked torn between grabbing a dessert and being virtuous.
“I bet wizards have charms to keep cavities from forming in their teeth,” Harry glanced at her, biting back a smile.
“Oh,” Hermione’s eyes went big. “Well, in that case…”
Harry heard Ron’s laughter from a few seats down. He was wedged in between Seamus and Dean. “I’m a half and half,” Seamus was saying. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mom didn’t tell him she was a witch ‘til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”
“I’m their brother,” Ron pointed at the twins. “I’ve got a baby sister at home, too, but she’s such a brat!”
“Oh, icckle Ronnikins,” said George.
“Shall we,” said Fred.
“Tell Mum?”
Ron sputtered.
“What about you, Neville?” Seamus turned to them.
“Well, my Gran brought me up,” Neville said, glancing at Harry. He gave the other boy a smile and a nod. “But the family thought I was a squib for ages. My Great-Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off guard and force some magic out of me. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once. I nearly drowned - but nothing happened until I was eight. Uncle Algie dangled me out the window after dinner one night and accidentally let go. But I bounced!” Neville beamed. “All the way down the garden and into the road. Gran was so pleased. Great-Uncle Algie got me my toad as a present.”
“That’s awful!” Hermione cried.
Neville shrugged. “It was an accident. Great-Uncle Algie never meant to really hurt me.”
“How about you, mate?” Seamus turned to Harry. Harry sighed as the looks of rabid curiosity sprang up around them.
“Well,” he scratched the back of his head. “I turned my teacher’s wig blue, once.”
Laughter erupted around him. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stir. He glanced up at the head table. Snape was watching him. Harry bit back a sigh. Snape’s class was going to be awful. Harry made a face at the carcass of his apple pie; he hadn’t been able to eat much of it, after all.
Snape had never liked Harry, and the feeling had been mutual. Harry had never understood the man’s ability to hold onto a grudge - but, Harry had to admit, the man did have a good reason. Harry had never agreed with Dumbledore’s handling of Snape and the Marauder’s pranks - not that Snape hadn’t done his best to make their lives miserable as well. But, the bullied part of Harry’s soul had to point out, it had been four against one and the Marauder’s pranks had always been on the vicious side. Sure, Harry might not have liked Snape, but no one should have been punished after almost being torn to pieces by a werewolf, at least not like Snape had been. Still. Just because he empathized with the man didn’t mean Harry had to like him. Not in the least.
Harry kept quiet all throughout the school song and Dumbledore’s dire warnings about the third-floor corridor on the right hand side. Harry and the rest of the House followed Percy out of the Great Hall, past the talking portraits and through a few of the well-known passageways.
But none of that gave him an answer to his dilemma. What was he going to do about Snape?
The question followed Harry into sleep, safely ensconced inside Gryffindor Tower, the only home he had ever, truly, loved.
Chapter Six