Harry never made it far in Muggle primary school, having been rather homeless and all. But he never considered being a Hogwarts drop out as well, until this term started. If his first few days back were any indicator of how the rest of the year was going to go then he thought he might try his luck at dropping out and becoming a permanent resident of the Leaky Cauldron. Griphook had a lot of his gold tied up in investments and some other 'fruitful financial expenditures' and had assured him he would never need to work a day in his life. And he had yet to find a way to drain a Wixen of their magic. So really, he could probably drop out and be fine. And if things didn't start looking up then that would be the first thing he'd bring up to Snape on Sunday.
First, Lestrange had attacked Ron. Which had made Harry's blood boil to watch. Then Professor Snape had sent him a lot of hateful looks and muttered a lot of rude things about him as he healed Dolohov. And then Professor Snape said Harry wasn't allowed to carry his knife on him anymore when he examined Lestrange's face, even though he didn't waste his knife on that prat.
He still had his knife safely in his pocket. If Snape thought he wasn't going to carry it anymore then he didn't know him as well as Harry thought he might.
The next morning, on their first day of classes, Harry was nearly late to Herbology because he had to duck and dodge around the lawns to avoid Lockhart. Draco had huffed and rolled his eyes at him but there was something Harry didn't like about the new Professor. He was creepy with his white smile and the way he just went around grabbing people. Plus, his eyes always seemed to linger on Harry a little too long when he saw him which made Harry simultaneously want to scream and vomit.
It was much easier to just avoid the man.
When they trailed in to Herbology, exactly on time despite Draco's mumbled worries, Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored earmuffs were lying on the bench.
Once they were all in place, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"
None of the Slytherins were surprised when Theo's hand was first into the air. "Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," he said, sounding like he memorized the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."
"Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"
Theo's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again.
He gave him a nasty glare that made Theo take a small step away from him.
"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," he said.
"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."
She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked boring to Harry, who didn't have the slightest idea what Theo meant by the "cry" of the Mandrake.
He thought if the cries were fatal they might be useful to have on hand though.
"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.
There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy. Harry chuckled as Draco was stuck with the pink ones.
"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right — earmuffs on."
Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely and he hated it. It made him feel terribly vulnerable to anyone who might sneak up on him. He did his breathing trick, in two three four five, out two three four, and tried to blink away the white sparkles that were trying to overtake his vision.
Professor Sprout put a large fluffy pair of earmuffs over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.
Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.
Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.
"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia.
Harry felt his respect for the dowdy Herbology Professor rise just a little.
"However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.
"Four to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in the sacks over there — and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething." She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.
Harry paired up with Susan, Theo, and some curly haired Hufflepuff boy he'd never spoken to before. The boy stood close by Susan and chatted to them all as they worked.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said, offering his hand to Harry. Harry ignored it and just gave him a curt nod of acknowledgment. The Hufflepuff boy didn't seem put out because he just kept rambling on to him.
"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read some of my books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family..."
Harry wondered if Muggle families were nicer when they thought of ways that they could use their kids once they got the hang of their magic? It was just another reason he didn't think that muggleborns should have to remain at home before Hogwarts.
Thankfully, they didn't have much chance to talk after Justin's initial rambling introduction. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Harry nearly punched a little fat one that didn't want to go in its pot.
By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Slytherins hurried off to their first History of Magic class.
Harry's mood was slightly improved after class on their way to lunch when he caught two first year Gryffindor boys picking on a little blonde Ravenclaw girl outside the history corridor.
He focused his magic and grinned as the two boys suddenly flew away from her and in to the wall, dropping her bag they'd been keeping from her.
"Thank you Harry Potter," she said softly as he walked past her. He smirked at her but otherwise ignored her needless thanks.
Throwing bullies in to a wall was really the first bright spot in his day. Maybe he should have thanked her.
"What've we got next?" Ron asked at lunch, scarfing down some potatoes.
"Defense," Hermione said, studying her own time table.
"Why do you have our schedule memorized?" Draco asked, scandalized.
"More importantly," Blaise quickly grabbed the schedule from her, "why do you have your own defense lessons outlined in little hearts?"
Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.
They finished lunch and Harry, Ron, Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Susan went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione and Neville left for their next class. Harry and Draco were talking about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts when Harry got the eerie feeling he was being watched.
Looking up, he saw the very small, mousy-haired boy he'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night staring at Harry as though transfixed. Harry saw he was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, or at least it looked less magical than the one Harry received from Susan over the summer, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.
"All right, Harry? I'm — I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor. D'you think — would it be all right if — can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.
"A picture?" Harry repeated tonelessly.
"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward, showing why he was chosen for Gryffindor because the nasty look Harry was giving him wasn't exactly inviting.
"I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you" — he looked imploringly at Harry — "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"
Before Harry could decide between asking the boy about his Muggle relatives or catching his camera on fire, a shrill voice rang across the courtyard.
"Signed photos? Who would want a signed photo of Potter?"
Pansy Parkinson had came up right behind Colin, flanked, as she always was, by Millicent Bulstrode.
"Piss off," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Walk away now, Parkinson."
"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose reckless bravery must have been even stronger than Harry had first thought.
"Jealous?" Parkinson cried, looking around in glee, half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want an ugly scar right across my head, thanks. Of course, Potter has a lot of ugly scars, it's hard to tell which one people are even staring at."
"I'd walk away while you still can," Draco warned her coolly. Harry was pulling his knife out of his robe pocket when-
"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart strode toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"
Harry was going to dodge behind Blaise, who was quite a bit taller than him, but Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"
"Don't touch me," Harry said as strongly as he could, despite every nerve in his body feeling alight.
Lockhart looked down at Harry in shock, as if he'd never seen him properly before. Harry took the opportunity to shove the man's arm off him and step quickly over beside Theo and Susan.
Lockhart was still gaping at Harry when the bell rang, signaling the start of afternoon classes.
"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, startled into speaking by the bell. "Harry, I'd like a word, walk with me to class."
"C'mon," Blaise murmured nudging him forward. "I'll walk with you."
Harry, who felt rather light headed at the thought of walking alone with the man who kept insisting on touching him, gave Blaise a cold sneer.
"I don't need help, I'm not weak," he spat. "I'll meet you guys in class."
He turned and stomped away from his friends and followed beside Lockhart at a safe distance away.
"A word to the wise, Harry," said Lockhart in a tone of voice Harry couldn't quite place, as they entered the building through a side door. "You offering signed photos to your classmates, while admirable, certainly isn't going to gain you any fans, is it?"
"I wasn't signing autographs and it wouldn't be your business if I was. It's not against the rules, is it?"
Lockhart had swept him down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase when he stopped and looked at Harry with his blue eyes wide.
"I'm j-just looking out for you," he stammered. "There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but" — he gave a weak little chuckle — "I don't think you're quite there yet."
Harry saw the Defense classroom, and his friends waiting outside it, so he took a deep breath and gave Lockhart his best 'I'm Severus Snape and you are an imbecile' look.
"I'd bet my vault that more people know me now than will ever know you. Did you defeat a evil murderer as a baby?" He gave Lockhart a disgusted look from head to toe, "No? I didn't think so."
He tucked his trembling hands under his arms and tried to swoop towards his friends, it looked brill when Snape did it.
He's going to kill you. Lockhart is going to kill you.
Harry ignored his shaking limbs and racing thoughts as he nudged Ron out of the corner seat in the back, claiming it as his own. Ron had scooted over a chair without any complaint but rolled his eyes when Susan made him move again so she could sit by Harry.
"I bet Snape knows a potion to make his teeth fall out," Susan whispered under the noise of the other students getting out their books.
Harry snorted, appreciating her stab at humor. "If he puts a hand on me one more time I'm going to pull them out one by one," he hissed back to her, glaring at the man preening in the front of the classroom.
Ron, who was seated on the other side of Susan, leaned forward and whispered to Theo, "10 sickles Harry gets rid of Lockhart before the end of the year."
When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Vincent Crabbes' copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.
"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award — but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"
He waited for them to laugh; not a single Slytherin even twitched a lip.
"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books," he said, apparently ignoring Harry and Susan's empty desk. "I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in —"
When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes — start — now!"
Harry looked down at his paper and read:
1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:
54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?
Harry considered crumpling his in to a ball but thought he'd already pushed his luck with the grown man enough for one day. The last thing he wanted was a detention alone with the creep.
Half an hour later, which Harry had spent making up the wildest answers he could, Lockhart collected their quizzes.
"Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully — I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples — though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"
He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was staring at Lockhart with unconcealed disgust.
"What a prat," Susan murmured to Harry who hummed in agreement.
"Those of you who turned in blank parchments-" Draco, Theo, and Blaise snorted with amusement, "- you may want to read your books carefully to prepare yourself for the beasts I'll be teaching you to control!"
He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.
"Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."
In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. He didn't think inferi were a second year creature but Lockhart was a moron so he was hoping there'd be one in the cage.
Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. "I must ask you not to scream," he said in a low voice. "It might provoke them."
As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.
"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."
Draco couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.
"Yes?" He smiled at Draco.
"Well, they're not — they're not very — dangerous, are they?" Draco choked. "I mean, Harry before coffee is scarier than pixies."
Harry was rather offended until he was vindicated by a Hufflepuff boy with glasses muttering, "Potter is scary after coffee."
Harry smiled. Maybe he wouldn't drop out of Hogwarts just yet. The nervous look Lockhart gave him just made his smile stretch wider.
The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.
"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly, apparently opting to ignore Draco. "Let's see what you make of them!" Then he opened the cage.
It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass, Harry had to react quick to cover his friends with a shield so they wouldn't get cut.
The rest of the pixies proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, upended the wastebasket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, the Hufflepuff half the class was sheltering under desks while Harry kept his shield up for the Slytherins he didn't hate.
So basically all of them except Parkinson and Bulstrode.
"Come on now — round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted. He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Ron and Susan laughed when they did that, Harry swore one of the pixies gave them an approving look.
Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk. Harry couldn't wait to tell their Head of House how incompetent their Professor was. Even Quirrell had bigger bullocks than Lockhart.
The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Susan, who were still sitting at their table, and said, "Well, I'll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.
The other Slytherin boys faltered on their way towards the door- giving Harry an inquiring look.
"Not a fuckin' chance," Harry snorted, walking out and leaving the pixies to destroy Lockharts classroom.
***
Harry spent the rest of the week alternating between avoiding Lockhart, avoiding Colin Creevey from Gryffindor, and avoiding Ron's younger sister Ginny.
Ginny was an odd girl. When she had been sorted Ron had groaned softly and whispered to Harry that he'd never get another moments rest again. But ever since the first night Ginny had started turning a horrible shade of pale at the sight of Harry and running away. It was still annoying, but minimally better than her blush and stammer from when they met over the summer.
He felt better after Professor Snape had spent a good part of their first lesson talking about incompetent teachers and senile old men who hire them.
Even Neville had chuckled when they overheard the man complaining about 'Morons with the vanity of a peacock and the brains of a dead troll'.
***
Draco woke him up early on the first Saturday of term and drug him to breakfast the moment it was open.
"Tryouts are at seven thirty!" Draco reminded him as Harry blearily sipped a hot cup of coffee.
"I know, you know how I know? Because you've told me every five minutes since you woke me up at six," Harry snarked. "I don't know why I'm bothering. Flint is friends with Lestrange, he's never going to let me try out."
His ridiculous ideas of playing seeker for the Slytherin team, that Draco had encouraged, were shattered rapidly on the first night when he saw Flint whispering with Dolohov and shooting Harry dark looks.
"Don't worry about that," Draco said, puffing his chest out. "I've already got a plan."
When the boys arrived on the pitch, Nimbus 2001's in hand, Harry tried to tell himself it didn't matter. Flying was amazing but he could fly without being on the team. It would be cool to be a part of it and training with Draco would be a good time but it didn't really matter.
He thought he had convinced himself but was disappointed to feel just a twinge of hurt when the captain, Flint, saw him and started laughing.
"No way, Potter run along now. Unless you're trying out to be a bludger," he shook the bat he was holding threateningly.
"Don't curse him, yet," Draco whispered to Harry, correctly identifying the look on his face.
"Wanna make a bet?" Draco drawled loudly, gaining the attention of the Slytherin team and the rest of the team hopefuls.
"What kind of bet?" Flint asked, his beady eyes narrowing.
"If you let Harry tryout and don't immediately put him on the team, I'll buy you a Nimbus 2001," Draco said confidently, giving a look of distaste to Flints faded broom.
"Done," Flint agreed quickly. "What spot are you trying out for Potter?"
Draco smirked, a pleased look in his eyes, as Harry lined up with the other two older Slytherins who were trying out for the seeker position.
"The flyer with the most apples after ten minutes gets the spot," Flint called after they were in the air. "No cheating Potter," he added.
After Harry caught the eighth apple in a row, quickly and easily dodging around the other two fliers to do so, it was obvious he didn't need to cheat to get the spot.
When they landed Flint looked mad enough to break his broomstick in half.
"Fine," he said between clenched teeth. "Potter is the new seeker."
Draco let out a loud 'WHOOP!' and Harry beamed at him. Draco had done something nice for him without expecting anything in return. He could have just pretended to be sympathetic to Harry not getting to tryout while taking the seeker position for himself. He'd find a way to repay him.
He didn't expect to see his chance so soon until Draco was in the air with eight other Slytherin's trying out for the one open chasers position. Draco was a good flier, and would probably become a great flier once he started training with the team, but some of the other students were already really good.
And Draco had just pissed Flint off on Harry's behalf.
"I'll buy the rest of the team brooms like mine and Draco's if he makes the team," Harry murmured, not wanting anyone else to hear.
Flint whipped his head around so quickly it was almost comical. "You mean it?"
Harry nodded, "But if you tell a single soul I'll kill you in your sleep."
Flint twitched forward, a step away from Harry, and blew his whistle.
"I've made my decision! Land!" he yelled.
Harry listened to Draco brag about his 'superior flying skills' the rest of the day and was still smiling happily when he sent Sevvie off with an order form for five new Nimbus 2001's.