NOVEL NEXT Chapter 15: Chapter 15
Chapter 15
"You alright, Uncle Peter?" Harry asked, approaching the caretaker once they were alone.
"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine," Peter said, bewildered. "Harry, how did you learn to duel like that?"
"I just got lucky," Harry shrugged. "They didn't expect me to fight back, and I caught them off-guard, that's all."
"That was some advanced defensive magic you used," Peter remarked. "I doubt even Flint could have produced a Shield Charm that strong."
"I like to read ahead," Harry shrugged. "Guess that's why I'm in Ravenclaw, eh?"
Peter chuckled awkwardly at this sentiment. "Listen, I'd better go," he said, eyeing the rush of oncoming students; Quirrell's last class had just let out. "Come by my office Friday night, will you? We should talk."
"Erm...yes, alright," Harry agreed. It's not a trap, he reminded himself. This isn't the Peter Pettigrew you knew in your timeline. Peter gave him a nervous smile, then hustled off down the corridor.
Harry turned back towards the classroom, where the Slytherin and Hufflepuff first-years were filing out. He spied Ron and Neville amidst the group; the latter was rubbing his scar with a pained expression on his face. "Alright there, Neville?" Harry called out.
"Huh? Oh, hello, Harry," Neville said in pained greeting. "'M fine. Just a headache, is all."
"Can't blame you," Ron said sympathetically, patting Neville on the back. "That Quirrell bloke is a nutter. Got all kinds of weird herbs and fragrances in there...maybe you're allergic to something."
"Yeah, maybe," Neville muttered. Harry bade them farewell as he entered the classroom for his own lesson with the Gryffindors. Hopefully putting some distance between himself and Quirrell would help ease Neville's suffering – in hindsight, that had helped Harry tremendously in his own first year.
Harry spent much of his DADA lesson staring at Quirrell's turban, imagining what an odd sensation it must be to have a disembodied spirit residing in the back of your head. He glared openly at the back of the turban whenever Quirrell turned his back to them, wondering if Voldemort could see him through the fabric. He almost invited it. I'm not afraid of you,Harry silently mocked the spirit. I'll find an excuse to expose you, and you'll be done for.
Now that Harry was free to listen to Quirrell's lectures without the constant scar pain, he was surprised to find that the man really knew his stuff. His knowledge of obscure defensive magic from around the globe was apparent – he had clearly made good use of his travels abroad to learn more than what the standard British curriculum could teach. Shame you had to fall into Voldemort's clutches, Harry lamented. I might have enjoyed learning upper-year Defense from you.
Harry spent the remainder of the day on-edge, expecting a reprisal from the Slytherin boys, but none ever came. Perhaps they'd decided he wasn't worth it. Maybe Snape had chewed some common sense into them (unlikely). Or, Harry realized, they might have learned who he was, and that his father was the famed Auror James Potter. It was odd getting used to the feeling of his father being more famous than he was, but he supposed it had its perks. He even started to understand why Draco so relished in holding the threat of his own father over people…
Later that week, Harry had his first Potions lesson with Snape, which he had been dreading. He may not be the Chosen One anymore, but Snape's hatred for his father certainly couldn't be much different in this timeline, if not worse given that he was still alive and present in society. Sure enough, he felt Snape's eyes narrow upon him as he stood before the frightened class, waiting for the lesson to begin.
"Potter!" snapped Snape after several seconds of awkward silence. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"The Draught of Living Death," Harry said confidently. He had anticipated this ambush coming, and prepared by carefully studying his first-year potions book ahead of time to ensure he knew its contents.
"Hmph," said Snape. "And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
"In the stomach of a goat," said Harry. "It's a stone that can reverse the effects of most poisons."
"I did not ask you what it did," Snape snapped at him. "Now tell me, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"There is none," Harry said simply. He knew that it also went more commonly by the name aconite, but did not wish to volunteer more information than asked for, lest he invoke Snape's wrath once more. Snape was peering at Harry with his deep black eyes, sneering; Harry stared right back, unblinking.
Eventually, Snape's lip curled up into a thin smile. "Very good, Potter," he said. "Perhaps you take after your mother after all."
Don't you bring up my mother, Harry thought furiously. I know what you called her in your fifth year. But he said nothing, merely looking back up at the professor impassively, praying for him to move on.
"Longbottom!" Snape suddenly said, rounding on a frightened Neville across the room. "Can you recite for me the primary ingredients of a Polyjuice Potion?"
That isn't covered until our O.W.L. year! Harry thought indignantly. He also saw Hermione's face scrunched up at this question; clearly she hadn't encountered it in the textbook yet either. Neville's eyes went wide at the unfair question.
"I-I don't know, sir," he muttered.
"Hmph," Snape said, glaring down at the poor boy. "Clearly fame isn't everything, Mr. Longbottom. You'll have to try harder than that to succeed in my class." And Snape continued on with his lesson, with Neville staring glumly down at his feet. The injustice caused Harry to remember just how much he'd hated the man before – clearly things wouldn't be much different in this new timeline.
The other notable event of the week came during Charms lesson, in which Professor Flitwick introduced them to the Levitation Charm. "The incantation is Wingardium Leviosa," he instructed them. "Swish and flick, as so. Now, please break up into pairs and take turns practicing on the feathers provided for you."
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