Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related terms and characters are the property of JK Rowling. The use of copyrighted material is for non-profit entertainment purposes only, and in no way constitutes a challenge to the existing copyright.

A/N: Second overhauled chapter, up and ready to go. My spell incantations are relevant Greek and Latin word parts thrown together; they may seem a little more random than Rowling's choices, but I'd like to think that a spell as strange as turning a match into a needle has a strange incantation to go along with it.

I've also answered an ages-old question that I've been pondering since I first wrote this chapter. If Draco wasn't an enemy, there wouldn't have been the discovery of Fluffy. If Ron hadn't insulted Hermione, there'd have been no need for the Troll. I've created a story where Draco is not an enemy, and thus any antagonistic situations with him would feel contrived at best. I am aware at what that implies for future chapters, but you'll see when I get there.

For this chapter, I have a workaround that fits the bill nicely, in my opinion. Harry still gets his moment to save Hermione, and my plotline is unaffected overall.

~TOW

--MORE EQUAL THAN YOU KNOW--

TEACHERS, TIMETABLES & TROLLS

The pieces snapped together with a satisfying "click" before the entire construct vanished. She smiled, brushing her short, black hair away from her face. Her smile only widened as she heard a loud crash, followed by a string of expletives and manic laughter. Those two were always good for a few laughs, even if it was at each other's expense.

The humor helped to pass the time while Harry was away.

Maybe Hermione had seen him? No, that wasn't his style; it would break his momentum, and he couldn't allow that. Still, Hermione had the easier job by far. She didn't have to put her life on the line.

'No matter,' she said to herself as she Vanished the leftover parts around her. The last of her items was fully enchanted; all that remained were for the other two to finish theirs, and then… sit and wait. Sighing in frustration, she rose and followed the sounds of the argument that had begun; it was time to refocus her boys.

--//--//--

If you're sure... The Hat spoke ominously, before shouting 'RAVENCLAW!' to the audience.

As the Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers, and Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin applauded politely. Draco and Pansy were all smiles, and Hermione was ecstatic. Ron looked quite disappointed, but he was clapping all the same, and managed a grin when Harry looked at him. He felt his robes rustle a little, and saw that they now sported a blue trim, similar to Hermione's. Walking through a gauntlet of back-slaps and handshakes, Harry made his way over to the bouncing girl, and took a seat beside her.

'I'm so happy that you're in Ravenclaw!' she gushed. 'I was worried that I'd be alone in the house and I knew that we were all different but naturally Draco and Pansy were in Slytherin and Ron was going to be Gryffindor and you didn't seem like you'd be here a-and that meant that I wouldn't have any friends in my house yet and now you're here a-a-and I -I'm just so glad you're here.' Her voice trailed off near the end as her embarrassment caught up with her train of thought.

'Its okay, Hermione,' he replied. 'I'm glad that I have a friend in my house, too.' Hermione's face erupted into a huge grin. Their conversation was interrupted by students calling out introductions; Prefects, older students offering tutoring, and a few that just wanted to meet Harry Potter came over to talk to him. Harry felt as though he was the saint of patience as he spoke with everyone, and enjoyed watching Hermione glow with pleasure every time he introduced her as his friend.

Eventually the well-wishers trailed back to their seats, and Albus Dumbledore rose from the Head Table, resplendent in his purple robes. 'Welcome to Hogwarts!' he called. He looked across the tables at the students, and stopped at Harry. His white moustache and long beard twitched upwards as he smiled and winked, bringing a grin to Harry's face.

--//--//--

I was more relieved that I could possibly say: I was in Hermione's House, I avoided the worst of the politics of the school, and I didn't seem to make any enemies out of it. The professors seemed fairly neutral. Professor Dumbledore, looking like God Himself at the head table, was smiling at me, obviously pleased. Mission accomplished, I thought.

Hogwarts brought home the immense differences between the muggle world and the magical. No plumbing, no electricity, no modern conveniences like toilet paper, no heaters, no insulation, no cell phones, no television, no video games, and on and on and on. You'd think that the magical world could benefit from all of this, right?

Contrast that with food that can't go bad, wash basins where the water stays perfectly pure even if you wash shit off your hands in it, chamber pots that not only immediately destroy your waste but clean you completely as you stand up, and shower "pools" about a foot deep that surround you in a vortex of water, ripping any and all dirt off your body and make any massage setting on a shower head seem pointless.

Compare radios to a wizarding wireless system that could relay information from its broadcasting center directly to the local units without actually broadcasting all over the place, old family albums to pictures and portraits that moved -and sometimes talked, and post to the ridiculously fast and accurate owl mail system.

Sigh in envy at beds and robes that always maintain whatever your body considers a comfortable temperature and the fact that a first-year's charm would instantly banish sweat and nullify body odor and bad breath; for that matter, a second-year's charm could immediately clean your clothing, making washing machines pointless.

Despite the lack of focus on personal entertainment, we wizards are a pampered lot; I'll never complain.

I wasn't really exposed to it in my first year, but I've since come to understand why purebloods associate muggles with the word "filthy." Compared to wizarding society, muggle society is dirty and unsanitary. If you stop and consider exactly how much effort that the muggles put into being sanitary, that's really saying a lot. Even the most sterile hospital room can't compare to how clean the wizarding world is. No matter how fast the Internet gets, it's not worth the headache of dealing with computers when I can reach anyone, anywhere, with Hedwig in about five minutes tops. The communication mirrors I possess make cell phones look outdated, and I'll take Pensieves over video cameras any day.

As I quickly realized looking around Hogwarts in awe, it wasn't the wizards that need to catch up with muggles; it was the muggles who need to catch up with wizards. They've been doing nothing but catching up all along.

--//--//--

Harry flopped onto his bed, giving into the urge to roll in the covers and laugh. It was his bed, in his room, and he couldn't be happier. The four post bed sat in one corner, facing the door. Beside the bed, just under a fair-sized window was a desk with a very comfy chair. After poking around, Harry discovered a charm on the desk that created a tiny ball of light, which floated above the desk like a table lamp. Beside the desk stood a full-sized dresser, where Harry quickly unpacked and hung his robes. There was a polished wooden door to a small washroom opposite to the bed, and after figuring out how everything worked, Harry decided that the washrooms alone were worth being a wizard.

His one regret was that he couldn't invite Hermione into his room; he would never see her room, either. According to the Prefects, a student's room will only ever admit that student; no one else could come in, ever. It was only a small disappointment, though.

Prodded on by Hermione's intent to master the entire year's work in a week, Harry began to practice his first-year spells that very evening.

'Wingardium Leviosa,' Hermione intoned, smiling as the quill rose obediently off the table. 'Finally,' she muttered, 'I can't believe how annoying that was.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Harry replied innocently, directing his airborne quill to fly in small loops and spirals.

'Full of ourselves today, aren't we?' came her sarcastic reply. 'Hey!' she cried, as Harry abandoned his quill, and, whispering the incantation again, took control of Hermione's. 'How did you do that?'

'I didn't know I could. I just wanted to try, and it worked.'

Hermione huffed in annoyance, before turning to open the first year Transfiguration text. 'Why don't we work on transfiguring the quills into needles?' she suggested. 'It's what we'll be starting on tomorrow, and I'd like to see if we can earn some House points.'

'Okay, what're the particulars, besides focusing on the needle?' Harry let both quills fall back to the table in front of them

Hermione's head disappeared behind the pages of the large book, and she flipped several pages. 'The incantation's "Fyterraphus," she read, 'and it looks like one tap, followed by a half-circle with a twist.' Hermione mimicked the motions, and Harry nodded.

'Well, here goes,' he said. 'Fyterraphus.' Harry's quill turned a silver color and shrunk, but otherwise remained very much a quill. 'Fyterraphus,' he said in a stronger voice, pushing his magic towards his wand like it was a muscle. He felt a small rush as his magic reached the wand, and the quill vanished with a small "pop," leaving a perfectly formed needle in its place.

Hermione looked up from her own attempts to stare incredulously at Harry's needle. 'What the…? How did you do that?'

'I pushed.'

'What do you mean, "pushed?"'

'Exactly that,' he said, confused. 'I pushed my magic towards my wand, and focused on the needle I wanted, and it happened. I feel a little tired from doing it, though.'

Hermione frowned, and resumed practicing, while Harry looked up the reversal to the transfiguration. Several minutes later Hermione smiled at her fully formed pin; Harry stifled a yawn, having forced his quill into a pin and back several times.'

'Are you okay?' asked Hermione, her precise wand movements turning her pin back to a quill.

Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes. 'Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit tired from doing all that.'

'Maybe you're not supposed to "push,"' she said. 'I haven't been, and I don't feel tired at all, yet.'

Harry rolled his shoulders in an attempt to shake off his fatigue. 'I've been pushing my magic all my life,' he said with a half-shrug. 'If I push it into my muscles, I get stronger and faster. If I push it towards my skin, I don't get hurt as easily.' I'd better not say what happens when I push it around my head, he thought. I'll save that for later. 'So, I just pushed it towards my wand, and it helped the spell along.'

'Let me see,' she instructed, leaning closer to his wand. Harry complied, muttering the incantation again, forcing his quill into a needle. 'Your wand movements are terrible, Harry! The half-circle is supposed to be horizontal, just above the quill, and a lot smaller; you twist your wrist clockwise until it's facing up while you're doing the half-circle; and it's Feye-ter-Ah-fuss.'

'Yes, professor,' he grumbled, forcing the pin to revert. Taking a deep, calming breath, Harry tried again, mindful of Hermione's steps. Once again the pin appeared, and Harry felt a lot less of his magic pulled away from him. 'That was a bit easier,' he conceded. 'Seems like the better you are with a wand, the less you have to try.'

'See? I was right.'

Harry narrowed his eyes playfully at Hermione's smug expression, and turned his wand to her book bag. 'Colloportus!' It took a great deal out of him, but Hermione's bag obediently snapped shut, the belt-lock clicking into place.

'Harry!' she cried, tugging at the strap. 'What did you do? Open this right now!'

'Can't,' he said with a mighty yawn. 'Don't know what the charm is to unlock things. You can show me tomorrow when you figure it out. Me, I'm off to bed.'

'Harry Potter, don't you dare leave!'

'G'night, H'rmi'ne,' Harry slurred as he stumbled up the steps. That last charm had drained him completely, but the look on Hermione's face was priceless.

'HARRY!'

His door shut with a small click, and Harry fell onto his bed, not bothering to undress. Before he could properly reach the pillows, he was sound asleep.

Despite his exhaustion the previous night, Harry woke excited for his first day of classes. He hastily stepped into the shower pool, barely allowing the water enough time to spin up to his head before jumping out, the pool's charms drying him completely. Choosing a different set of school robes, Harry dressed quickly and headed down the stairs, his shoulders tingling as the new robes changed to sport Ravenclaw colors.

'I'm so mad at you!' Hermione's voice greeted him as he reached the common room. 'It took me an hour to get that lock to open! An hour! You're so lucky that I had my Charms book out already…'

'Good morning, Hermione.'

'Don't you smirk like that!' she said archly. 'It wasn't funny!'

'If you say so,' he agreed, grinning. 'Let's get to breakfast!' Nudging Hermione in the shoulder, Harry headed for the portrait exit, Hermione grumbling and fuming close behind him.

--//--//--

With that, my first year at Hogwarts had begun. We were handed our schedules, and like all students - except Hermione - we complained. We complained that every course showed up twice a week; we complained that all the practical courses had interminably long double periods once a week; we complained that one of the Astronomy periods was at midnight on a Friday.

Like all complaining students, the professors ignored us.

Classes were a mixed bag for me. Some, like Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense, were painfully easy. Since I could force my spells to work through sheer power, the professors always gave me top marks and House Points for my achievements. Hermione was singularly unimpressed with this, but she earned more than enough points on her own.

I had read so far ahead in Muggle Studies, History of Magic, and Astronomy that the classes were pointless; two seconds of magic and I had the answers I needed. Astronomy did require some math work, but I was perfectly capable of it - even if I didn't like doing it. Ravenclaw was paired with Slytherin for Muggle Studies and Astronomy, so Draco, Pansy and I spent most of those classes chatting quietly once I'd helped her finish her work. Professors Babbling and Sinistra quickly learned that our assignments were always done early and done right, so they never got after us. History of Magic, on the other hand, I slept through; Professor Binns, a ghost, hardly remembered what year it was, let alone who was in his class, so this came to nothing.

The one class where I was always on my toes was Potions.

--//--//--

'Most of you will find Potions exceedingly boring,' said Professor Snape in a quiet but commanding voice. 'Those same people will assuredly have the lowest marks. This class requires rare talent and attention to detail…' Harry tuned out Snape's comments as he finished setting up his small cauldron. Snape had made it clear that he wasn't a nice person, and Harry hardly wanted to get on his bad side from the very first day.

'Potter, what are you doing?' Harry looked up to see Snape staring down at him with a dangerous look in his eye.

'Setting up my cauldron, Professor.'

'And what are you going to be brewing for us, Potter, on your first day of classes?' Harry felt his cheeks heat up, but tried his best to hold the professor's gaze.

'There are instructions for a potion to cure boils on the board, sir. I assumed that it was going to be our assignment.'

'You assumed,' echoed Snape, arching an eyebrow. 'Why did you "assume," Potter? Have you somehow read my mind, and know for certain that the potion on the board is your assignment?'

'It's the first potion mentioned in our year's textbooks,' Harry retorted. 'It's the best guess I could have made.'

'And you know all about what's in the textbook, right Potter?'

'Yes, sir,' Harry said defiantly.

'And you consider yourself rather knowledgeable, do you?'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry, quickly bringing his potions books to the forefront of his mind. Hermione gasped quietly beside him, a look of horror on her face.

Snape grinned evilly. 'Well then, let's see if those books have actually taught you anything. There are enough ingredients in this room for a Calming Draught. I want a batch made to produce at least five doses, all double-potency. Get to work.'

Harry ducked his head and walked over to the shelves of ingredients. The Calming Draught was out of the second-year textbook, but he could recall it well enough. Altering a potion to be more potent, however, was something that was covered in fourth year. Harry seethed internally as Snape began to explain the cure for boils to the rest of the class. It was hardly fair that Harry had been set up with an impossible task while the others got off easy. He could do this, though; he had the knowledge. Hopefully, the experience he had with cooking would help him prepare the potion.

Snape watched him with a critical eye as he gathered what he needed and returned to his desk. Hermione looked mournfully at him, but he shrugged away her concern; he could do this. He began to carefully prepare each ingredient while the water in his cauldron heated. He fell into a rhythm as he worked, mentally cross-referencing his textbooks to be sure of what he was doing. Adding ingredients methodically, he smiled as he stirred the potion, satisfied that it was going well.

He heard Snape as he stalked around the class, barking out corrections to the students as he passed the various worktables. The Ravenclaws seemed engrossed in their work, subconsciously responding to Snape's orders without actually looking up. The Hufflepuffs paid less attention to their potions, and more attention to Snape, cringing whenever he came near one of their tables. Snape seemed to enjoy their fear, and spent far more time near the Hufflepuffs.

'How are you doing?' asked Hermione in a quiet voice.

Harry shrugged, not willing to remove his attention. 'It's working,' he said. 'It should be done in a half-hour or so.'

'None of this was in the book. How do you know all this?'

Harry pondered his answer for a moment, before deciding that being truthful wouldn't hurt. 'The Calming Draught is in next year's book,' he replied. 'The guidelines to alter potions are in the fourth-year book.'

'Fourth-year!' she hissed. 'Why are you doing a fourth year potion?'

'Do you have something to share, Miss Granger?' asked Snape, stalking over.

'Um… err… w-why is Harry doing fourth-year work, professor?' The question was loud enough for the other students to hear, and several whispered conversations broke out.

Hermione squirmed uncomfortably as Snape glared at her. He glanced at Harry's potion, then to Harry, before returning his gaze to Hermione. 'Because he obviously can,' he said. 'Are you looking for more work then? I can certainly accommodate that.' Hermione began to shake her head, but Snape had already stepped over to her cauldron.

'Let's give you a taste of what Potter's doing. You're going to alter this potion to a stronger dosage. Take three more rosebuds and add them. Don't worry about preparing them, just throw them in. Stir three times counterclockwise... be exact, Granger; this isn't breakfast you're cooking ... add the wormwood chips now; use three more than the recipe says - just do it! ... You don't have time in this period to let this version of the potion simmer, tilt your cauldron and whip the potion like you're beating eggs. Keep your head out of the smoke - I said DON'T BREATHE THE FUMES! Faster; Faster! Now we have a five-minute window. Prepare a half-ounce of powdered mandrake root, quickly! ... Good, now add it slowly - too fast and you'll wake up in the Hospital Wing. That's right. Now stir clockwise for five minutes, adding a counterclockwise stir every ten stirs or so. Once the potion is dull green, dip your finger and taste it; it should be very bitter. Bottle as much as you can using the size 4 vials from the counter.'

Hermione was a nervous wreck by the time she was finished bottling her potion. Harry finished his five minutes later, carefully ladling five doses into mug-sized containers. Snape inspected them carefully, looking for the slightest error. After a full three minutes of inspection, sniffing and a quick taste, he nodded. 'These are acceptable, Potter. If Madam Pomfrey agrees, then you will have 10 points for your work, and the school nurse may have other assignments to provide you. Are you completely comfortable with the course material?'

'Err... yes, sir.'

'Good.' With that, Snape turned his attention to the other students' potions, dismissing Harry with a wave. Taking his dismissal literally, Harry packed his equipment into his book bag and walked to the door, with Hermione following right behind.

'I don't like him very much,' Hermione said softly to Harry once they were in the hallway.

'Me neither,' he agreed. 'It's just like regular school, I guess. There's always one teacher that makes your life miserable. At least this time, it isn't math.'

'So… how did you know what's in the fourth year books?'

Harry smiled. 'I had the money, so I bought the textbooks for all seven years. I've read most of them already, and I have a good memory.' Hermione gave him a look of surprise that quickly turned envious. 'Yes,' he answered as Hermione opened her mouth to speak, 'you can borrow them and read ahead.'

Hermione smiled brilliantly, and grabbed Harry by the elbow, hurrying them back to the common room.

--//--//--

Snape's classes were unforgettable. Free lessons in humility and blind obedience, and you just might learn a thing or two about potions.

Those were our classes in a nutshell. Hermione and I held straight Outstandings in all our courses. Hermione accomplished this through hard work and diligence; I accomplished this because I was inherently powerful and had the textbooks floating in my head, so every test was open-book. With Hermione being fiercely competitive when it came to grades, it was natural that we would eventually come to blows over this.

It started in the library, two weeks into term…

--//--//--

'So, how'd everyone do on their transfiguration essay?' asked Draco. Harry smiled; it was a sure sign that Draco had done well, that he would ask to compare grades. Sure enough, a tiny "E+" stood out on the sheet, written in red ink.

Hermione happily produced her essay for Draco to read. 'I got an Outstanding! Professor McGonagall had some very nice things to say about it.' Draco's smile faded a bit, but he took Hermione's essay to look at.

'I got an Exceeds,' Pansy said without looking at Draco. 'I missed a couple steps that I didn't care about.'

'I got Exceeds too. Now, I wonder what Weasley got?' Draco reached over and grabbed Ron's essay right out of his hands, ignoring Ron's cry of indignation. 'Let's see, an Acceptable and a half-scroll of red ink. What'd you write to get McGonagall angry, Weasley?'

'Nothing,' replied Ron, his expression stony.

'Be nice, the both of you,' Hermione chastised. 'If we're too loud, Madam Pince will make us leave.'

'Oh, Heaven forbid that we'd be kicked out of the library,' mocked Pansy. 'Are you in love with books, Granger? Does it put a smile on your face to take the Standard Book of Spells to bed with you?'

'What's wrong with liking books?' asked Hermione, stung by Pansy's sarcasm.

'Pansy,' Harry warned.

'Fine, whatever. There's nothing wrong with books, Granger. Develop a sense of humor, please.'

Hermione huffed, clearly put out. Pansy reached over and inked a large silly face on Hermione's essay, which Hermione quickly snatched away. Despite Hermione's protests at the defacement of her work, Hermione met Pansy's grin with a small smile of her own.

'You never said what you got, Harry.'

Harry turned back to Draco, rummaging through his bag. 'Just a second,' he mumbled. 'There!' Harry handed a slightly wrinkled paper to Draco, the small red "O" apparent to everyone.

'Hmm, two Outstandings, two Ravenclaws,' Ron mused. 'Who'd have guessed?'

'How'd you get an Outstanding?' asked Hermione. 'Your essay was less than half of what I wrote.'

'Still answered the question,' Harry replied with a shrug. 'I didn't leave anything out, so they can't mark me wrong.'

'Don't worry about it,' Pansy said. 'The professors know that boys can't write, so they mark them easier.' Ron and Draco chuckled at Pansy's attempt at humor. Harry smiled, but noted that Hermione looked less than pleased.

Draco glanced between Harry and Hermione, and quickly changed the topic to their upcoming flying lessons. Harry shot Draco a grateful smile, and began to consider what he would say when Hermione confronted him again. Maybe it'll pass, he thought. It's just one essay, after all; our other essays will probably look more alike.

But such wasn't the case; as the week progressed and assignments were given back, Harry noticed that his essays were all much shorter than Hermione's, but he still managed "O's" on all of them.

'It's not fair,' she grumbled as she compared their work in the common room. 'What are you doing that's so different?'

'Not much,' Harry said. 'I just answer the questions, and cite my sources.'

'But… there's no work involved,' she insisted, waving his transfiguration paper. 'Every one of your papers says "It's like this because," and that's it. You don't reason through the solution.'

'Why would I?' asked Harry, a little bewildered. 'The assignment didn't say "prove that the textbook's telling the truth." It said "discuss why the spell won't work on a living creature."'

'Right, "Discuss!" The assignment said "discuss!" You aren't doing that! You're just quoting from higher-year books! It took me five sheets to explain why Fyterraphus couldn't be used on a mole! I cited seven different books! You did nothing!'

Harry sighed in exasperation. 'Look, it's one of the core rules of the Universal Transfigurations. A living creature is unaffected by the nonliving-to-nonliving Universal Transfiguration, full stop. It's also true that all the lesser transfigurations we're learning are derived from the Universals, so that we can learn how the changes work bit by bit. So, it's not a big deal to say that since all our spells are derived from the Universals, they follow the same rules; in fact, there's a direct quote that says exactly that. Since that's true, then you can't use Fyterraphus on living creatures. It's short, it's simple, and it's absolutely right.'

'But you're using fifth year books!' Hermione raged. 'It's not fair that you're writing your assignments with them!'

'Why? You know that there are copies in the library, right? For all it matters, I could have just read up on it in the library and then done my paper. It's not some big deal that I bought the books.'

Hermione screamed in frustration, causing more than a few students to look their way. Harry leaned back a bit, but Hermione was silent, her head down. A tear worked its way down Hermione's face, dropping from her cheek and hitting Harry's transfiguration paper with a small tap.

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly. He wasn't sure why he was apologizing, but he was confused that Hermione was crying. Had he done something wrong?

'It's not you,' she sniffed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. 'I-I just … I don't understand!'

Harry frowned, looking at Hermione's assignment, then his own. 'I think that what Professor McGonagall really wanted was for everyone to understand that you can't affect both living and non-living things with the same Transfiguration spell. Even Ron managed to say that much in the whole four inches he wrote, but that was worth an "A." I gave the exact reason why, so I got an "O." You went out of your way to prove that it's true, and that got you an "O." Pansy and Draco did it like you, just not as well, so they got an "E" and "E+."'

'I hate this school,' she said suddenly, picking up her books and throwing them angrily into her bag.

'Why?'

'Because every time I feel like I've done something right, it's not special at all! I work hard to get my spells right, but you just "push" and do it right away, and the teachers love you! I study for ages to write my papers, and you just jot down a few lines, and get the same mark!

'And it's not just you!' she added, seeing Harry open his mouth to retort. 'It would be so much better if it was, but Pansy can push like you can for some spells, and… and… I feel useless! I hate this place!'

The common room was silent, every other student caught up in Hermione's shouting. Harry looked at her, stricken by her outburst. For the first time, he felt guilty for his abilities; he had never intended to hurt Hermione. 'I just want to go home,' she mumbled, and Harry's heart dropped. She cradled her face in her hands, beginning to cry. Most of the other students had begun to head to their dormitories, and one of the older Prefects was slowly walking over.

'I'm sorry I've hurt you,' Harry whispered, fighting his own tears as he stacked Hermione's papers neatly in a pile. 'I'm sorry I've made you hate school. But I don't hate you, and I'd really like you to stay.' Not knowing what else to do, he stood to leave. As he brushed Hermione's head, her arms shout out, grabbing him around the legs.

'Don't leave.'

'Alright,' he said, maneuvering her arms so that he could sit down beside her. 'I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here.' Hermione loosened her grip enough to let Harry sit, and then tightened her arms again, clinging to his side.

'I'm going to find Professor Flitwick,' the Prefect said. 'He's always good for cheering people up.'

'Thanks,' Harry called over his shoulder as she walked away.

Professor Flitwick, as it turned out, was immensely funny. He was very short, hardly taller than Harry was, but he had such mastery of magic. Harry looked on in awe as entire children's stories were brought to life, acted out by illusions on the table. Hermione laughed and clapped in delight, her tears long forgotten, as Flitwick masterfully conducted his illusions. Dozens and dozens of individual spells were woven together in an intricate manner, and Flitwick was more than able to maintain a witty banter as he narrated his story.

'You should never feel like you're alone,' the tiny professor said as his illusions all bowed and walked through a door, which closed and disappeared. 'If you feel overwhelmed or concerned with anything, I will always be available.'

'Thank you professor,' she said, and Flitwick gave her a small bow.

'You take care of the young lady, now, Mr. Potter.'

'I will, sir.'

'Good. You're both excellent students, but you should take time to relax.' With that, Flitwick bid them goodnight and hopped out the portrait hole, humming a tune as he walked to his office.

Hermione smiled at the closing portrait, her legs still kicking excitedly. 'He's a nice man,' she enthused. 'I like him.'

Harry's gaze drifted back to the table. 'That was absolutely amazing.'

'I'm sorry about before,' she said, looking down. 'I just… lost it, I guess.'

'Don't worry about it,' Harry dismissed. 'Why don't we work on our assignments together from now on? If I know a shorter way to do it, I'll tell you, and you won't have to spend forever on each one.'

'Thanks, Harry. I'd like that.'

The two chatted idly about Flitwick's remarkable display for a few minutes, before saying goodnight. As Harry climbed into bed, he hoped that it would be the last of his issues with Hermione. Flitwick would not always be there to help him.

--//--//--

Everything went spectacularly for the next couple of weeks. Hermione was very into her studies, so we spent most afternoons and some evenings in the library. She was driven to know absolutely everything there was to know about magic and the magical world in general, and it seemed like she wanted to read every single book in existence. I also ended up reading a lot of the books, which is what eventually got me into trouble with Hermione again.

Our friends studied with us, since group efforts usually fared better. Ron was laid back and content to pull "A's" on his work. He spent his free time reading about Quidditch or playing chess, where he proved to be an unbeatable opponent, frustrating all of us repeatedly. He had reached a relative truce with Draco, but they still took their shots at each other whenever possible.

Draco was a more reasonable student, never content with less than an "E-," but not particularly concerned with getting top marks. He spent most of his time establishing his preferred social circle, based on who knew who, and whose parents did what. He was surprisingly interested in Hermione's lineage, since the name "Granger" was new to him. Hermione and I spent a long time establishing a false tree of relatives in France based off of what books we had available. Hermione was uncomfortable talking about her parents, and avoided the topic skillfully. More than once I wondered if something was amiss there, but I wasn't about to bring it up.

Pansy was either a great student or a horrible one. If she enjoyed the class, she was brilliant. If she was bored, other students suffered for her entertainment. Since the only classes she enjoyed were the practical classes - Charms, Defense, Potions and Transfiguration - she spent a great deal of time tormenting Gryffindors for the amusement of the other Slytherins. She never let her work slip below an "A," but the "E's" and "O's" were reserved for the practical courses.

After-school flying lessons were great fun. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were practicing together, and the house Quidditch teams were there to give pointers and show off a bit. As the class progressed, I was tailing Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker. The two of us were having a great time, and I was matching him on everything he did: Corkscrew dives, hairpin turns, a very watered-down Wronski Feint... Finally, after four weeks of school, I had the ultimate form of fun in my hands.

It caught the notice of the Ravenclaw team as well. Their captain, Roger Davies, asked me to show up to practices. I did, and over the month of October I went from newbie-with-potential to reserve Seeker to reserve Seeker and Chaser to starting line Chaser and Reserve Seeker. The other two Chasers - a solid third-year named Bradley and Davies himself - worked with me until we had seamless plays. Chambers, who I'd replaced as a Chaser, made a great Keeper, and we worked him out mercilessly.

Cho Chang was the resident Seeker and was a decent flyer. I have to be honest: I was faster than she was and could make tighter turns, so I would certainly be the better Seeker. Chang herself said as much to Davies, but Roger had a devious plan: I was a great Chaser, so I'd help the team get well ahead in points first. If Cho was completely outclassed by the rival Seeker, or we were behind and needed the Snitch to win, we'd switch. Otherwise, Cho was more than a match for the current Hogwarts Seekers, and the Chaser line could use me more.

Professor Flitwick celebrated my acceptance to the team by getting me a brand-new Nimbus 2000, the best non-professional broom in existence at the time. In addition to my studies with Hermione, I now spent at least one hour a day flying, trying out Seeker and Chaser moves, and just plain enjoying myself. The workout of trying to make a high-quality broom do what you want at near-to-top speeds was also doing wonders for my physique. I was about your average skinny 11-year-old at this point: Adequately fed and watered, ran around at primary school and did a bunch of yard work. I'd never really had to exercise until now.

The muscle pains in the mornings were exquisite, but I just couldn't stay off the broom.

I did manage to shorten Hermione's assignments quite a bit, and it solved her problems for most of October. The problem, as I mentioned before, was my reading. Once I've read a book, I never need to look at it again. Since the same books were used over and over for our assignments, my preparation time kept getting shorter and shorter. As October came to a close, it was a normal occurrence for me to show up to our study sessions with the assignment mostly done. None of the others cared, but Hermione was beginning to show signs of frustration again, and I was far too naïve to understand what I was doing wrong. It wasn't until Halloween that she cornered me.

--//--//--

Hermione was following him.

Harry sighed, recognizing the look on her face. He hadn't seen it in nearly a month; Hermione had been content and their classes had gone well. Now, she once again looked like the axis of the world had broken, and it was his fault.

He hunched his shoulders and sighed unhappily, resolving to get it over with as quickly as possible. He turned a corner and walked down a seldom-used second floor hallway, where he was certain that they wouldn't be overheard. 'What'd I do to you now?' he asked, turning to look at her.

Hermione blinked, and her facial features softened. 'Sorry,' she said. 'You're not doing anything, but… you kind of are.'

'Um… okay?'

Hermione took a deep breath, and pulled out her latest Potions essay. 'Remember this assignment?' Harry nodded. 'We started this assignment at the same time. It took me about five hours over two days to finish, with your help. I watched you starting yours, and you spent maybe an hour on it - like you just sat down, wrote it, and signed your name. I don't think you even looked at any books. What's going on?'

Harry rubbed his face, dreading the potential for conflict. 'Remember what I told you I can do with my magic? Get stronger, stuff like that?' Hermione nodded. 'I can do that with my mind, too. If I've read a book or seen something and I want to remember it later, I just push my magic around my head, and it's right there.'

'I don't understand-'

'Perfectly, Hermione; I can remember everything perfectly.'

'Oh.' Hermione held her hand up to her mouth, her eyes flicking from point to point as she thought furiously. 'So, every book you've ever read…'

'Is in my head,' Harry finished, nodding. 'I'll never have to re-read a book for research, ever.'

Hermione's face contorted weirdly, as though she trying to feel different emotions at the same time.

'I'm sorry,' Harry said, feeling more than a little guilty. 'I know that school's important to you, and that you don't like it when I do things you can't. But I can't help what I have.'

'But it's not fair,' Hermione gritted out. 'You're in classes you don't need to be, you're doing assignments you obviously don't need to do. When it comes time for exams, you don't need to study. When the professors ask you questions, you have the answers right there. To top it off, if you can't do a spell properly, you just push.' Her eyes threatened tears as her voice broke. 'You have everything you need to be successful. I have to work for every single mark I get, study for hours, and more than anything else, I have to lie about who I am so that I don't get picked on.'

'Hermione-'

'Don't! Just, just … leave me alone.'

Harry's heart constricted at the command, but he stepped back and away. It had been the same on the street, where a friend one day was someone to avoid the next. But this was Hogwarts; this was a better place… Apparently not, he decided. Squaring his shoulders, he turned to leave. 'I'm sorry,' he said again, calling over his shoulder. 'I never meant to hurt you.'

She'd apologize, he hoped. She was his friend, his housemate; surely this wasn't something she would hold against him? Try as he might, Harry wasn't able to quash the fear that he had damaged his friendship with Hermione by not telling her sooner. Would it have mattered? Hermione's awfully competitive in classes; maybe it's more important to her.

Harry sat brooding through his Defense class that morning. He stared straight ahead, making no attempt to cover his bad mood. He pushed with all his strength, completing the assignment and spells in record time, so that he could continue to brood. The desk to his right was empty; he had snapped at everyone who tried to sit with him. Even Ron and Draco were sent away with threats and glares. Only Pansy had managed to break through his mood slightly, and she sat to his left.

Soon they were in Transfiguration, and McGonagall shot him worried glances as he sent yet another classmate scurrying to find another seat. He couldn't see Hermione, but he hadn't been looking for her, either. She had sent him away, so he would stay away.

A small motion drew his attention to his right; Hermione sat carefully beside him, looking down at her books as she pulled them out of her bag. Harry's instinct was to take his wand and charm her book open to the correct page, as they always did for each other. His wand was halfway out of his robes, before he stopped, and his shoulders drooped slightly. It was something he would miss, a small part of their daily routine that he shared with none of his other friends. He stuffed his wand away dejectedly and focused on the board ahead.

'Please,' Hermione said in a small voice; her book was still unopened on her desk. Harry glanced over to see her looking at him. A small hand reached out and grabbed the edge of his robes, holding on tightly.

'Page 137,' he intoned, tapping her book with his wand, and the book obediently opened to the correct page.

'Thanks.'

'No problem.' Hermione still hadn't let go of his robes, and Harry slowly began to smile, his turbulent thoughts fading into the background. Maybe everything would be alright.

--//--//--

Ah, how ridiculously foolish we all acted when we were young. Had anything really happened? No, probably not. But at eleven, I certainly didn't feel that way. I clung to my friends with fierce loyalty like the love-starved, damaged youth that I was. My potentially best friend was angry because I had advantages she didn't, and I was petrified that she wouldn't want to be my friend because of it. Thankfully, I was very good at saying "I'm sorry," which Hermione later assured me had made all the difference.

There are some things you can learn about real life in the back closet of a prostitute's apartment. Apologizing can elicit forgiveness for the most amazing things, the least of which are the white lies of children. Hermione called my ability to apologize "mature." I called it a sophisticated act of self-preservation.

Still, Hermione appreciated it, and once she had cooled down, everything was indeed "alright."

Unfortunately, the karma of Halloween reared its ugly head in my direction, and the day got much worse.

--//--//--

'That's right!' Professor Flitwick encouraged, 'just swish and flick, and Wingardium Leviosa. Keep your mind on the feather! If you're not focusing, it's not floating!'

Harry leisurely played with his feather mid air, sending it higher and higher with flicks of his wand. Others in the class were still trying to get their feathers up, though a few were dancing around on desks in a promising fashion. Surprisingly, he hadn't felt the need to push much, though it did take a little bit to keep the feather aloft.

A couple seats to his left, Hermione was attempting to correct Ron, who was quickly losing his patience and his temper. Harry counted his blessings that he wasn't sitting beside Ron today; Hermione would take the brunt of it when Ron blew up, but a small, vindictive part of him was content to let that come to pass. Earlier today, Hermione had made him feel miserable, so it was fair turnaround.

'Mr. Potter, that's marvelous!' Harry jerked his attention to Flitwick, only barely managing to retain control of his feather. 'How many times have you renewed the charm?'

'I don't know, sir. I've just been playing with it, so I've lost count.'

'Have you been saying the incantation at all?'

Harry frowned, thinking quickly. 'No, I don't think so. Just flicked hard at it to make it move around; I did have a solid idea of where I wanted it to go, though.'

'Excellent! 10 points to Ravenclaw! Mr. Potter is casting the charm silently, something we don't really expect from students for a few years yet. Well done!'

Harry blushed, smiled at the praise. Compliments had been few and far between in his life, and it felt good to have someone speak well of him. On impulse, he flicked his wand again, sending his feather down to hover over Flitwick's head, to the tiny professor's delight. Flitwick responded by waving his wand, conjuring dozens of feathers, which then dove at Harry in an attempt to tickle him. Student and professor dueled with each other, using feathers and levitation charms as weapons, while the rest of the class laughed.

'Come on, Ron!' Harry heard Hermione coaxing. 'Win - GAR - dee - um Le - vee - O - sa, small swish this way, and flick towards the feather.'

'I'm already doing that!' he nearly shouted in frustration. 'It's still not working!'

'Maybe you should try picturing the feather differently.'

'Maybe you should shut up, and stop bothering me!'

'I'm only-'

'A loud-mouthed, bossy, good-for-nothing nag, that's what. Shut UP!'

'MR. WEASLEY!' shouted Professor Flitwick, feathers falling to the floor, forgotten. '20 points from Gryffindor for such blatant, willful abuse! You will see me tonight after classes! Ms. Granger, you- Ms. Granger! Wait!'

But Hermione was gone, out the door in a flurry of books and sheets, and Harry heard the echo of a sob as she left. He shot to his feet, looking once at his professor, who nodded, before tearing off after her. Hermione was quite a runner; she was down the hall and nearly around the corner by the time Harry had left the classroom. But Harry was a fast runner, and knew how to be even faster.

Calling on his magic, he tore down the hall, passing students that seemed to be moving in slow motion. Hermione came closer and closer; he finally caught up to her halfway up a staircase, which decided that it was now a good time to move.

'Let me go!' she shrieked, hitting him with every ounce of strength she had. Harry shook his head, unable to answer, catch his breath, and weather the beating at the same time. The stairs locked into their new formation with a shake that caused them both to let go of each other to balance themselves, and Hermione recovered enough to bolt off again, Harry in pursuit.

'Why are you chasing me? Leave me alone!'

'NO!' he shouted, catching up to her at a doorway. She had just managed to unlock it when he grabbed her around her waist, pinning her arms.

'Let go!' she cried. 'I want to be alone!' Hermione tried to pound on Harry again, but with a mighty heave, Harry pinned her against the wall just inside the room, trapping her. Hermione struggled and struggled, before finally breaking down, sobbing into Harry's shoulder.

'Why don't people like me?' she wailed. 'I was just trying to help!'

'I like you just fine,' he soothed. 'Who cares what Ron thinks? You're okay.'

'But you don't need me!' she shouted, shaking against him. 'You're better than I am!'

'But I want to be your friend,' he countered, more than a little hurt. 'Why doesn't that mean anything?'

Hermione stopped shaking for a moment, but the sound of immense growling drew Harry's attention. Towering above them was a massive three-headed dog, easily the size of a double-decker bus. One of the heads huffed out a gout of flame, and six angry eyes glared down at them.

'Oh, shit,' he muttered. 'Hermione, RUN!'

The beast lunged towards them, and Harry knew it would reach them before they reached the door. 'Protego!' he shouted, pushing with all his might as he whipped his wand in a messy vertical circle. A large blue shield of energy crackled into life in front of him, draining him to exhaustion. The massive dog slammed bodily into the shield, but the barrier held, and they were outside the room, Harry staggering badly.

'Shut it!' he called, and Hermione swung the door closed in the dog's multiple faces. 'Colloportus!' he called, sealing the door. Hermione added her own locking charm, and then ran over to Harry as he collapsed to the ground. The sounds of the angry dog could be heard on the other side of the door.

'Are you all right?' she asked, kneeling beside him.

Harry nodded, struggling to his feet. 'I'm fine; I'm just tired. That shield took everything I had.'

'Mr. Potter!' Flitwick appeared at the end of the hallway, Professor McGonagall in tow. 'Mr. Potter, what happened?' The short professor stopped near Harry, while McGonagall went to the door, unlocking it and opening it to see-

'What is this?' Everyone turned to look at the open door. All three heads of the door were growling, gnawing on Harry's still-intact shield like a large chew-toy. McGonagall slowly closed the door, locking it again, and silencing it to rid them of the noise. 'The two of you will explain yourselves, now,' she commanded.

'I ran from class, professor,' Hermione said. 'I ended up here, and Harry followed me. Someone insulted me, and I wanted to be alone, to, um ... to cry. Harry tried to cheer me up, but I tried to hide in that room.'

'The dog lunged at us,' Harry picked up, 'so I cast the strongest Protego I could and we ran out of the room, locking the door.' Hermione nodded.

Flitwick walked over to McGonagall, providing the missing details from the classroom. Harry leaned against the wall, and Hermione stepped towards him, hugging him.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I got us into so much trouble.'

'Nah, don't worry about it. It's not every day you can say you've seen a three-headed dog the size of a house.'

'Cerberus,' Hermione corrected automatically, before blushing and ducking her head while Harry chuckled. Of course Hermione would know what it was.

'You're both alright?' Professor Flitwick asked when he walked back to them. Harry nodded wearily, not letting go of Hermione. 'You're quite the loyal friend, Mr. Potter,' the professor said, chuckling at the pair, 'and that was an exceptional shield charm; couldn't have done it much better myself.'

'That's a lie, professor,' Harry said, eliciting quiet laughter from both professors, and Hermione. 'But thanks.'

'I think that the two of you have seen enough excitement,' McGonagall said. 'Please keep the knowledge of this corridor to yourselves; I don't wish any other students to endanger themselves unnecessarily. Now off to your common rooms; I will inform your remaining professors that you both have the rest of the afternoon off. If you wish to attend the Halloween Feast, you're welcome to, but we can arrange for dinner to be sent to you if you do not.'

'Thank you, professor,' Hermione said.

'Professor Flitwick will escort you to your common room. I would like to speak with Mr. Potter for a few moments.' Harry nodded tiredly, and the two pairs of professor and student parted ways at the end of the hall, Harry following McGonagall to her office.

'I heard some rather interesting information in our first staff meeting,' she said, once they were both seated. 'That shield charm you just cast is ample proof of it. Is it true, then, that you are versed in fourth year material for Potions?'

'Yes, professor,' Harry said, his cheeks reddening.

'And are you as well-read in other areas, as well?' McGonagall nudged a plate of biscuits toward him, and Harry obligingly took one.

'Theory-wise, yes,' Harry agreed between bites. 'I doubt I could actually do fourth-year transfiguration, since I haven't tried or practiced, but I've read it all, yes.'

McGonagall adopted a shrewd look. 'If I were to use the First Universal Transfiguration on you, what would happen?'

'Nothing,' Harry answered immediately. 'I answered this in the first assignment you gave us. The First Universal is for non-living matter to non-living matter. Since I'm a living creature, the base spell wouldn't affect me.' He grinned, and added 'If your aim is off, you might hit the chair and get something, though. You'd have to use the Third and Fourth Universals on me.'

'Very good,' she said, smiling. 'If you're as well-versed in theory as you seem to be, then we're at something of an impasse as to what to do with you. Giving you standard assignments would seem to be a waste of your talents. How ever did you learn so much?'

Harry shuffled his feet, wondering how he would answer the question without drawing attention to himself. 'I don't know,' he said eventually. 'I picked up the books for all seven years, and I've just read ahead. I remember things really well, so a lot of it sticks.'

'I see.' McGonagall raised an eyebrow, looking less than satisfied with his answer. 'A lot of the theory that you seem to take for granted takes several years to impart for good reason. If it were as simple as having students read ahead before attending Hogwarts, then rest assured we would instruct parents accordingly. Aside from theory, however, you do seem to be remarkably talented with magic.'

'I don't know about that,' Harry demurred. 'I talked with Hermione about it, and I seem to have a little more um … power, I guess, than most kids. If I'm having a hard time with a spell, I can just push a little more, and it'll work. Hermione showed me that the more accurate I am with the spell, the less I have to do that, but the first few times, I always push so that it works.'

'Well, that's an unexpected twist,' McGonagall said. 'I'd expect a seventh year to have such leeway with lesser spells, but a first-year? It's unheard of.'

'Sorry,' Harry mumbled.

'Nonsense, Mr. Potter. Don't worry yourself about it. I'll hardly penalize you for your natural talent. None of us will.'

'Except Professor Snape,' Harry corrected. 'He has me working on advanced potions to give to Madam Pomfrey.'

'Are you alright with this?' she asked, leaning forward. 'Professor Snape is well-known for pushing his students, but he cannot force you to do extracurricular work if you're unwilling.'

'No, no, it's fine. It's … nice, I guess, to be working at a higher level. I don't think I could do that in the other practical classes.'

McGonagall rested back, a smile again showing on her face. 'Very well, then. What do you think of the rest of your courses?'

'Well, History, Muggle Studies and Astronomy are like Potions,' Harry said, counting on his fingers. 'I can do the higher-level work, so I'm not too worried about them. Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense … I can probably write any paper you want, but I'm not sure about the spells.'

'Well, you've told me what I need to know. Off with you now, and get some rest.'

Harry walked back to Ravenclaw tower, collapsing into the couch beside Hermione. They chatted amicably about what might happen to Harry's classes, and decided that dinner in the common room was far superior to any potential feast. The thought of getting up off the couch, let alone walking to the Great Hall, made Harry's insides churn.

Shortly after dinner, they were studying Harry's Defense books, when the portal was thrown open and students piled in.

'What happened?' Harry asked loudly, catching the attention of the nearest Prefect.

'Troll's loose in the school,' he said. 'We're all supposed to stay in the common rooms until the Professors deal with it.'

Harry looked at Hermione, and the two of them nodded and went back to reading, switching from the second-year Defense books to third. If Trolls and a Cerberus were common things for Hogwarts, shield charms wouldn't be enough.

­

--//--//--

'It's ready,' they both chimed, standing back and admiring their work. She looked it over, very pleased with the results.

'Let him come,' she said, slipping her arms around each of their waists. 'He'll be in for the shock of his life.'

­--//--//--

A/N: Review please! Chapter 3 overhaul coming up right away!