CHAPTER-11 : THE BEGINNING PART-11
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He was astounded when Professor McGonagall changed her desk into a pig… but to be honest, he didn't think it was that useful. How often would he need pork that desperately? Harry had already practiced their first transfiguration, so completed it flawlessly, much to Hermione's chagrin. The bushy-haired girl huffed and looked down at her pointy, matte-grey match. It was most certainly still made of wood, and not particularly sharp. Hermione tended to lecture as much as possible, and even those who sat far away from her were not particularly safe. It annoyed Harry to no end.
The class everyone had been most looking forward to, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Unfortunately, Quirrell's lessons didn't live up to the expectations. He once felt a pinch behind his eyes during the class and nearly fell out of his seat, much to Malfoy's delight. Harry looked around for who could have poked at him, but saw no one. He had to assure himself that Legilimency was rare, and he doubted the stammering Quirrell had the talent. That aside, Harry was always worried he would smell like garlic the rest of the day after being in that class and he occasionally felt his scar give a painful throb.
He had been excited for potions, but it seemed that Professor Snape had taken an immediate disliking towards him; although, he couldn't imagine what he might have done wrong. Professor Snape, like Professor Flitwick, started the class by taking a register. Unlike the diminutive Professor however, he paused at Harry's name only to make a harsh comment or two.
Professor Snape finished calling their names and looked up at the class. His eyes were dark. He asked Harry a series of questions which he had no answer for. He resolved to look up the answers later though. He would master potions.
Harry met the giant Hagrid once or twice in the Halls and always stopped to say hello. He always made sure to smile politely at the large man during meal times, even while the other students gossiped about the latest break-in to Gringotts.
Harry decided that his favorite room was the library. It was massive. On his first visit he had stopped to ask the librarian everything he could think of, so he would know where to go. She glared at him and made sure he knew not to use magic near the books, but was far politer once she believed he was sufficiently cowed. Harry liked to believe that she had favored him for asking about her library, but he might have just been reading into things.
The biggest surprise was Daphne Greengrass. She would occasionally walk with him in the halls with her friend Tracey Davis, the freckled girl from the boat. She would also opt to join him in the library on occasion, and sit with him while he studied. When he found an empty room to practice his spells in, she made sure to stop by frequently. She occasionally asked for small pointers regarding the casting of spells but soon learned he was useless for the theory, even though he was top of the class in terms of casting. It was odd that she would meet with him. He found himself thinking about it a lot
Your wand movement and incantation are perfect for the spell." He was trying to walk her through the needle transfiguration.
"Then why isn't it working?" She gave him a glare before turning back to her second match stick. The first one was a little too… singed, to work with. Enough so that they had decided to just start again.
He felt her frustration alongside a tide of more tangled emotions.
[A building…a girl who looked like Daphne but had shorter and slightly darker hair... a tawny owl]
She's homesick.
He realized.
Harry had felt that quite a bit from students around the castle, and found it a strange concept. Sure, he sometimes missed his cupboard, but not the building. Not the people who lived there, certainly.
Harry looked at her in concern. She might be his first friend – he wasn't quite so ignorant as to not realise that much – it was the why that drove him mad... She seemed smart, and rarely thought about his scar, at least that he could see, and made an effort not to stare at his forehead.
"You're distracted and not focusing on the spell. You're thinking of the end result without picturing it changing." He thought she was going to snap at him for a second. She instead took a deep breath and pointed her wand at the stick, waving it in the prescribed motions. The transfiguration sort of worked, and Daphne squealed excitedly. It was certainly better than Hermione's transfiguration earlier.
"It's better than Grangers," she whooped, as if in agreement.
But Granger did it partially yesterday.
Harry didn't say it. Hermione Granger annoyed Daphne as much as she did Harry.
Harry picked up the match and inspected it. The shape hadn't changed all that much, but it was definitely metal. It wasn't as accomplished as his own, but it was good. He set it back down.
"Finish it. Focus on narrowing the end and putting a small hole for a string." She looked at him. She had already been pulling out another matchstick from a box.
"Or start from scratch," he said quickly, not wanting to actually tell her what to do. She giggled at his behavior and Harry felt certain that he made a mistake.
She's laughing at me.
She finished her metal match before starting on a new one.
"Do you miss your home?" He asked her, he wanted to try and help, even if he was worried endlessly about making a faux pas.
She nodded. "I write to my sister and mother, but it's not the same as actually talking with them. They're family, you know?" She immediately looked horrified as the words left her mouth and winced, pre-empting his reaction.
He laughed openly though, an actual laugh. He shook his head. "No, I can't say I do." He was still smiling, and could feel the relief radiate off her.
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