When Harry arrived at his first class, Charms with Professor Flitwick, he waited impatiently for all the students to settle down and for the lesson to begin. The Professor, who turned out to be a short, cheerful little man, took roll call and then commenced his class by explaining the basics of incantations, as well as the crucial importance of wand movements. Everything seemed incredibly complicated, and the vast majority of the students appeared utterly lost in the explanations. Only some Ravenclaws, with whom they shared that lesson, seemed to grasp what he was explaining. Harry, on the other hand, not only appeared to understand the Professor's explanations but also to effortlessly connect them with more complex concepts he had previously read, completing their meaning.
His exceptional aptitude wasn't limited to Charms. In Transfiguration, he was able to transform a match into a needle on his very first attempt. In Herbology, he already knew instinctively how to care for various plants. During Astronomy lessons, it was discovered that he knew the night sky perfectly. And in Defence Against the Dark Arts, he displayed a strong, almost intuitive, affinity for the subject. Whichever way one looked at it, Harry was clearly well-versed in magic, and his abilities quickly became the subject of conversation among the professors during their free time.
"The skill of Mr Potter in his classes is incredible," Professor McGonagall remarked. "Transfiguration is undoubtedly one of the most difficult branches of magic, yet he consistently manages to complete the exercises on the first try, and his essays… they are a pure joy to correct."
"Yes, the same thing happens in Charms," Professor Flitwick added, his voice chirpy. "Even though we haven't progressed beyond some of the simpler spells like the 'Lumos', he shows no difficulty whatsoever. His essays are better than those of many Ravenclaws, and I am completely sure that if he were to raise his level of learning, he would be able to follow along with total ease."
"I don't know what more to teach him," sighed Professor Sinistra. "He knows the subject as well as I do. I am convinced that if we made him take his NWSY Astronomy exam now, he would not only pass but achieve excellent grades."
"Mr Potter has shown such an aptitude for my subject that sometimes I even forget they are first-years and begin to ramble on to more advanced material," explained Professor Irons, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. "He has an almost instinctive knowledge, and even without knowing the spell, he somehow knows what he is doing wrong and how to correct it."
"Herbology holds no secrets for him," Professor Sprout chimed in. "The same thing happens to me as Sinistra… he has such a natural ability."
The professors had gathered with the Headmaster to discuss their new star student, and by now, it had all been praise. The Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, could hardly believe his ears. James and Lily had always assured him that the boy was a Squib, so when he had seen Harry's name on the list of new students, he had almost choked on a lemon drop. He had resigned himself to the idea that Harry's magic would be too weak and his studies mediocre, but from what his professors were saying… If Harry was this versed in magic, how powerful would Brian become? Dumbledore turned to his Potions Master, perhaps the most demanding among his staff, for his opinion.
"I still haven't been able to assess how he acts in his classes… I have not yet had the pleasure of teaching him," Severus Snape drawled, his voice low. "But even so, I can say that his knowledge and understanding of the subject are impressive; I wouldn't be surprised if he became the best of his year, regardless of his House." To the surprised looks, he added, "I had the pleasure of meeting Mr Potter in Diagon Alley… a brief encounter at the apothecary that already showed me his worth. Luckily, he doesn't resemble his parents at all."
"And what do you mean by that?" the Headmaster asked with a sigh.
"Staying within the first-year curriculum will only hinder him, Headmaster," Professor McGonagall stated firmly. "From my point of view, we should move him to a course where his abilities are truly challenged… Such a prodigy should not be ignored. I know Brian, his younger brother, is more powerful, but that doesn't mean we don't take proper action regarding Harry."
"Moving him without knowing the basics would be counterproductive. Besides, we still don't know his real capacity in Potions," the old man countered.
"That's easily remedied, Headmaster," Snape said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Tomorrow I'll have the pleasure of assessing it. I have Potions with the Slytherins, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs; honestly, I don't know why you put all three Houses together."
"I thought it would be the best way to foster some peace in your classes," the old man replied mildly.
"If you want there to be peace, Headmaster, stop putting the Gryffindor and Slytherin classes together. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
"Ah… Severus… One more thing…"
"Yes?"
"You must bear in mind that Mr Potter has a respiratory condition called asthma," said the Headmaster. "He has had it since he was six years old, after accidentally falling into a frozen lake… I'm telling you this because the fumes given off by the potions could trigger an asthmatic attack."
"What should I do if that happens?"
"Mr Potter should have a small Muggle inhaler in his rucksack, to begin with… that is where his medicine is. Then, if the attack is a serious one, take him to the infirmary. Don't take these fits lightly, Severus, they could cost him his life."
The next day, the first-year Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin students had their first Potions lesson, and it was a double period. While the vast majority of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were not at all eager for the class to begin, the Slytherins, and Harry, were impatient to get started; it wasn't every day that one could be taught by one of the best Potions Masters in the world.
As soon as they entered the classroom, Harry sat down next to Jonathan and Athenea, though right behind Neville, Hermione, and another red-haired, freckled boy. He waited anxiously for Snape to arrive. Harry masterfully ignored the tension in the classroom, as well as the angry glances exchanged by the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Being the only one watching intently at the door for the Professor's arrival, he was also the only one who wasn't startled when Professor Snape burst into the room with a dramatic slam of the door.
The speech he delivered upon entering was largely intimidating. It was clear that it had been meticulously written and rehearsed to both intimidate students and to pique the interest of those who loved a challenge, or were ambitious enough to desire what it promised.
"Today, we shall be brewing a simple potion to cure boils. The ingredients are in the cupboard, and the instructions are on the blackboard." Harry was about to retrieve his ingredients when Snape stopped him. "Potter," he drawled, "kindly move your things to Mr Malfoy's side." At the boy's questioning gaze, he added, "I have been informed of your condition, and I wish to keep a close eye on you, just in case."
Harry lowered his head, embarrassed. He had deluded himself into thinking that no one would mention his illness, but it was clear his parents weren't going to keep quiet about it. Silently, he gathered his things and moved to the Slytherin area, next to the blond boy who looked at him with an expression somewhere between horror and abhorrence. Despite that, Harry placed his things and, after collecting the ingredients, began working on his potion under Snape's watchful eyes.
The Professor, for his part, found himself largely ignoring the majority of the class in favour of the first-year Hufflepuff. He had had two reasons to separate Harry from his companions. The first was the one he had told him: he wanted to have him close in case he suffered an attack. The night before, he had gone with Professor Sprout to speak with Madam Pomfrey, and what she had explained to them had made him realise how serious and dangerous Harry's condition was. The second reason was that he wanted to observe how adept Harry was at Potions, and in this way, ascertain if his aptitude warranted him being prepared for advanced courses.
For the moment, Snape looked satisfied with how Harry had arranged his ingredients; they were placed by their properties rather than by the order of placement. This alone demonstrated a profound knowledge in the field; it took many years, a lot of practice, and extensive study to achieve such a feat. Harry's movements were precise and without hesitation; the preparation of the ingredients was impeccable, and best of all… he did it without once glancing at the textbook or the blackboard. Yes, the boy had a lot of potential.
Keeping a watchful eye on Harry, Snape moved from table to table, criticising the Hufflepuffs, berating the Gryffindors, and favouring his own House… but Harry felt a strange sensation when Snape said nothing negative about his work; in fact, to his surprise, he did the opposite, praising him alongside Malfoy and awarding him two points for a perfect potion.
"Well, Potter," Malfoy said as soon as they exited the classroom. "Although I never expected it… it's been good to work with you… you're rather good at Potions."
That had been an understatement; even though it was obvious that the blond Slytherin not only liked Potions but had also received prior training. But even so, Harry's potion had been far superior to his own. Yes, one could easily see that Malfoy was impressed, and perhaps, for the first time in his life, felt a flicker of admiration.
After the lesson, Harry had a free period, or rather, no more lessons that afternoon. The usual thing for any first-year, especially a Hufflepuff, was to remain in the familiar areas of the castle. But he didn't want to do the same as everyone else; Hogwarts was steeped in magic, a magic he was eager to explore, understand, and assimilate.
Letting himself be guided by his senses, the boy wandered through the castle, discovering new corridors, staircases, and classrooms… it was as if Hogwarts itself were beckoning him to uncover its secrets, a call the boy could not refuse. Following its call, he discovered trick steps, secret passageways thick with cobwebs, and hidden rooms.
There were hundreds of secret corridors that led from one end of the castle to the other, thousands of trick steps that the boy meticulously memorised never to fall into. And secrets as beautiful as a magnificent inner garden, teeming with hundreds of beautiful and rare plants—some were even thought to be extinct! Harry knew immediately that this had been someone's refuge and passion long ago.
Harry quickly realised that it would take many years to uncover all the secrets the school had to offer. What's more, he was convinced that if Hogwarts didn't wish to reveal them, one could spend a lifetime wandering its corridors and never uncover all its secrets… in fact, he would swear that even his father, who boasted endlessly, had not been able to find, for example, this very garden. The title of best connoisseur of the castle, it seemed, belonged to others, for Harry got the fright of his life when, passing through one of the secret passages, two hands fell on his shoulders from behind.
"But look what we have here, Gred," said a voice behind him. "One of the little ones!"
"I see, Forge… It seems someone is following in our footsteps, and rather quickly, too! We didn't find this passage until the end of last year," said a voice identical to the first.
Harry turned around slowly, incredibly scared. There, behind him, stood two boys of about thirteen years old, red-haired and identical; they were twins, and they wore the naughtiest expressions Harry had ever seen – and he had seen many. Their badges identified them as Gryffindors, of course.
"Well, well… What are you doing here, first-year?" asked one.
"Exploring." At his answer, the twins exchanged a Machiavellian grin.
"I think we'll get along," said the other. "I'm Fred Weasley, and this is my twin, George. Gryffindor-based pranksters. And you?"
"Harry Potter."
"Well, Harry… we're glad to have met you. If you have any problem or need help with anything, don't hesitate to call on us," George said. "We're at your full disposal."
"Do you offer your help to every first-year you meet?" Harry asked, surprised.
"No," George chuckled. "We usually play pranks on them, or get them even more lost."
"Then?"
"I don't know… you have a certain something… that reminds us of ourselves. Besides, if Hogwarts is so eager to show you its secrets, it's because you're trustworthy," Fred chuckled. "And it's only right that we help each other out. Now, we're in a bit of a hurry… Filch is on the seventh floor, and we want to leave him… erm… a 'little gift' in his office."
Harry chuckled and said goodbye to the twins, who disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. Harry was sure that Hogwarts was also showing its playful side by revealing part of its secrets through them. He left the secret passage and continued to explore the main corridor; it was already very neglected, as if even the house-elves had forgotten its existence, and perhaps they had. If it weren't for the fact that he knew nothing truly bad could happen to him at Hogwarts, and that the school itself was guiding his steps, Harry would have been very scared of that place. Instead, he was utterly intrigued… His curiosity was a truly pronounced aspect of his personality.
What he discovered was a long corridor that didn't seem to lead anywhere. Curiously, there were no doors along its length, nor any paintings, giving it quite a sinister appearance. At the end of the corridor, he could see a rather basic wooden door, to be honest, but as he drew closer, he discovered it was heavily imbued with magic.
With a trembling hand, he tried to push the door open, but just as he touched it, a jolt of magic ran down his arm, making him quickly pull his hand away. That had hurt! He was about to turn around when the door opened silently, a clear invitation for him to enter. Cautiously, he stepped inside, and as soon as he crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him, making him yelp. At the same instant, several torches along the walls sprang to life, illuminating what was clearly a magnificent room, and the boy gasped.
The place was magnificent. It was a large living room, sumptuously decorated in green and blue tones, with the most luxurious furniture he had ever seen. On one side, there was a large fireplace that, when lit, would surely offer immense comfort and warmth. Just in front, there was a huge sofa along with a couple of very comfortable-looking armchairs. The entire room was carpeted, making him itch to take off his shoes and feel how soft it was. There was also what appeared to be a central coffee or study table, and several bookshelves laden with books and other objects.
Communicating with this main room were three more doors. Guided by curiosity, he opened the first, and when he saw what lay beyond, his eyes lit up: it was a library. He reluctantly left the unexplored library and went to the next room: a Potions laboratory. He needed a great deal of willpower to abandon it and look at the last door: a bedroom, and not just any bedroom, but an incredibly luxurious one. It was quite full of cobwebs and dust, but nothing that couldn't be easily cleaned. Yes, he had found his own little secret refuge, a place to disappear and find quiet.
Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's office, a meeting was taking place between Albus Dumbledore and the Potters concerning their eldest son. Considering that the couple had believed for years that the boy was a Squib, it was now very difficult to explain what he had to tell them.
"Well, Albus, what did you wish to discuss?" asked Lily Potter.
"Harry, of course," the old man replied, as if thinking otherwise was unthinkable.
"What has he done now?" James asked with a sigh.
"What do you mean, James?"
"That for you to call us, he must have caused some mischief, and a rather significant amount at that."
"Would that be so strange, or so bad?" the old man chuckled. "I remember well that whilst you were at school, you and your friends got into quite a bit of trouble… In fact, no one has yet broken your record for the number of times they've visited my office. But no, he hasn't gotten into trouble… the ones who usually get into trouble are the Gryffindors and the Slytherins… not the Hufflepuffs."
"HUFFLEPUFF?" James bellowed, dumbfounded. "My son is a Hufflepuff?"
"You didn't know?"
"No… Harry hasn't written to us… although I suppose Remus did," Lily said, as if it were the most normal thing, which, in itself, it was. "Well, if he hasn't gotten into trouble, why are we discussing him?"
"You told me Harry was a Squib," Dumbledore began, "and I trusted your judgment. Obviously, both you and I were mistaken."
"Well, Harry is a wizard, so what? His magic will be so fragile that he'll barely be able to perform any spells…"
Dumbledore cut off James's speech with a simple wave of his hand. Then, without a word, he produced a series of parchments and passed them to James; after that, he simply stared at them.
"What is this, Albus?" Lily asked.
"These are the reports from each and every one of the school's professors; all of them concerning Harry," Dumbledore explained. "In every one, it states the same thing: that Harry possesses exceptional magical abilities, and they strongly recommend that he be advanced several courses until he obtains a suitable level of challenge for his talents."
"Albus, this joke is not funny," James said very seriously.
"It's no joke. You may read them; you will see that I am not deceiving you."
"But that's impossible. Brian is the one with strong skills, not Harry!"
"No one is saying that Brian isn't more powerful than Harry; only that Harry's skills are greater than most, and that it would be counterproductive not to act upon it. I'm going to heed their advice and move Harry to a higher year. The professors have agreed to conduct intensive classes so that by Christmas, he'll have completed the first year's curriculum."
"We have nothing to say in this decision?" James objected.
"Don't you agree? It's the best thing for him."
"Of course I do, Albus," Lily interjected, cutting off her husband. "It's just that James and I were caught by surprise, nothing more."