"Er…?" Percy frowned, bewildered. "Is it you who's acting strange, or is it me?"
When I throw out a question mark, it's not because I've got a problem—it's because I think you've got one.
The headmaster just announced there's danger lurking in the school, and you're asking me why I'm so serious? That's not normal. Harry's way of thinking always feels… off, somehow, compared to everyone else.
"Isn't that pretty normal?" Harry said. "I think this school's always been kind of dangerous. Ghosts join us for feasts, there's a sword hidden in a hat, and you told me the staircases move. Sure, if the distance is short, you can jump across, but someone's definitely fallen before. Before I got here, I thought magical exams might involve dueling professors to the death or some kind of battle royale."
Harry felt like Hogwarts was already a lot better than he'd imagined it would be.
"You thought we'd have to fight professors to the death?" Percy said, incredulous. "This school isn't that brutal. You're not seriously thinking about killing a professor, are you? You're only a first-year!"
Percy couldn't hold back his exasperation any longer—he was losing it.
Harry just shrugged, noncommittal. Sure, he hadn't mentioned Quirrell or Snape by name, but he still figured he'd probably end up facing off against both professors at some point. Especially Quirrell. After two misjudgments, Harry wasn't entirely sure about Snape yet—he needed to dig deeper. But Quirrell? That guy was a confirmed Death Eater, reeking of dark magic. Harry was just playing the long game, biding his time. Otherwise, he'd have taken him down back at the Leaky Cauldron.
Oh, and he needed to find a moment to ask Dumbledore if he knew anything about Quirrell.
"By the way, what's a 'battle royale'?" Percy asked, curiosity piqued. "You mentioned it earlier. Doesn't sound like a pleasant term."
"Battle royale?" Harry hesitated. "It's, uh… students fighting each other… Never mind, it's too gruesome. You're still young—you don't need to know."
Percy, ever the stickler for authority and order, didn't argue. That alone showed how naturally he'd started to see Harry as someone above him, maybe even as an adult.
Just then—
"Before everyone heads to bed, let's sing the school song!" Dumbledore announced loudly.
Harry noticed the other teachers' smiles seemed to freeze.
Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a long, golden ribbon floated out, twisting and coiling like a snake above the tables, forming lines of text in the air.
"Everyone, pick your favorite tune," Dumbledore said. "Ready—sing!"
The entire hall erupted into song:
Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something, please…
The song ended in a chaotic, mismatched chorus.
The Weasley twins sang to the tune of a funeral march, while Harry belted out the lyrics to the Night's Watch Anthem, a song he'd rewritten after reorganizing the Night's Watch troops in his head.
Dumbledore accompanied everyone with his wand, and when the song finished, his applause was the loudest.
"Music," he said, wiping a tear from his eye, "is more enchanting than anything we do here! Now, it's bedtime. Off to your dormitories!"
The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy through the noisy crowd, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase.
Harry observed everything with keen interest. Percy mentioned that, in previous years, Peeves the Poltergeist would always show up to prank the new students at this point. But today, probably because Harry was around, Peeves had to settle for tormenting the other houses instead.
Oh, and besides Harry, there was one other figure Peeves feared: the Bloody Baron, a Slytherin ghost. Unlike the Fat Friar and the others, the Baron kept to himself and had escaped petrification. Because of him, Peeves was a bit more restrained with Slytherin students. In a pinch, students from other houses could threaten to tattle to the Bloody Baron to scare Peeves off. Now, it seemed, there was one more person Peeves would think twice about crossing.
As they chatted, they reached the end of a corridor, where a portrait hung on the wall. It depicted a very plump woman dressed in pink.
"Password?" she asked.
"Dragon slag," Percy replied.
The portrait swung forward, revealing a round hole in the wall.
Harry eyed the painting skeptically. It didn't seem particularly secure—one good hit could probably break it. What was the point of the password or this Fat Lady's guard? It felt a bit… juvenile, like something out of a melodramatic fantasy.
Inside was the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, circular space filled with soft armchairs.
Here, the boys and girls parted ways. Honestly, the boys' and girls' dormitories were surprisingly close—closer than Harry expected, almost like sharing the same building or even the same floor in a Muggle school. The girls headed through another door to their dormitory, while the boys followed Percy.
Harry, Ron, Neville, and two other first-years shared a room.
Ron tried to say something to Harry before bed, but he was too exhausted and soon fell fast asleep.
"Look, over there!"
"Where?"
"Next to that tall redheaded guy."
"The one with glasses?"
"Did you see his face?"
"Did you see his scar?"
"Why does he have scars on his wrists, too?"
"No idea. I heard his forehead scar is from Avada Kedavra, but those wrist scars are even more noticeable. Maybe they're from an even worse curse."
"Is there a curse worse than Avada Kedavra?"
"My great-grandmother told me she saw something like it when she was young. Something called… Avada Lightning Chain, maybe? A spell that can kill a ton of people at once."
"Come on, that's ridiculous. No such spell exists."
"I heard he started killing people when he was eight."
"No way, it was when he was one! It's even written in Modern Magical History."
"Official reports say Voldemort died by Harry's hand."
"I didn't believe that nonsense at first, but after seeing him last night, I believe it."
"People are different, you know. There's a rumor that Harry was born under a prophecy, the Chosen One. He might not even be human."
"Maybe decades from now, we'll be bragging to our grandkids that we were classmates with Harry Potter."
The next day, as Harry left the dormitory, the whispers followed him like shadows.
Students lined up outside classrooms, standing on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of him.
In the corridors, they'd walk past him, then double back, staring unabashedly.
Harry wished they'd stop. He was here to learn, not to hold a fan meet-and-greet. Save that for the evening.
And Hogwarts' layout was a nightmare to navigate. According to Harry's intel, the castle had 142 staircases. Some were wide and grand; others were narrow, rickety, and swaying. Some led to different places on Fridays. Some had vanishing steps halfway up, forcing you to remember where to jump.
Percy thought the school wasn't dangerous? If this were a Muggle school, there'd be a body count by now.
————
Supporting me on Pa-treon to gain early access to advanced chapters and enjoy expedited updates. Your support is greatly appreciated.
pat-reon .c-om/Dragonhair
(Just remove the hyphen - and space, to access Pa-treon normally.)