Barely in time, too, as Draco entered the shower room along with Zabini, just as he was lacing up his trainers. Zabini glowered at him, and Harry pretended not to see, but gathered up the rest of his things, including the old t-shirt which he'd rolled up into a tight ball, and ducked past them.
The common room was quiet, still, though a couple tables had small groups of students at them, going over homework. Maybe Harry - and Teddy - weren't the only ones already lagging behind. Harry was supposed to be in a study group with Teddy, Zabini, and Millicent Bullstrode but he'd missed the first one, last night, due to detention. And he would miss tonight, too. For now, though, he could work more on his essay until it was time to go to breakfast.
Teddy joined him a quarter hour later, giving him another odd look, but he didn't say anything except to double check what chapters they were to read for Binns' class. They worked together in silence until 7:20, when Marcus Flint - Firsties were required to call him "Prefect Flint" - called the room to order and started lining them up to go to breakfast. Since first years were in front, Harry hurried to put his books away and made his way over toward the door.
Draco was first in line, with Pansy Parkinson just behind him, and then Harry. He hadn't had much chance to speak to any of the first year girls, and wouldn't know what to say to them, even if he had, so he avoided her eyes when she turned to peer at him, and barely managed to not offer to show her his lightning bolt scar. It was why most people looked at him like that, after all. He'd had twelve separate requests yesterday alone, never mind the ones on the Hogwarts Express. He hated it, really. It was far harder to hide when everyone stared.
After a moment, Parkinson sniffed disdainfully and faced front again, and Harry let out a breath he'd been holding.
"All right, you lot. Get a move on," said Prefect Flint and they started for the Great Hall. Just on the other side of the portrait, though, Flint put a hand on Harry's chest, making him flinch back before he could stop himself. Flint gave him a mocking smile and leaned in to whisper, "Mind your manners at breakfast, Potter. Try not to make a spectacle of yourself." He jerked a chin at Draco and continued, "Watch that one, if you don't know how to eat proper." And then his hand was gone, and he gave Harry a bit of a shove to catch up with the others.
Harry's face burned. He stared at his shoes the rest of the walk up to the Great Hall, and tried not to think about the fact that Teddy had been right behind him and had probably heard Flint's orders. But like he'd been told, once seated for breakfast, he kept an eye on Draco and followed his lead when it came to using utensils and taking food from the platters. His stomach, however, kept doing flip flops and he had little appetite.
He managed some pumpkin juice - some of the best stuff he'd ever tasted, really! - and a half slice of plain toast, though, and was just deciding whether to pour more juice, or just sit and wait for the other first years to finish, when the sound of flapping wings drew his attention. The "ceiling" of the Great Hall showed a sunny, bright day, but what was really astonishing was the number of owls suddenly swooping in through windows high above. Each of them carried something attached to their legs, or in their talons - letters, small packages and the like.
Harry grinned at the sight. Owl post was so cool! He was very surprised, however, when a dark brown owl with a wingspan wider than Harry was tall, dropped a letter on his plate, then swooped up again and out of the Hall. The parchment, which was folded over once, had his name on the outside, so it was certainly for him. But who would send him a letter? Not the Dursleys, certainly, not after Uncle Vernon's reaction to owl post when the school was trying to send him his acceptance letter.
He broke the thin, green seal - two snakes intertwined - and opened it. The note was very short, with no proper greeting:
Go to the infirmary when you finish breakfast this morning, and have your forehead inspected. I expect to hear what treatment has been applied during your detention this evening. I will accept no excuses.
Professor Snape
Harry frowned over the letter so hard that Draco asked him what was wrong. "Oh, nothing," he lied easily. "I have to go, though. Snape's orders."
Draco's pale brows rose. "See you in the Charms, then."
"Yeah." Harry got up and strode to the end of the table where the Slytherin Prefects were. "I've been told to go to the infirmary," he told Flint, holding up his letter, and got a curt nod in return.
As he made his way up the wide set of marble stairs in the Entrance Hall, he wondered about Snape's directive. Why should his Head of House care if his forehead hurt? This morning, he'd asked if Harry had picked at it, but he'd been scowling, and Harry was pretty sure Snape thought he was lying about the nightmare.