Quick Author's Note: This chapter is cursed. Three different times my MW quit working and deleted all my edits.

"Three things cannot long stay hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth."

- Buddha

Chapter Eleven:

"Well done Harry," Prefect Warrington sauntered over just as Harry's head was drooping. He nearly fell asleep in his eggs before he caught himself and jerked his head up and tried to open his eyes as wide as he could.

Last night he'd had a mountain of homework and when he'd finished his dreams had been terrible awful things. He'd woken up more than five times throughout the night and each time his scar had felt like it was on fire. But now, in the warm light of day, Harry could only remember a high-pitched laughter and the feeling of madness blistering his skin. "Morning," Harry replied groggily, pushing his eggs around.

"Well done about what?" Theo asked from beside Harry as Warrington made Blaise move over so that he could sit directly across from them. "What did you do now?"

Harry muttered something unintelligible and Warrington laughed, pushing a mug of steaming coffee to him. "Drink up, you're going to need all the energy you can get. Flint's just told me, I'm on the team too – a beater. It's my job to make sure the other team's seeker is too harassed to focus and to protect you from the same thing."

Theo turned to Harry with wide eyes, "You made the Quidditch team? But first-years never make the house team."

"It's just a tryout," Harry mumbled as he took a sip of the bitter concoction that scalded his tongue. "Ach, that is not coffee."

"It's got a Pepper-Up potion I swiped from the infirmary in there," Warrington informed him with a sly smirk. "After you drink that you should be good to go for the day. Reluctantly, Harry took another large gulp with a grimace. "And he's right, it's just a try out but Madam Hooch told me all about how you saved that Gryffindor and you can't possibly be worse than Higgs. The only time he's ever caught the snitch was when I knocked the Hufflepuff seeker off his broom."

Harry gave a loud groan and tilted the mug in his hand, watching the steam curl before him. "I need like three of these," he said aloud to no one in particular. "I have Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Quidditch, detention, and Astronomy. By the time I get back to the common room, I'll have a mountain of homework. I'll be lucky if I get to sleep at all tonight."

Theo and Warrington shot him pitying glances and the Prefect tried to joke, "Drink up Potter, sounds like you'll need it."

When Warrington left, Theo scooped more eggs onto Harry's plate. "You'll need the energy," he said, "and don't worry about the homework. If you sleep tonight you can wake up early tomorrow and finish it during our free block."

"It's surreal to think I actually care about homework," Harry groused grumpily. "Before Hogwarts, I never considered it a priority. Now, here I am worried about not having enough time to do it."

Theo hummed in agreement before switching the conversation, "So, what do you think Professor Quirrell will have you be doing for detention? I still can't believe you got away with cursing Malfoy and then confessed."

Harry had to bite his tongue because he too couldn't believe it either. It had been one of his stupider moments and now when he looked back, hoping to befriend the strange professor made him cringe. "I have no idea," Harry responded honestly, "I'm just hoping that by that point, I'm able to stay awake."

Much to Harry's displeasure, Draco Malfoy had been released from the Hospital Wing and had been waiting outside of the Transfiguration classroom with his two trolls and Pansy. His hair had grown back and the only evidence of Harry's handiwork were the large pockmarks, deep purple rings all over his face. When he caught sight of Harry and Theo he pushed Pansy away and glared. But, just as Harry was getting ready for yet another round of Malfoy's arrogance, the boy lifted his lips in a sneer and walked past them – stopping just in front of Ron the Gryffindor who was flanked by two other Gryffindors.

Harry hadn't even noticed them coming up behind them.

"Malfoy," Ron spat out his name like Draco spat out mudblood. "Heard your own house can't even stand you – what's it like, being hated even by other slimy snakes?"

The two boys behind Ron snickered and, much to his surprise, Harry found his spine stiffening as the welcoming speech to Slytherin lurked dangerously close to the surface of his mind. When Malfoy faltered, the sneer on his lips dangerously close to failing, Harry stepped up to Malfoy's shoulder and his own lips curled. "You've obviously heard wrong. Malfoy and I were practicing our curses – but since you seem so interested maybe we could practice on you instead."

Harry didn't know who was more surprised but he felt Theo at his side and heard him inhale sharply – Malfoy, on the other hand, kept cool and his eyes hardened once again. "Harry Potter practicing curses?" Ron's eyes flashed angrily. "Never took you for a Dark wizard."

"Unlike some people Weasley," Malfoy drawled as his sneer transformed into a smirk, "Potter here actually has magical talent."

It took biting his tongue to keep his expression passive as Ron turned red and opened his mouth to shoot off a biting retort none of them would ever hear. At that moment the door to the classroom swung open and a tabby cat prowled out. "We should get inside," Theo told the group, "I've heard Professor McGonagall is a monster and I don't want to find out what she'll do if we're late."

"She definitely looked like a mean old hag," Harry agreed as they turned from the Gryffindors and stepped around the cat to enter the classroom. "Not someone I'd want to make angry."

"I heard she once took a hundred points from Slytherin when she caught a student out of bed," Pansy Parkinson offered up hesitantly, glancing nervously at Malfoy who didn't seem to care one way or the other that she was there. "Just so that Gryffindor would win the house cup."

"I wonder if we look her in the eye – you think we'll turn to stone?" Malfoy asked and the small group burst into laughter.

Even Harry laughed as he sat next to Theo in the middle of the classroom. The cat followed them in and hopped up onto the desk, sitting stiffly as it watched them. "Potter," Malfoy turned in his seat from beside Pansy, "Weren't your parents Gryffindors? Think she'll have a soft spot for you?"

"I doubt it," Harry shook his head, "you didn't see the way she looked at me. It was like she was trying to set me on fire with her mind."

"Oh please, Harry," Theo nudged his shoulder with a smirk, "as if Professor Snape would let the cow do that."

Pansy's eyes lit up as she leaned back against Theo's desk, "Who do you think would win in a duel? Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall?"

The group went quiet for a moment, considering and contemplating, before they all unanimously called out, "Professor Snape."

"McGonagall sure looks like a mean old hag but she's a Gryffindor," Malfoy drawled out confidently. "Professor Snape is well versed in the Dark Arts – you know he actually wants the DADA job? I couldn't think of a person more qualified to restructure our lessons into something actually decent but father says that Headmaster Dumbledore keeps refusing him."

Harry hadn't known that but he also found that it didn't surprise him either. Professor Snape had the demeanor of a wizard you didn't want on the wrong side of your wand. "Still," Harry sighed almost wistfully, "I'd pay to see a duel between McGonagall and Snape. I bet it'd be brilliant."

They all agreed such a duel would be well worth any spectator fees but other students began filing through the door and they all turned their attention to waiting for the Transfiguration professor. The Gryffindors took the left side of the room while the Slytherins sat on the right, evenly paired now that Malfoy had returned from the Hospital Wing. It was only once everyone was seated that the cat on the desk moved.

Harry watched it jump off the desk and his eyes widened as he watched the cat transform, in mid-air, into Professor McGonagall. "Great Morgana," Theo whispered from beside Harry, sounding every bit as frightened as Harry felt.

"My name is Professor McGonagall," she said, her lips turned down into a severe frown and her eyes glittered in anger as she swept over the class, narrowing on the small group of Slytherins who she had been listening to. "Transfiguration is one of the most difficult branches of magic, as such, any fooling around in my class and you will find yourselves not welcomed back. This is your only warning."

Harry gulped as her eyes landed on him, hard and furious. "Can anyone tell me what the four branches of Transfiguration are?"

This time, when Granger's hand shot into the air, Harry was relieved. He didn't want Professor McGonagall's fury directed at him. "Yes, Miss –?"

"Hermione Granger, ma'am," Granger beamed under the attention and then sat up even straighter. "The four main branches of Transfiguration are: Transformation, Untransfiguration, Conjuring, and Vanishment. However, there are also various sub-branches like: Human-Transfiguration, Trans-Species Transformations – which can include Cross-Species Switching (which is really quite fascinating), Human Transformations, Switching, and Summoning."

She said this all very fast, much to the bewilderment of not only her peers but also to Professor McGonagall whose scowl had turned up into a genuine smile. Harry didn't miss the way the Professor's stern eyes cast a glance at him and he scowled at being compared to the annoying girl who sounded like she swallowed her textbook. "Well done, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall praised with a fond smile, "ten points to Gryffindor."

The look Granger shot Harry made his jaw clench.

The class only got worse as it progressed. Granger was constantly called on and her long diatribes were awarded points even as the rest of the class groaned. Even the other Gryffindors were scowling by the time Professor McGonagall handed out matchsticks. Weasley had taken to mocking Granger, much to the amusement of the Slytherins, and when Harry turned from his freshly transfigured needle to help Theo – Professor McGonagall swooped down on Granger again. "Miss Granger, what an excellent transfiguration," she held up Granger's needle and awarded even more points to Gryffindor.

Harry glared at his own needle, feeling as though he had lost even when he hadn't intended to be playing.

Herbology was barely any better. Granger's hand was always in the air and the professors had taken to the know-it-all with bright smiles and eager eyes. Harry had never been one to raise his hand in class. He knew the answers, of course, but with Dudley in the room, Harry had always preferred to remain silent unless called upon. By the time Herbology ended and Gryffindor had earned more than thirty points, however, Harry was actually considering raising his hand – and dealing with the awkwardness – just to wipe the smug look off of Granger's face.

All of Slytherin was in a foul mood by the time they took their seats in Potions. Harry, Theo, and Malfoy were all scowling as they claimed their tables and the only consolation was that the Gryffindors seemed to hate Granger as much as they did. Professor Snape swooped in – not saying anything about Theo and Harry sharing a cauldron – and instead took in his angry snakes with curiosity shining in those obsidian orbs.

"Can anyone tell me," Professor Snape spoke quietly and yet somehow, it seemed to draw in all of their attention better than when Professor Sprout yelled out her questions. "what the main ingredient in the Forgetfulness Potion is?"

Harry very nearly burst into flames when Granger's hand shot into the air. He was so busy glaring at her that he nearly fell off his stool when Theo elbowed him in the ribs. To his surprise, Professor Snape was studiously ignoring Granger and Harry, though awkward and hating himself for it, raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Lethe River Water, sir," Harry replied, feeling an intense amount of satisfaction as Granger's bright smile crumpled.

"Correct," Professor Snape nodded, "and can you inform the class on how you properly gather the ingredient, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded, "It's best collected in crystal vials under the sun at its highest point – at midday, sir."

"And what is the best way to prepare the Mistletoe berries for this particular potion?" There was something challenging in Professor Snape's eyes that made Harry pause and reconsider regurgitating the textbook as Granger loved to do.

Because the book called for them to be dried and ground into a medium-fine powder. But - Harry's mind began to think about other, alternative ways, as Granger's hand shot up into the air – was there a better way? Professor Snape ignored the annoying swot and waited for Harry. "To crush them freshly plucked sir," Harry answered cautiously, "you'd need about eight instead of four, but if you strain them, using the juice instead, that would make the potion stronger as the Mistletoe and the Lethe water mixed better?"

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow, "Are you asking me or telling me, Mr. Potter?"

Harry's spine stiffened as he sat up straighter. "Telling you, sir."

Much to his relief, Professor Snape nodded. "Very good, Mr. Potter. Fifteen points to Slytherin for such innovative thinking." His tone was dry and sarcastic – as if they should all already know this - but Harry felt his lips curl into a proud smile and he flashed his teeth at Granger. Who had a delightfully puzzled frown on her lips.

Professor Snape moved on, calling on Malfoy as he studiously ignored Granger's ever-waving hand, and the class progressed. Harry left with his shoulders back and a smile curling his lips as the group of first-years made their way to the Great Hall. "I don't think I've ever disliked someone for knowing an answer," Harry grumbled as they navigated the labyrinth of dungeon corridors.

"Tell me about it," Malfoy mused from beside Harry and Theo, much to their surprise. "Granger seems to make it her life's work to frustrate those around her."

Theo and Harry shot each other glances but said nothing about Malfoy's sudden presence. "Every time her hand raises I swear I want to throw my book at her," Theo nearly growled. "It's like – it's not even that she knows the answer – it's how she's either wanting to prove she's better than you or waiting for you to fail. Morgana's tit, she's a nightmare."

It really wasn't a surprise when they entered the Great Hall and found Granger eating alone, looking absolutely miserable at the Gryffindor table. Theo and Harry took their seats, once more surprised when Malfoy took Harry's left-hand side. "Hello, Harry," Tracey Davis looked up from her charms tome as the three boys sat down in front of her. "Theo," she continued but then paused with an odd look, "Draco."

By now it was no secret that Harry had been the one to curse Malfoy and even Harry was a bit bewildered by the blonde's presence. Malfoy spared her only a nod before he once again returned to Granger, "I don't know what she's trying to prove. Everybody knows she only a…" he caught himself and Harry felt his muscles tense, "a muggle-born."

There was a tense silence as the other's waited for Harry's response. "She'll never be anything special," Harry agreed after a moment, "and she'll never make any friends if she keeps acting like this."

Everyone let out a silent breath of relief and Harry felt a sort of comradery fall between him and Draco Malfoy. They were both silently willing to comprise. Granger wasn't dirty or contaminated but she was, Harry had to admit, never going to be anything spectacular in the hierarchy of witches and wizards. Just like his mother, nothing was wrong with muggle-borns per se, but they were the less powerful and Harry finally felt a sense of peace with that. If Draco could admit muggle-borns weren't dirty, foul things and actual people – then Harry could admit they were the less powerful.

"Alright Potter," Harry looked up from his mostly finished supper and found Flint standing over him. "You ready?"

With a hesitant nod, Harry stood. "Catch you guys later."

Following after Flint and a sandy-haired boy who he guessed was Higgs, Harry heard Malfoy questioning Theo about what was going on. He was lead out of the Great Hall and out of the castle, down the front lawns and over to the Quidditch pitch. "You'll be trying out for the Seeker position," Flint informed Harry as they walked, ignoring Higgs' furious expression. "Seekers are the most important players, Potter, because if you catch the Snitch, the game is over and you win us an extra one hundred and fifty points."

Harry absorbed all the facts Flint threw at him as they entered the Quidditch Pitch and found it empty. There were two brooms laying out and Flint motioned to them, "Alright you two, get up there." Flint pulled a small, shiny golden ball from his pocket and Harry looked at in fascination, it merely sat there for a moment before large, delicate wings unfolded and began to beat so furiously that they became a blur. The Snitch hovered over Flint's hand before it took off into the sky and Harry followed it with his eyes until it was much too high to see.

"Best out of five," Flint told them as they mounted their brooms, "winner gets the Seeker position."

The air felt wonderful in Harry's hair after being cooped up in classes all day. He took a moment to just enjoy the feeling of flying – to let the stress of the day fall away until there was nothing but him and the open sky. "GET TO SEEKING POTTER!" Flint called from the ground, breaking Harry's delighted smile into fragments of frustration as he spotted Higgs circling the pitch already.

The first time Harry caught the Snitch, Higgs had been searching near the hoops at the far end of the field and never even noticed the glint of gold near the Ravenclaw stands. But the Snitch was tricky and liked to make a fool of those who could not spot it. The second time Harry caught it, he had had to fly straight at Higgs inconspicuously as the Snitch had taken to flying over the boy's head. Said boy was utterly furious when he realized it had been within his grasp the whole time and he had kicked Harry so violently that Harry had nearly fallen off his broom.

The third time Harry caught the Snitch in a dive that Higgs was too far behind to catch up. Harry had spotted it first and chased the Snitch across the pitch and down near Flint. He had come to a spiraling stop as he handed the Snitch back to Flint. Higgs had been nearly ready to draw his wand when Flint pronounced Harry the winner but much to his relief, Flint had pulled his own wand. "You really want to curse Potter for being better than you?" Flint growled threateningly. "You gotta get through me first."

Higgs had tucked tail and ran, but not before he leveled Harry with a nasty glare – the promise of retribution glittering in his eyes. Flint turned back to Harry with a sharp smile, "Welcome to the team Potter," he said, pulling a thick book from his pocket and shoving it at Harry. "Read that, it'll explain the game. Oh, and practice is on Fridays at six, don't be late."

By the time try-outs were over it was nearly seven which left Harry little time to celebrate his new position as he had to run clear back up to the castle and up the stairs. By the time he reached Professor Quirrell's classroom, it was one minute till seven and Harry barged in, afraid he was late and unable to breathe. Professor Quirrell had jumped nearly three feet in the air when Harry had burst in – red in the face and heaving loudly.

"Sorry – Professor –" Harry gasped and tried to suck in lungfuls of air even as his chest felt like it were on fire. "Quidditch – long – run."

"I take it you made the Slytherin House Team then?" Professor Quirrell inquired. Harry could only nod in reply as he sank into a chair, utterly exhausted and trying to calm his racing heart. "Congratulations Mr. Potter, though next time I do expect you here ready to work. You have already wasted five minutes trying to regulate your breathing. Are you ready to begin?"

Harry's head was spinning but he nodded and hauled himself up off the chair with nothing but sheer force of will. His body ached and protested but he stood straight and tried to keep his heavy eyes open after the adrenaline in his system faded. "Very well, the Shield Charm I will be teaching you is the most basic one – however, given that you are only a first year, I do have concerns that even this is beyond you. We will see. The incantation is 'PrOH-te-gOH' and because this is a charm, your wand movement will be Pauper's fifth, though I doubt you have even heard of Pauper yet. So, pay attention, I will show you."

Harry forced his eyes as wide as they would go as Professor Quirrell stepped next to him and whipped his wand in a wide but startlingly exact loop that didn't close properly. Harry unholstered his own wand and mimicked the movements. "No, no," Professor Quirrell tutted, "You must keep the flourish that Charms are known for without being sloppy. Bend your wrist not your hand, this bone here," Professor Quirrell ran a finger down the outside of Harry's wrist and his body went warm, making it extremely difficult to focus, "is your Ulna, it should curve under your Radius as you loop your wand."

Harry tried again, fighting to keep his eyes open. His entire body was buzzing and content, like he was back in front of the fire in the Slytherin Common Room. He desperately wanted to curl up and sleep but he forced himself to focus, to think about how wrong he had been about Professor Quirrell – who was actually teaching him advanced magic! He had sworn he'd be a studious, hard-working student and now he had to live up to that.

"Yes exactly," Professor Quirrell nodded in approval as Harry tried once more to twist his hand as he'd been shown, "but remember to keep your wand movement short – it should be a sweeping circle not an oval."

Harry tried once more and when Professor Quirrell gave him a small, approving smile none of the aching in his tired body mattered. "Very good, Mr. Potter. Now try it with the incantation. You should ideally think of your circular wand movement as three separately divided pieces. At the top, you start with PrOH, at the lowest portion of your wand movement should be the soft te, and as you come up and close off your circle you should end with gOH."

It was only then that Harry realized he'd been missing something blatantly obvious from the very beginning and he felt both extremely embarrassed and puzzled. "Professor, you said the Shield is a Charm, why does it use a counter clockwise wand motion like a Transfiguration?"

"Ah," Harry was rewarded with another small, approving smile and Professor Quirrell's shoulders straightened out as he stood tall. "For most Charms, intent and creativity are key to success. However, for Shield Charms, the magic is less about creativity and forgiving swooping motions. The intent is still a very large factor, in all magic, however, there is also a considerable number of other factors, such as viciousness and wand power – which, as I am sure you are aware of by now, are both very big factors in Transfiguration."

Harry nodded, soaking up the knowledge and once again practicing his wand movement. "So, it is both a Charm and a Transfiguration?"

Professor Quirrell hummed thoughtfully with his head cocked to the side before he said, "I suppose you could think of magic as a spectrum. The more precise and logical magic is Transfiguration and it would be on the left. The more artistic and flexible magic is Charms and it would be towards the right side. Shield Charms lay somewhere in the middle, encompassing both Transfiguration and Charms. Magical Protection is a branch of magic that is entirely its own, however, at Hogwarts, it is watered down and clumped in with Charms."

"But why is it not its own class?" Harry looked up at his professor with a frown. "Magical Protection sounds like a much more useful class than flying."

Professor Quirrell looked down at Harry with a puzzled look, "I thought you enjoyed flying, Mr. Potter. Did you not just become the youngest seeker in a century?"

Harry flushed hotly under the scrutiny and rubbed the back of his neck. "You know about that?" He gave a weary sigh and leaned back against the desk, relaxing his aching muscles in the warmth of Professor Quirrell's company. "I was really excited when I heard we had flying lessons, but then I learned it's flying on a broom and not, you know, flying. I really don't care much about Quidditch or sports in general really. I was just kind of told to do it."

Professor Quirrell moved to stand opposite of Harry and leaned back on a desk, crossing one leg over the other under his purple robes. "So why then, do you not refuse the offer?"

Only the fact that his professor looked genuinely confused stopped Harry from biting out a harsh laugh. "I'm not exactly popular amongst my peers Professor," Harry admitted with weariness bleeding through his tone. "Most of Hogwarts won't stop craning their necks to look at me but they won't talk to me and I only have one friend in my own house. Most of them are leery of me too, though they hide it better."

"So, you think that by playing for the house team, your fellow Slytherins will like you more?" Professor Quirrell's head was cocked to one side and he was leaning forward slightly, studying Harry as if he couldn't quite grasp what he was hearing.

"When you say it that way it sounds lame," Harry groused, the flush of cheeks darkening. "It's not that I really need friends. I've never really had any before so I don't mind being alone much. But I guess I was hoping that if I won a few games people would start seeing me and not Voldemort or war or whatever it is they see when they look at me."

Professor Quirrell inhaled sharply when Harry said it, everyone always did. Voldemort's name was like the 'M' word in the Dursley house. No one liked to speak of it, but Harry was never one to be scared of a name. "I guess it's foolish really, I just don't want to be known as the toddler who defeated him. I don't really see any reason to be proud of the fact that a wizard went mad and destroyed himself. It's all just sad and I want to forget it ever happened but Voldemort just keeps appearing everywhere – my wand, my house, my friend. Sometimes I can't stop thinking about if he sat in the same chair as me or checked out the same book, one night I couldn't sleep because I kept wondering which bed had been his in the Novice dorms."

With a heavy sigh, Harry looked at his shoes, completely mortified by the stinging in his eyes and furiously blaming it on how exhausted he was. "Other times I can't help but think about how he's all alone out there somewhere, lost to some kind of madness and all of his loyal followers in Azkaban. Most of the time I just wish I could stop thinking because I can't do anything. I can't even fix my bloody cauldron."

Professor Quirrell laughed, soft and airily, making Harry look up. "Fix your cauldron?"

"Neville Longbottom melted it Potions class – he's such an idiot!" Harry explained with a scowl. "I've been looking into Alchemy to fix it but all I ever find are documentation of discoveries not how to actually do Alchemy."

It infuriated him how Professor Quirrell's lips twitched in amusement but then he leaned in with a conspiratorial grin and said, "Mr. Potter, Alchemy is not taught outside of the Guild. You must first apply to become an apprentice before you may learn its secrets."

Harry very nearly screamed in frustration. All week he had been searching and Professor Snape had known it! He had known and he had let Harry dig through dusty tomes on the search for a Panacea and the creation of the legendary Philosopher's Stone – he had let Harry waste all that time when he should have just ordered a new damn cauldron. Did he like to see Harry suffer?

"Go to bed, Mr. Potter," Professor Quirrell gently pushed Harry's sagging body towards the door. "I will see you next Wednesday at seven and I do expect you to be fully alert next time."

Harry nodded, his eyes heavy and his body sagging under the exhaustion. "Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Mr. Potter."