Harry was not a morning person.

You'd think that after a year of waking up just as the sun rose he'd be used to it by now. To the behest of both Kaia and Perenelle, there was nothing Harry hated more than having to wake up before 10 A.M.

And Ravenclaws, it seemed, had the inane tradition of waking up half an hour early.

" Morning, firsties! Rise and shine! There's nothing worse than being late to your first class. " A cheery, fifth year prefect yelled. Behind her, an army of bells hovered through the air.

Harry groaned, twisting through the sheets and ripping the blanket over his head. The sound of footsteps faded away. Harry closed his eyes. Then, shrill bell rang obnoxiously beside his ear.

Harry flinched away from the sound with a yelp. He groaned when his knee met the cold, hard wooden floor. Glaring at the still ringing bell, he ripped his wand off his bedside table. The bell began to fizzle and ashes slowly flittered down to a heap on his bed. With a wave of his wand, the ashes vanished.

" Did you just silently set that bell on fire?! " A voice hissed. Harry winced as he sat up. Merlin, it was way too early for that question. He looked up to see Terry standing on the other side of his bed. Harry groaned inwardly. Merlin, he was awful at keeping secrets.

" It's not that hard. I just had a lot of practice, " he protested weakly. Terry's lips thinned and the boy took a deep breath.

" Non-verbal casting isn't that hard. Right.." Harry wanted the ground to swallow him up. Thank God the Hat hadn't placed him in Slytherin.

" My Uncle taught me. You just need to focus a lot. " Terry shot him a sceptical look. Anthony Goldstein gave him a sympathetic thump on the back.

" He's Harry Potter. " Goldstein said dismissively as he walked past.

Harry held back a groan.

" I'm gonna take a shower. " He grumbled.

It was way too early for this.

"Why in Merlin's name do we have to wake up so early ?! " He groaned, gesturing the the bare hall. The other tables were only half-filled, while Ravenclaw was nearly full. "There isn't even any food yet! "

As he soon as he said this, plates of food appeared on the table one by one.

Terry grinned. " Well, Ravenclaw has that enchanted knocker thing, and it would be a huge pain in the arse to have to answer a riddle everytime someone wanted to leave. It's easier to go out in one big group than go one by one. " Harry blinked at him, feeling slightly dumb.

Padma giggled beside him. " Are you sure you're awake? " She teased. Terry slid a plate of pancakes across the table.

" Eat up, mate, " Terry advised, " some food will wake you up.

Harry took a bite, barely able to swallow when hundreds of owls flew into the Great Hall. He squinted, one snowy white owl standing out from the rest. Hedwig swooped down and a letter flitted through the air, narrowly avoiding the bowl of cereal as it landed right beside his plate.

Hedgwig circled him slowly, before landing gracefully on the table.

" Thanks, girl. " He murmured, tossing her a slice of bacon with one hand while the other tucked his letter into his pocket. " What's our next lesson? " He asked as he took another bite.

Terry shrugged. " We should be getting our schedules soon. I just hope it's not Potions. They say Professor Snape is an absolute menance to everyone except Slytherins. " Harry nodded, chewing sceptically. His mother had written about Snape. Although they fell out when they were older, they were incredibly close when they were younger. Surely Snape couldn't be as bad as Terry was making him out to be.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder why they stopped being friends.

Padma leaned in. " He's supposedly much more bearable to Ravenclaws though.. Well compared to how he treats Gryffindors at least. "

" You want some advice on Snape? " A nosy second year beside them asked. They nodded eagerly. " Every year he quizzes students—first years or otherwise. If you're lucky, you won't get called. Unless you want to take your chances, you should read ahead. "

" How far ahead? " Padma bit her lip nervously.

" At least five chapters. "

" And if we don't? " Harry questioned. The second year glanced him over, his gaze resting on where Harry's bangs covered his scar and Harry fought the urge to fidget.

" Let's say you get called. Best case scenario: you lose a few house points; worst-case scenario: you're completely humiliated in front of everyone. "

Harry gulped audibly and Padma looked like she was going to faint. Terry only chewed on his pancake, albeit rather thoughtfully.

" I will be passing out the class schedules now. Please ensure you have one before leaving the Great Hall. " Flitwick called out at the end of the table, holding a thick stack of papers. One by one, they soared through the air, landing in the laps of students according to year.

Harry scanned his with such focus that he could have burned a hole right through the paper.

" Thank Merlin, no potions until Wednesday! "

They all grinned at Padma's ecstatic exclamation. Around them, people chatted, some cursing, some looking as relieved as they were.

Harry turned around, wanting to find Daphne and Draco at the Slytherin table. But instead, he found his gaze drawn to two black, beady eyes at the High table. Harry felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he realised that Snape was glaring right at him.

Glaring, not staring. The man sneered at him and Harry ripped his gaze away.

Thank Merlin there was no Potions today.

" Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. " Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned. " She said it in such a way that Harry saw several Ravenclaws nodding, looking entranced.

With only a wave of her wand, her desk shifted into a big and back again. " Now, let's start with Emogphy's first law.." A piece of chalk zoomed to the clapboard, writing furiously as McGonagall began her lecture.

After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match to turn into a needle. Terry at once began, practicing the wand movements while Harry still scribbled over his paper, still trying to finish writing the notes. He wasn't used to using a quill and as a result his notes were made up of messy, uneven scribbles.

He picked up his wand, glancing over when Terry cursed. Harry watched as Terry tried again, only for the match to change colour from brown to grey.

" Maybe you could try to be a little less tense? " Harry suggested. Terry eyebrows furrowed and he loosened his shoulders. Harry moved the other boy's elbow just an inch to the left and adjusted his wrist. " Okay, now try."

Terry said the spell with a swish of his wand. The matchstick shimmered, turning into a shiny, gray needle

Feeling accomplished, Harry turned to his own matchstick. " Mutatio Acus, " He said with a swish of his wand and the matchstick turned into silver needle.

" Potter, " he heard McGongall say over his shoulder. " May I see? " He nodded and handed the needle to her. McGonagall brought the needle close to her face, turning it over in the light. " Excellent work, Potter. And you as well, Boot. " She gave them each small smile as she set the needle back on the table.

" Did your Uncle teach you that spell too? " Terry asked when the bell rang. Harry swung his bag over his shoulder as they walked to the door.

" Yes, though my Aunt did teach me stuff too."

" Wish I had a cool Uncle like yours. " Terry grumbled. " All I've got is my Great Aunt Dierdre. "

Harry's nose wrinkled, remembering how Nicolas would often surprise him with duel while he was distracted.

" We can switch if you'd like? " He offered jokingly. Terry only shook his head, mumbling about ungrateful nephews and overpowered Chosen Ones.

The rest of the classes were focused on the theory. Harry spent most of the ignoring the stares that followed him from class to class, as well as the the many curious gazes of various Ravenclaws.

Ravenclaw's are surprisingly terrible gossips, or at least when it came to Harry they were. News of his performance in Transfiguration had already reached the Slytherins. Harry could feel their cold, appraising gazes on him all day. The Slytherin's whispers stood of from the rest; they were sharper, more cutting.

It was nerve-wracking.

Everywhere he went there were whispers and stares and honestly, did they think he couldn't hear them? A professor even squeaked when he called out Harry's name. A few people had laughed but almost everyone had turned to look at him, their eyes filled with a complicated mess of emotions Harry didn't bother to figure out.

He missed home. He missed Kaia and Perenelle and Nicolas—hell, he even missed the house-elves. He found it slightly alarming how attached he had grown to these people; how huge his world had expanded from a small cupboard to..well, them. He didn't expect everything to feel so unfamiliar without Kaia's constant, reasurring presence or the comforting weight of Perenelle's hand on his shoulder. How alien lessons felt from Nicolas' lectures and occasional jokes.

Harry almost wrote to them about it, but decided against it. In the Flamels' letter, Nicolas mentioned that they were planning a research in Peru. Harry didn't want to interrupt them. So, instead he looked at the big calender that hung over his bead and circled the 20th of December with a bright red marker.

Only a few months to Christmas break, he could survive until then.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. Although it was colder down there than the rest of the castle, the jars of floating, pickled animals that lined the walls reminded Harry a bit of Nicolas' own potion room, and helped to ebb of the nervousness the was slowly building up.

Of course, the same anxiety came back in full force when Snape paused at his name, and for a second Harry thought he would react just like Flitwick did but there was an odd, mean glint in Snape's eye that Harry recognised in Dudley's once, and he knew it was going to be much, much worse.

" Ah, yes, " he said softly. " Harry Potter. Our new-celebrity."

Snape continued calling names, but the tension seemed to linger in the air. Ever so often, Snape's gaze would drift back to Harry. Harry would only look away and fiddle with his quill under the table.

Then, Snape began to speak. His words were quiet, barely above a whisper but they grabbed everyone's attention in a vice-like grip. It was then Harry started to see what his mother saw. Severus Snape reminded him of Perenelle when she delved too deep into an Occlumency lecture.

" Potter! " Snape sneered suddenly and Harry snapped his head up. " What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? "

All eyes were on him as Harry tried to swallow past his dry throat. " The—the Draught of Living Death—sir, " he added hastily when Snape's glare heat even more.

" Where would I find a bezoar? " Snape asked, the silence making his voice reverberate slightly across the stone walls.

Harry could make out Padma's pitying gaze amongst the sea of faces starting at him and if anything, it made him feel worse. Harry kept his gaze downwards, wiping his clammy hands on his robes. " In—um. In a—"

" If you can't do something as simple as answer a question, Potter, I'd hate to see you brew an actual potion, " Snape sneered, his black, beady eyes narrowing in contempt.

" I'm sure detention would help rectify that. "

Harry stood in front of the potions lab, glaring at the door in distaste. Snape had actually given him detention. Over what, Harry wasn't sure. He knew the answer to the question, if Snape just hadn't cut him off he could have answered it.

Harry didn't exactly know why he stuttered. He never liked being the centre of attention, especially when it was in front of big groups of people. Maybe it was because he had spent too much time alone with only the Flamels and Kaia for company, maybe it was something else.

Either way, he hated it. It was one of the reasons why he tried hard to blend in in Middle school. He remembered feeling slightly sick with everyone's eyes in him. That and Snape practically breathing down his neck made him panic. Harry had spent the whole lesson a jittery, anxious mess.

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and opened the door, knocking as he went inside.

" Potter. " The ends of Snape's lips curled. " It's about time. You'll be keeping Longbottom company tonight. " He gestured to a row of cauldron, each one covered in grime. " Clean these up—no magic allowed— and when you're done you're free to go."

Harry looked at the other boy. Longbottom was short, not short as him but he was somehow managing to look even smaller than Harry. He was looking at anywhere except Snape as he wrung his hands nervously behind him. All in all, his behaviour didn't seep very Gryffindor-like.

" I'll be leaving shortly. Do not leave this room, and no magic allowed. " Snape said before hurrying out the door, but not before giving each of them a stern glare.

Harry saved his eye-roll until Snape was fully out the door. With a small sigh, he made his way to the cauldron's, taking a rag and one of the two buckets of soap with him, Longbottom following shortly after him.

For once, Harry was grateful that he had so much experience in cleaning. The cauldron weren't that different from scrubbing the pots and pans back the Dursleys, and before he knew it, he was already on his third cauldron.

Longbottom, who had only just finished cleaning his first cauldron, stood up to get a new one. As he made his way to the front of the potions lab, his foot collided with the bucket of soap. The bucket tipped over and soapy water spilt onto the floor. Some even managed to reach Harry, soaking the edges of his robes.

" Sorry! " Longbottom flailed, his face red and flustered. " I just—"

" It's fine, " Harry assured him. Taking out his wand, a quick vanishing spell got rid of all the soap on the floor.

Harry looked at Longbottom's bucket. It was almost empty and definitely wasn't enough to clean the rest of the cauldrons. " We'll need more soap, " he muttered himself as he duplicated his own bucket. His bucket was only half full, but it was the most he could do and it was better than nothing.

The door slammed open. Harry shoved his wand into his pocket. Snape's eyes narrowed at him and Harry mentally cursed.

" Potter. I said no magic— "

Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, only for Neville to cut him off.

" It was my fault, Professor. I spilled all of my soap, he was only trying to make more soap. " Longbottom said in a steady voice that surprised Harry. The boy's timid and clumsy reputation preceded him. But now Hardy couldn't see a single hint of timidness.

Snape eyed them in distrust. " Very well, " He conceded, and Harry let out a breath of relief. They went back to cleaning the cauldrons, though much faster now, each boy wanting to get out as soon as possible.

Time seemed to go much more slowly. Padma and Terry were probably playing Gobstones with the rest of their year mates and Harry was itching to be with them, to be anywhere else but here. He could feel Snape's glares burning a hole into the back of his head, and frankly scrubbing cauldrons wasn't how he imagined he'd spend his Friday night.

Finally finishing, Harry spared Longbottom a sympathetic glance as he got up from the floor. The other boy was only halfway through his last cauldron. Upon seeing Harry finish, Longbottom started to scrub harder, his brow furrowing in concentration.

" A word, Mr. Potter. " Snape called out as he got up from his desk and gestured for Harry to follow him. Harry couldn't stop his grimace as he followed Snape out.

Closing the door behind him, Harry's pace increased to a half jog as Snape practically glided across the stone floors, his robes billowing around him in a dramatic fashion. Snape led him through the halls, twisting and turning and never once slowing down, even as they went up the stairs. By the time they stopped in front of a large gargoyle, Harry was panting slightly.

" Acid Pops, " he drawled and the gargoyle shifted to reveal a stone staircase. Snape got on the staircase, Harry following closely behind him but before they could take another step, the staircase moved, slowly winding them up to the top.

At the top of the staircase, there was a large brown door. Snape rapped on it, once, twice before entering. Harry paused, waiting for Snape to enter, but the man only sneered, rolling his eyes and hissing, " get in, Potter. "

Harry walked in slowly, the many magical trinkets and paintings that lined walls catching his eye.

In the centre of the room was Albus Dumbledore, sitting behind a wooden desk, smiling graciously at Harry.

" Please have a seat, " he offered, blue eyes twinkling merrily. Harry sat down, Perenelle's warning coming into mind as he readied his Occlumency shields.

Albus Dumbledore didn't look anything like a threat. With his bright, colourful robes and silver beard, Albus Dumbledore strongly reminded Harry of one of those Santa's who greeted people at shopping malls. No matter how Harry tried, he couldn't see what Perenelle was so worried about.

" Lemon drop? " The Headmaster offered, slightly nudging a crystal bowl filled with sparkly, yellow candies across the table. Harry shook his head after a moment of hesitation. He rather liked lemon drops.

" Mr. Potter, it has come to my attention that you were adopted by Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. " Dumbledore smiled gently at him. " They are dear friends of mine, as were your parents."

Harry's head perked up. " You knew my parents? "

Dumbledore nodded as he continued. " They were old student's of mine who kept in close touch after they graduated. When they passed, they a valuable heirloom under my care, " he paused to take out a brown package, sliding it over carefully to Harry. " I was going to give it to you along with your Hogwarts letter, but I was under the impression you still lived with your aunt. "

Harry's mouth was dry. " Thank you, Professor. What is it? " He asked, turning the package over in his hands. He squeezed it slight.

" It's a cloak. It's been passed down for generations, from father to son. I'm only sorry I couldn't pass it to you sooner. " Dumbledore explained, looking at Harry earnestly.

Harry felt something in him give way, and he couldn't help but lower his guard. " It's fine, sir. "

Dumbledore nodded rather solemnly. " If I may ask, how did you come to stay with the Flamels? " He asked lightly.

Harry faltered. Perenelle's warning and strongly in his mind, but Harry couldn't help but doubt it. He looked down at the package in his hands. Dumbledore could have kept the heirloom. The Potters were fairly wealthy and powerful, a Potter heirloom was nothing to look over. Dumbledore could have kept it, but instead he gave it to Harry.

However, Harry could count with one hand the number of times Perenelle had been wrong.

" The Dursleys dropped me off at an Orphanage when I was eight. Perenelle and Nicolas saw me doing magic in Muggle London and decided to take me in."

Dumbledore seemed at a loss of words for a few moments. " I'm glad Nicolas and Perenelle found you, " he said earnestly. Harry's shoulders relaxed.

" Did you ever hear from the Dursleys? "

Harry froze for just a moment, before covering it with sad smile. " Not since they dropped me off at the Orphanage." Then He leaned back, stretching his arms and yawning. " Sorry, Professor, but could I head back to Ravenclaw? "

" Of course, forgive me, my boy, I hadn't noticed how late it getting. " Harry thanked him with a sheepish smile. He forced himself to get up and walk away much slower than he would like to. Hopefully Dumbledore bought it and his sudden escape didn't seem too suspicious.

" Harry, " Dumbledore called out and Harry stilled. " If you ever need it, my door is always open to you. "

Harry turned and made a show of clutching the package closely to his chest. " Thank you, sir. "

He hoped his smile wasn't as stiff as it felt.

A/N:

Harry hating being put on the spot just resonates with me. English Oral exam is a horrible thing and whoever invented it is an asshole. The last bit with dumbledore was very difficult to for me so I hope dumbledore isn't too OOC.