Chapter One: A Chance
Harry double-checked his essay, looking for errors. It wasn't his best work, but he hadn't had much time after his first attempt had been ruined. He hoped he still got good marks. If he wanted to return to the Dursley's this summer, then he needed the good grade in addition to his good behavior.
Once he was satisfied, he pushed his chair back from the desk and stood. He stretched with a cat-like grace and was rewarded with a series of pops as he strode down the aisle of desks. He didn't stop until he reached the teacher's desk at the front.
He stood there a moment, waiting to be addressed by his instructor before tentatively asking, "Sir?" to catch the man's attention.
The chestnut head that had previously been bent over a pupil's red-marked essay looked up, his warm, brown eyes meeting questioning green ones.
"Where would you like my essay, sir?" Harry asked.
The older man blinked a moment before craning his neck to look around the dark haired boy before him and meet an otherwise empty classroom, all desks abandoned.
"Has the bell already rang?" the young teacher asked in surprise.
"Yes, Mr. Alexander. It rang about 15 minutes ago," Harry answered dutifully.
The teacher, Mr. Alexander, looked up at Harry.
"Then why are you still here?" he asked. His features melted into a baffled expression that made his 27-year-old face look almost childish.
"I needed to finish my essay," Harry replied with a blush. He found this teacher particularly attractive and when his face held cute expressions like this, Harry's stomach filled with a flock of fluttering butterflies.
"Didn't you work on this last night? This assignment was meant to be homework." Mr. Alexander's voice was kind, yet firm.
"I worked on my essay, sir, but I tripped this morning and it fell into a puddle of mud. I had to start all over again." Harry looked down at his feet.
Mr. Alexander's face grew serious. "Has Trevor been bothering you again? Was he the one who tripped you?"
Harry gulped and nodded to the floor. He continued to study his shoes until he heard his instructor sigh. Harry looked up cautiously.
"I guess I will accept your essay, then. I should probably have a talk with Trevor..." At this point Harry shook his head furiously.
Mr. Alexander rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Why don't you want me to talk to Trevor, Harry?" he asked in a weary voice.
"I don't want you talk to him because it would only make things worse. In his mind, I would have to be punished for tattling," Harry replied softly.
The young teacher just sighed once more, before steeling his face with a determined expression.
Harry slumped his shoulders. That look meant that whatever Mr. Alexander said next would be final. There was no way anyone could convince the man otherwise.
"Harry," Mr. Alexander started, "we both know that you shouldn't be here..."
Harry looked at the man in puzzlement. What did he mean by, "you shouldn't be here"? What was wrong with talking to his teacher after class? The only reason it would be inappropriate would be if he had discovered Harry's crush... that would be embarrassing. But how could he have found out? Harry didn't think he was obvious and he hadn't told a soul. He hadn't even written it in the book he was always carrying around; he wrote everything in that little notebook. His classmates often teased him, calling it his "diary", but it wasn't anything like a diary or journal. Occasionally, he would record his thoughts and emotions in blunt honesty, but nothing of real significance. Most of the time he used it to write poems and stories, often with his feelings hidden between the lines. But back to the question at hand, what did Mr. Alexander mean?
When the brown-eyed man caught Harry's look of confusion, he decided to elaborate.
"Harry you are the best student in school, you only ever fight in self defense, while your classmates would do anything for a fight, you don't make a nuisense of yourself, and you write better than some people who have books published. That is a great feat for a 15-year-old. You don't need to be here. St. Brutus's isn't the type of school a person like you should attend. You deserve to learn in an environment where you can be challenged and put your talent for writing to good use, and I think a have a way for you to do just that."
Harry's mind was reeling. He had never been complimented like that in his life! He had never really questioned his reason for being sent to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. He had been in hundreds of fights in primary school and that was enough for him to be shipped off to this wretched school. Never mind the fact that he had only started two of said hundreds of fights.
"I... well, thank you... I mean no one has ever..." he stammered, until, "...wait a minute! Did you just say you have a way to get me out of here?!" He stood up straight once again, eyes shining with hope.
Mr. Alexander gave him a kind smile that made Harry's heart beat just a little bit faster.
Harry's face brightened considerably.
"What do I have to do? Where would I be going? When can I leave?" he asked in one breath, his mouth going a mile a minute.
Mr. Alexander chuckled.
"Breathe, Harry, breathe! It's not a for sure thing you can leave."
Harry's face became troubled. What if he wasn't allowed to leave? He bit his lip. He would do just about anything to get out of this hellhole.
"I'm sure you will be leave if you really want this," Mr. Alexander said in an effort to calm the boy before him. "I have received a letter from Hogwarts School for the Gifted and Talented. Hogwarts is a school of the elite. Only the very rich and very talented are accepted to attend. Tuition itself could buy a large home, not to mention the specialized supplies required for the prestigious school. Hogwarts is accepting applications for a scholarship to study at their school for two years. If I'm not mistaken, you have two years until you graduate. If you are granted the scholarship, you could learn there until you graduate. Not only would you be expanding your horizons, but you could also escape Trevor Parkinson and his band of bullies. What do you think," he asked, almost out of breath.
Harry's shoulders slumped once more.
"There is no way I could get in," he said, dejected. "Why would they let a boy attending a school for incurably criminal boys into their school, the most prestigious and expensive in the country?"
"Harry," Mr. Alexander said, a reassuring smile on his face, "they don't even look at your record unless you are in the top ten. If you do make the top ten, then there is an interview where you could win the heart of the school. I'll even write your teacher recommendation and let them know about your special case."
Harry's spirits raised a little.
"How do you get into the top ten?"
Mr. Alexander smiled widely at Harry's curiosity. Maybe he would be able to get Harry out of here.
"Well, you have to write an essay based on the prompt they give you. There is also a survey you would have to answer. A panel of teachers will pick and rank you according to your answers and your teacher recommendation. Would you like to give it a try?"
Harry thought it over for all of two seconds before blurting out his answer.
"Of course! What do think I am, stupid? I don't have anything to lose."
Mr. Alexander was surprised by Harry's outburst, but not as shocked as Harry himself. Harry's eyes widened comically in horror.
"I'm so sorry about that, sir," he apologized. What if Mr. Alexander decided not to do his teacher recommendation?
"That's quite all right, Harry," Mr. Alexander said with a laugh. Harry's expression was simply hilarious. His eyes were wide and his mouth was opened slightly in surprise at what had popped out of his mouth.
"I'm sure you're anxious to get started," he said as he reached into his desk, "so I'll just you this and let you be on your way." He handed a thick, parchment envelope to Harry, who stared at it in barely suppressed awe.
"This is real, isn't it? I'm not dreaming, am I?" Harry asked himself, breathlessly. He pinched himself, just to be sure. 'Nope.' He winced. He wasn't dreaming.
"You better get started, Harry," Mr. Alexander chuckled.
Harry looked up at his teacher and swallowed a lump in his throat.
"Thank you, sir, for everything," he said thickly.
"It's no problem, Harry. You better get to work. I, myself, have a recommendation to write," he said warmly.
"Yes, sir. I'll see you tomorrow," Harry said with a nod and made his way to the door. As he passed through the threshold, he heard his teacher address him once more.
"Oh, and Harry?" Mr. Alexander asked.
Harry turned his head to face his teacher in response.
"Good luck," the older man said sincerely.
Harry just nodded once before dashing down the hallway toward the dorms. Tears of happiness leaked from his eyes and down his face. If anyone saw him like this, he would be teased for sure, but Harry didn't care. He had a chance to get out of there and that was all that mattered.
Minutes later, a teenage boy could be seen scribbling away in a tattered notebook, the contents of a heavy cream colored envelope sprawled on the bed before him.
A/N: Wow! I had no idea that this first chapter would end up so long. It was just meant to be a short introduction to the story, that way I could decide whether or not to continue. Just so you know, this is unbeta-ed and I have the second chapter written in a notebook, but it won't be posted until I have a few more chapters written. I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Even if you didn't, I'd like to hear your opinion; otherwise there won't be another chappie. I have a specific number of reviews I'm hoping for, so please help me reach my goal! Thank you and have a nice day!
The Palindrome
Harry double-checked his essay, looking for errors. It wasn't his best work, but he hadn't had much time after his first attempt had been ruined. He hoped he still got good marks. If he wanted to return to the Dursley's this summer, then he needed the good grade in addition to his good behavior.
Once he was satisfied, he pushed his chair back from the desk and stood. He stretched with a cat-like grace and was rewarded with a series of pops as he strode down the aisle of desks. He didn't stop until he reached the teacher's desk at the front.
He stood there a moment, waiting to be addressed by his instructor before tentatively asking, "Sir?" to catch the man's attention.
The chestnut head that had previously been bent over a pupil's red-marked essay looked up, his warm, brown eyes meeting questioning green ones.
"Where would you like my essay, sir?" Harry asked.
The older man blinked a moment before craning his neck to look around the dark haired boy before him and meet an otherwise empty classroom, all desks abandoned.
"Has the bell already rang?" the young teacher asked in surprise.
"Yes, Mr. Alexander. It rang about 15 minutes ago," Harry answered dutifully.
The teacher, Mr. Alexander, looked up at Harry.
"Then why are you still here?" he asked. His features melted into a baffled expression that made his 27-year-old face look almost childish.
"I needed to finish my essay," Harry replied with a blush. He found this teacher particularly attractive and when his face held cute expressions like this, Harry's stomach filled with a flock of fluttering butterflies.
"Didn't you work on this last night? This assignment was meant to be homework." Mr. Alexander's voice was kind, yet firm.
"I worked on my essay, sir, but I tripped this morning and it fell into a puddle of mud. I had to start all over again." Harry looked down at his feet.
Mr. Alexander's face grew serious. "Has Trevor been bothering you again? Was he the one who tripped you?"
Harry gulped and nodded to the floor. He continued to study his shoes until he heard his instructor sigh. Harry looked up cautiously.
"I guess I will accept your essay, then. I should probably have a talk with Trevor..." At this point Harry shook his head furiously.
Mr. Alexander rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Why don't you want me to talk to Trevor, Harry?" he asked in a weary voice.
"I don't want you talk to him because it would only make things worse. In his mind, I would have to be punished for tattling," Harry replied softly.
The young teacher just sighed once more, before steeling his face with a determined expression.
Harry slumped his shoulders. That look meant that whatever Mr. Alexander said next would be final. There was no way anyone could convince the man otherwise.
"Harry," Mr. Alexander started, "we both know that you shouldn't be here..."
Harry looked at the man in puzzlement. What did he mean by, "you shouldn't be here"? What was wrong with talking to his teacher after class? The only reason it would be inappropriate would be if he had discovered Harry's crush... that would be embarrassing. But how could he have found out? Harry didn't think he was obvious and he hadn't told a soul. He hadn't even written it in the book he was always carrying around; he wrote everything in that little notebook. His classmates often teased him, calling it his "diary", but it wasn't anything like a diary or journal. Occasionally, he would record his thoughts and emotions in blunt honesty, but nothing of real significance. Most of the time he used it to write poems and stories, often with his feelings hidden between the lines. But back to the question at hand, what did Mr. Alexander mean?
When the brown-eyed man caught Harry's look of confusion, he decided to elaborate.
"Harry you are the best student in school, you only ever fight in self defense, while your classmates would do anything for a fight, you don't make a nuisense of yourself, and you write better than some people who have books published. That is a great feat for a 15-year-old. You don't need to be here. St. Brutus's isn't the type of school a person like you should attend. You deserve to learn in an environment where you can be challenged and put your talent for writing to good use, and I think a have a way for you to do just that."
Harry's mind was reeling. He had never been complimented like that in his life! He had never really questioned his reason for being sent to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. He had been in hundreds of fights in primary school and that was enough for him to be shipped off to this wretched school. Never mind the fact that he had only started two of said hundreds of fights.
"I... well, thank you... I mean no one has ever..." he stammered, until, "...wait a minute! Did you just say you have a way to get me out of here?!" He stood up straight once again, eyes shining with hope.
Mr. Alexander gave him a kind smile that made Harry's heart beat just a little bit faster.
Harry's face brightened considerably.
"What do I have to do? Where would I be going? When can I leave?" he asked in one breath, his mouth going a mile a minute.
Mr. Alexander chuckled.
"Breathe, Harry, breathe! It's not a for sure thing you can leave."
Harry's face became troubled. What if he wasn't allowed to leave? He bit his lip. He would do just about anything to get out of this hellhole.
"I'm sure you will be leave if you really want this," Mr. Alexander said in an effort to calm the boy before him. "I have received a letter from Hogwarts School for the Gifted and Talented. Hogwarts is a school of the elite. Only the very rich and very talented are accepted to attend. Tuition itself could buy a large home, not to mention the specialized supplies required for the prestigious school. Hogwarts is accepting applications for a scholarship to study at their school for two years. If I'm not mistaken, you have two years until you graduate. If you are granted the scholarship, you could learn there until you graduate. Not only would you be expanding your horizons, but you could also escape Trevor Parkinson and his band of bullies. What do you think," he asked, almost out of breath.
Harry's shoulders slumped once more.
"There is no way I could get in," he said, dejected. "Why would they let a boy attending a school for incurably criminal boys into their school, the most prestigious and expensive in the country?"
"Harry," Mr. Alexander said, a reassuring smile on his face, "they don't even look at your record unless you are in the top ten. If you do make the top ten, then there is an interview where you could win the heart of the school. I'll even write your teacher recommendation and let them know about your special case."
Harry's spirits raised a little.
"How do you get into the top ten?"
Mr. Alexander smiled widely at Harry's curiosity. Maybe he would be able to get Harry out of here.
"Well, you have to write an essay based on the prompt they give you. There is also a survey you would have to answer. A panel of teachers will pick and rank you according to your answers and your teacher recommendation. Would you like to give it a try?"
Harry thought it over for all of two seconds before blurting out his answer.
"Of course! What do think I am, stupid? I don't have anything to lose."
Mr. Alexander was surprised by Harry's outburst, but not as shocked as Harry himself. Harry's eyes widened comically in horror.
"I'm so sorry about that, sir," he apologized. What if Mr. Alexander decided not to do his teacher recommendation?
"That's quite all right, Harry," Mr. Alexander said with a laugh. Harry's expression was simply hilarious. His eyes were wide and his mouth was opened slightly in surprise at what had popped out of his mouth.
"I'm sure you're anxious to get started," he said as he reached into his desk, "so I'll just you this and let you be on your way." He handed a thick, parchment envelope to Harry, who stared at it in barely suppressed awe.
"This is real, isn't it? I'm not dreaming, am I?" Harry asked himself, breathlessly. He pinched himself, just to be sure. 'Nope.' He winced. He wasn't dreaming.
"You better get started, Harry," Mr. Alexander chuckled.
Harry looked up at his teacher and swallowed a lump in his throat.
"Thank you, sir, for everything," he said thickly.
"It's no problem, Harry. You better get to work. I, myself, have a recommendation to write," he said warmly.
"Yes, sir. I'll see you tomorrow," Harry said with a nod and made his way to the door. As he passed through the threshold, he heard his teacher address him once more.
"Oh, and Harry?" Mr. Alexander asked.
Harry turned his head to face his teacher in response.
"Good luck," the older man said sincerely.
Harry just nodded once before dashing down the hallway toward the dorms. Tears of happiness leaked from his eyes and down his face. If anyone saw him like this, he would be teased for sure, but Harry didn't care. He had a chance to get out of there and that was all that mattered.
Minutes later, a teenage boy could be seen scribbling away in a tattered notebook, the contents of a heavy cream colored envelope sprawled on the bed before him.
A/N: Wow! I had no idea that this first chapter would end up so long. It was just meant to be a short introduction to the story, that way I could decide whether or not to continue. Just so you know, this is unbeta-ed and I have the second chapter written in a notebook, but it won't be posted until I have a few more chapters written. I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Even if you didn't, I'd like to hear your opinion; otherwise there won't be another chappie. I have a specific number of reviews I'm hoping for, so please help me reach my goal! Thank you and have a nice day!
The Palindrome