Chapter 12

"Ringgg!"

Harry woke up with a start. Was the telephone ringing? He hoped he wouldn't have to get up to get it. He was so comfortably warm at the moment.

"Banggg!"

He got up hastily, a lifetime of conditioning fighting against half-remembered logic. That sounded horrible, almost like a door being slammed shut, just a lot louder. It might even be his cupboard door, though that would mean the cupboard would soon be in need of a new door. But wait, as his mind cleared, he remembered. He had a real room as a bedroom now.

Harry sat still on his fourposter, slowly remembering that he was at Hogwarts, in the Hufflepuff dorms, while a multitude of strange sounds echoed through the air. He finally decided he had had enough when he heard what seemed like the roar of a lion right in his ear. He jerked and looked around, his heart beating fast and threatening to jump out of his chest. He slowly parted the curtains around his bed, trying to be stealthy.

An amused voice said, "It's all right Potter. That was the wake up gong."

He finally opened up the curtains fully. Looked like he'd have to work on his stealth a bit. Or a lot, considering Hufflepuffs were supposed to be the most unobservant people.

The beds were arranged in a sort of circle, with everyone able to see everyone else. It was Zacharias Smith, who had spoken to him.

"Merlin, are they going to do that every day?" Another curtain parted as Wayne Hopkins asked his question in dismay.

"I'd leave if they do," Ernie McMillan said, hiding a yawn behind his hand. Just then, the noise of a cat yowling filled the air and they all flinched. This was going to get old, really fast. What happened to congeniality? This was torture.

The curtains of the bed next to Harry's was parted noisily with a rush and Justin Finch Fletchley asked, sounding remarkably haughty, considering his hair was sticking out in odd shapes, "Wake up Longbottom, will you? A seventh year, Tonks, told me that this horrible sound will continue till all of us are up and committed to staying so." And he couldn't have mentioned this before they all went to bed last night?

"I'm not committed to staying up at all." Wayne replied instantly.

"Better decide that after this awful caterwauling has stopped." Ernie suggested.

Seeing that no one seemed willing to wake Neville up, Harry finally got up and opened the curtains hiding the boy on the bed on his left from view. How could anyone stay awake in this noise, Harry wondered as a shrill scream rent the air.

By wearing earmuffs, he noticed with disapproval. And they had been told they would be woken by a gong too, one which Neville couldn't have possibly known would be so horrible last night.

By the time they were all ready and down in the common room, it was slightly past seven-thirty. Initially Harry had wondered how they could possibly take so much time considering there were bathroom stalls for each one of them. Then he realized that Smith and McMillan had never worn their clothes on their own before. They had house-elves for that.

Justin was determined to make a good impression, which mean styling and primping his hair, changing his clothes again and again, even though all the pairs of the school uniform were exactly the same and using lotions all over his body to ensure he didn't get chapped skin or some other skin ailment Harry didn't know about.

Neville had a tendency to get caught in his clothes, and Wayne simply fell asleep while showering, though how on earth he managed to doze on his feet for a full fifteen minutes without falling was something Harry couldn't understand.

Even Harry was persuaded to run a comb through his hair for five minutes when everyone simply stared at him when he told them he was ready. His hands still ached.

The girls though, looked completely normal. Straight clothes, straight hair, bags on their arms, everything a school girl ought to look like. He got the feeling that they couldn't possibly have spent more time getting ready than his roommates.

The way they looked seemed to have passed muster though, because Professor Sprout, a dumpy witch who had managed to get dirt on her hat, even so early in the morning, looked them over and nodded in satisfaction.

With a gentle smile on her face, she asked, "Did all of you sleep well?"

"We did … till what passes for a gong here started ringing." Megan Jones answered.

"The gong will continue ringing, making more horrible noises the longer it goes on, till everyone in a dorm is awake. It nurtures a sense of solidarity and helpfulness among the students." Sprout answered brightly.

How sneaky, Harry thought. They'd have to make sure everyone got up in time, otherwise they'd have to suffer the gong of torture. What a fine way to make children help others. It seemed even Hufflepuff knew just what selfishness could achieve.

"Now, are there any questions that you have?" Sprout asked.

Harry spoke up before anyone else could, "What about portraits, can we hang them somewhere near our bed so only we can see them?"

He'd tried hanging Regulus' portrait. He didn't know any sticking charms strong enough to keep the painting on the bed posts. Everywhere else was open to everyone else, and how was Harry supposed to talk with Regulus if all and sundry could hear him?"

Sprout looked surprised, before she looked at him closely, making him flush. He'd had a good lecture the previous morning about all the things he was entitled to and how he was betraying his family, his name, and all those who got cheated through life simply because they couldn't stand up for themselves if he didn't make an effort to get everything that he deserved. Which was an awful lot if one went by Regulus' opinions. Something must have stuck though, as he couldn't imagine actually asking something like this even a week ago.

Professor Sprout finally said, looking sad, "If you don't mind it blocking one of the sides of the bed, I'll have the House Elves board up a side so you can hang the portrait."

Harry wondered, wasn't that too much work just for a student? He'd imagined they'd simply stick it at the top of the four-poster. But if they were willing to do it, who was he to complain. He simply said, with a graceful smile, that he was afraid may have looked more like he had sucked on something sour, "That would be fine, thank you." Even practicing his expressions in front of the mirror didn't seem to have done much for him. That may be because he always felt like a ponce when he did that and hence got it over with all possible rapidity.

"Any further questions?" Professor Sprout asked. When no one said anything, she said, "That's all right. My door is always open when you have any queries. I keep time aside for my students from seven to nine on weekdays. The curfew for first to fourth years is eight o'clock. Dinner is at six and lunch at noon. If you are hungry before dinner, you may always go to the kitchens, though I will be very disappointed if any of you takes advantage of the house-elves.

They are not to carry things for you, make your beds, help you dress, or clean the room if you throw things here and there. They are not your personal house-elves and you are not to treat them as if they are. Punishing them is not allowed and will get you a month's detention. I expect politeness from my students towards everyone even if you don't like them.

Hogwarts is a magical castle that has often been described as sentient. That means that even though there is a map on the common room of the floors containing classrooms, the paths towards them may not always be the same. For this reason, for the first month, while your magic in integrated into the castle's magic so that you stop losing your way, I expect every single one of you to go to places only in the company of someone older than you.

If you find yourself lagging behind in any class, you are to ask for help from either your own classmates, your seniors, though not the fifth and seventh years, or your teachers. We'll start the tutoring from October, which ought to help. After breakfast, around eight-thirty, the prefects will show you the way to your classes, the library and the professors' studies. Are there any questions?"

Harry shook his head as did the others after that long speech.

Sprout smiled at them and said, "In that case, here is a booklet, detailing the activities, clubs, study groups, etc. Until Miss Goshawk and Mister Truman come down, why don't you read them? I hold discussions with my students once a month, where I also look over your grades. I expect an average of Exceeds Expectations from everyone. Welcome to Hogwarts. I hope all of you have a thoroughly enjoyable seven years in this school, and this House."

Saying this, she passed a few copies of a small booklet. The girls got two of them and the boys three. Harry and Neville took one and then grabbed a sofa to sit on once Sprout was gone.

"She seems friendly," Neville volunteered as Harry opened the book.

"As long as she really is friendly and doesn't simply seem so. I didn't know there were so many famous Hufflepuffs, did you?" Harry answered back, referring to what the Prefect had said the previous night. So maybe he didn't have a good impression of teachers. His primary school teachers had been only so willing to blame him for everything, even if it was impossible. They had never blamed Dudley for anything, always taking everyone else' words as true, but never his.

"I think the current Head of the DMLE, Susan's aunt, was also a Hufflepuff." Neville answered after thinking about it.

"All right, let's see what extra-curricular activities Hogwarts offers. There's Quidditch, which seems pretty useless for us since the first words are that we're not allowed on the team." Harry said, changing the subject and opening the book on the first page.

He didn't want to seem too interested in Amelia Bones, even though he was. Regulus had been very shocked when they found out what had happened to his brother. He had been even more shocked when the Ministry had refused to send transcripts of his trial on the basis that it had been a closed trial, which was illegal for any Head of House, which Sirius would have been by that time.

Personally speaking, Harry wasn't too interested in finding out more about Sirius Black. What he had found till now was enough for him to realise that they definitely wouldn't be getting along, and not just because the man had betrayed his parents to Voldemort and killed one of the people he might have been left with after his parents' death.

Feeling himself start becoming angry again as he thought about this, he tried to put all his attention in the pamphlet they were reading. The words seemed to float away from him as he failed miserably at controlling his emotions… he only paid attention to what he was supposed to be doing when Neville announced, "I'm going to join the Herbology Club."

Harry asked, jumping on the offered distraction, "Is there one?"

Neville shrugged his ignorance of the matter before saying, "There's a Charms Club led by professor Flitwick, and a Runes one from Second Year by Professor Babbling, and an Arithmancy one led by Professor Vector, though all of them have an entrance test."

"Oh, do we have to join right away, or can one join whenever they want?" Harry had hoped that there would be more fun activities. Since Neville did not know the answer, they simply returned to, or in Harry's case, started, pouring over the small pamphlet. In the end, the only games he could find were Quidditch and Gobstones. One of which he wasn't allowed to join, and the other he wasn't interested in.

It wasn't long before the Prefects from the previous night, Goshawk and Truman, arrived and led the First Years to the Great Hall. Breakfast was a swift affair, not because of orders, but because all the first years were afflicted by a case of nerves that made eating difficult. Harry was one of the first ones done. All a month of being able to eat all that he wanted had made him realise was that just because he could, didn't mean he should. Moreover, his stomach was affected by emotions, and he'd learned better than to eat when he was feeling anything but contentment or indifference. Professor Quirrell wasn't very tolerant of being thrown up on. Though Regulus had laughed when he'd found out.

That reminded him, were their lunches on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays still on? Yes, the man started stuttering at the oddest of moments, and always when he was among persons (person didn't seem to affect him that strongly). He was also strict, and had a habit of rapping Harry's knuckles whenever he ate in a manner the man didn't approve of. But he was also sneaky with a strange sort of innocence, knew a lot, a bit of which he was even willing to share with Harry.

And best of all... he never expected anything but unfailing, unceasing, mediocrity.

Now, when the Dursleys had expected the same of him, Harry had been affronted, angered, disappointed. But when Quirrell expected it of him, Harry got the urge to prove him wrong, to surprise him and get one of those rare, calculating looks from the man which seemed to say that he was reevaluating his opinion of Harry. Yes, he knew his brain was weird. And not just because the voice in his head seemed to be vehemently not a morning person, and tried its best to never speak up before eleven if it could help it. Could imaginary voices even choose whether they were morning voices or not?

The Prefects led them around a bit, showing them the Library, the Professor's studies, their classrooms and the simplest routes to the great hall from all of them. They were finally deposited in the Greenhouses, where they were met by Professor Sprout.

Herbology was messy and required a lot of hard work, but as Sprout told them, as long as they were diligent, they would have no trouble. Considering the garden at Four Private Drive was the envy of the entire neighborhood, Harry didn't think he'd have too much trouble with the class, at least not in First Year.

Usually, they'd have classes with their own Houses, but sometimes, they'd have Double Potions, Double Charms and the like. This year, it was only Double Potions. From next year, they'd have each class with another House. Evidently, the professors didn't trust themselves to be able to handle more than one House at a time.

Transfiguration was . . . strange. First, Professor McGonagall amazed them by turning her desk into a pig, though Harry had to admit, he found the glass figures of his parents the professor had made much more impressive. He might be biased though, as he'd gotten the spell made permanent and even now, it was wrapped in yards of cloth and kept safely in his trunk.

The Professor had the talent of keeping the class silent. She simply told them, "I will not tolerate any disorder in my classroom. Transfiguration is a serious business, and unless you fancy turning your own finger into needle, instead of a match, you will do exactly as I say. Is that understood?"

The look on her face was enough to make the Hufflepuffs nod. No one said that a needle as a finger might be a useful accessory. She gave a nod back and said, "Good. Now, while what I did is certainly achievable, it will be years still till you can do it. We'll start the class by stating the principles of Transfiguration. While most of these are surmountable, they are not till you start a mastery. Which means this..."

Harry hurriedly made notes. Writing with a quill was really cramping his writing, because although he had practiced writing with one, he hadn't done so at such a fast pace. McGonagall simply spoke and expected them to copy it down. In the end, he ended up with missed verbs, un-dotted 'i's and 't's that looked like 'l's. He thankfully, managed to get it all down till McGonagall finally stopped.

"Now, I want you to read over your notes and ask any questions you may have."

Harry looked over his notes. This spell belonged to family blah-blah-blah, which belonged to the blah-blah-blah sphere, which involved spells that dealt with Equitable Exchanges, followed this and that Law, and held faithfully to some arc of rules governing transfiguration, which was part of a greater arc. It was invented by the Blah-blah Guild which was renamed to become Blah-blah-blah.

McGonagall had also given them copious notes about how every word and every wand movement of the spell was created using various rules in mind and how they made it easier to cast, according to the report accredited by the ICW. The theory, while nice, didn't seem to have anything to do with the spell. What was he supposed to do, wave his wand, say the words and hope he got lucky?

Still, he read over his notes, and while he could understand what the theory meant, he really couldn't relate it to the actual spell to be performed. He didn't want to ask either. Everyone else seemed to have had no trouble with it and he didn't want to be a bother. Especially since he could see that all his classmates were eagerly waiting to perform their first spell at Hogwarts. Even Neville, who had seemed so afraid that he'd be horrible at the subject seemed to have had no trouble.

McGonagall waved her wand and matchsticks flew to every desk. Time to prove that he could do transfiguration. Regulus had said that it was really difficult, not like the jinxes he'd been practicing till now. If that was really the case and the wizard hadn't simply been having him on, then he was in some real trouble.

As the class progressed, Harry realized with a deep seated sense of relief that he wasn't the only one. Susan Bones was the first to get it, on her third try in fact, and she got ten points for it and a smile from McGonagall. The girl however, just squirmed a bit before thanking the witch for the points.

Bones set about giving tips to Hannah Abbott, while the rest of the class proceeded to do battle with their matchsticks. By the end of the class, Bones was still the only one who had managed to make a needle.

'Time to put the plan in action.'

The voice in his head was back, Harry thought with resignation as he asked back, 'What plan?'

'To get to her Aunt through her, of course. Now's the time to go over to her and ask for her help with Transfiguration. A bit of flattery, a bit of helplessness, a bit of eagerness to do well, to overcome your humble beginnings, and she'll be putty in your hands.'

'Shouldn't that be our hands?' Harry asked archly.

'I am a voice in your head,' the voice reiterated his own thoughts, which made sense because it was a part of his mind. 'I don't have hands. You however do. Now put them to use!'

Harry would have grumbled if it hadn't made sense. His sub-conscience was a lot smarter than his active self. He dragged Neville, who was just getting out of his seat near to the Abbott and Bones duo as they exited the class. Neville looked at him in confusion as Harry asked him, "That was a difficult class, wasn't it? I couldn't do anything to my needle."

Neville still looked a bit confused, probably at how he'd been dragged fast till they were a little behind the girls, and now seemed to be walking leisurely, but still answered, "I don't think transfiguration is going to be one of my good classes. My matchstick looked nearer to spontaneous combustion than metallic transfiguration."

Harry was impressed. That sounded nice. Both the sentence and the idea that one could set fire to something with nothing but a willpower alone. Neville's words were almost like one of the phrases that Regulus had made him memorize till when he was woken up by loud noises, it wasn't a 'What?' that left his lips but a 'Thankful though I am for your alarm spell services, would you please desist? Immediately?' He never stopped feeling embarrassed whenever he acted like a posh little git and got the horrible feeling that if he were to behave in that manner, he'd get laughed out of his dormitory. They made him uncomfortable in his own skin.

Harry looked at the girls and asked politely, "Miss Bones?"

Susan turned around with a blush, it was obvious she had been eavesdropping. "Yes?" She nearly squeaked after swallowing hard.

"I couldn't help noticing how you were the only one to get the transfiguration right, on your third try too. It was very impressive." Harry complimented her.

Bones lost the fight against her blush and turned red as a beetroot as she croaked, "Th-thank you."

Harry barely controlled his grimace. Regulus and Professor Quirrell had spoiled him. He'd started to think the fact that he was the Boy Who Lived wasn't really that important. But he could tell he was mistaken. He could see people in the corridor staring and pointing at him, talking about him as if he was deaf and couldn't hear them. Even now, he was barely stopping himself from cowering behind someone else. Though that probably had more to do with the fact that though Neville was chubby, he was almost the same height as Harry.

He wouldn't even think about hiding behind the girls. For one, they were girls. For another, they'd probably flop to the floor boneless, what with all the blood rushing to their faces.

"I was wondering, would you be averse to helping us with the homework? I'm afraid my matchstick, if possible, looked even more of a matchstick after my tries at magic than before."

Bones giggled but nodded. "All right, I'll help."

And with that, Bones and Abbott both rushed off somewhere, giggling all the while. Girls were weird. There was Hermione, who believed in stalking him through books, and now here were his two classmates who were well on the way to driving him, if not deaf, then definitely out of his mind through their blushes and giggling.

'At least,' his mind replied, 'They don't titter. Imagine how horrible that would be.'

His body gave an involuntary shudder. He'd rather not.

Lunch was a fatty affair. Magic mainly consumed fat, yes, but surely this was too much, Harry questioned himself as he looked at the table filled with as many sorts of meat as possible. There was even dessert, and all the fruits were cooked. Vegetables took the form of purees that the meats were sat on. Fried food was a big hit.

Harry was starting to believe Regulus, when he said that Dumbledore wanted people to not grow as powerful as they could. Why else would he stop them from ever being able to make the easy sorts of sacrifices required by simple rituals, leaving them with only those sacrifices that even someone who was not squeamish would balk at? Unless of course, Harry thought with an amused snort, they were supposed to use vegetables

Meals, the first years were told by Goshawk, whose duty it was to sit next to them, were a strictly House business.

"You will not sit with anyone not in your House at our table, nor will you go and sit at their table during breakfast, lunch or dinner." She told them.

Then she shrugged, "Of course, if you'd like to have a picnic, or simply sit in the kitchens with your friends instead, that's all right. We're not trying to stop you from having inter-house relations. Just remember," she warned them seriously, "Slytherins will rather bully you than talk to you, Gryffindors will rather make fun of you than be friends with you and Ravenclaws, though they will try to be what they think is nice, will end up being condescending to you. And that means, for all those who don't know, that they'll act as if they're Magic's gift to the world and you're the family pet that they're patting on the head. So, make friends, but be careful."

'That,' the ever present voice commented, 'Sounded anything but encouragement to be friendly.'

Harry gave a mental nod, if that were possible. That was indeed anything but encouraging. They spent free time at the Common Room where very few people could gain entry to, ate with their Housemates and attended classes with their Houses. He knew he himself wouldn't go out of his way to talk to others if he was with people he already had a friendly relationship with. Or maybe they were being encouraged to be outgoing. He didn't know and wasn't sure he cared to find out.

One of the things he'd looked forward to the most about going to school was that now he wouldn't have to spend time puzzling out the various meanings one simple statement could have. Regulus was obsessed with making him the perfect Black Heir, and how on earth was he supposed to get away from a talking portrait hung in his own bedroom while at the Dursleys? He clenched his mouth close as his lips threatened to twist into a smile, here he could simply pretend to get lost! After all, who carried around Hogwarts A History in their school bag like a nerd?

It was strange. He knew that what the Prefect was saying was true but if this was the rule that they were supposed to adhere to from now on, why was there a special Common Room to share with other Houses?

And wasn't it going against the Hufflepuff motto? Didn't she say, "And I'll take the rest"?

'It was centuries ago. It's probably interpreted as "I'm only taking the rest, not those that are brave, clever or ambitious."' His inner voice commented.

'Well, in a way that shows Hufflepuff isn't the House of the Loyal, right? If they're loyal only to those who are in their own House?' Harry asked, feeling conflicted, as he set off towards the Charms classroom after finishing his lunch. He was only dimly aware that Neville shot confused looks at him as he didn't say anything aloud. He was grateful though, that the boy didn't press.

'It's clever in a way,' the voice mused inside the privacy of his head. 'They'll be loyal and friendly only to those who will reciprocate the feelings. Less chances of being betrayed.'

'This isn't a war,' Harry protested. 'There's no reason to act like if you're friendly to someone you don't know from the cradle to be nice, they're just as likely to stab you in the back as say hi!'

'Ah, but fights between Light and Dark, different races and even different countries are common in the Wizarding World, aren't they? It's called the Wizarding World for a reason and not the Magical World.' The voice said slyly. 'They probably never teach anything but battle mentality.'

'But isn't that really counterproductive? Won't it just make people even more eager to fight?' Harry asked in confusion.

'War is a profitable business.' The voice said sagely.

Harry changed the subject once they were seated in the classroom, if only because something depressing like this didn't hold a place in the room where Professor Flitwick toppled off the desk after reaching his name in the roll call. It felt disrespectful somehow, to criticize the school the man taught at when he was so eager to teach Harry. Thankfully, the short wizard only started telling them things that they were supposed to write down as Harry's mind was definitely not on the lesson.

'I think you need a name,' Harry said in the sanctity of his own mind. 'Instead of thinking of you as a voice that pipes up for the sole purpose of irritating me.'

'I am Harry. I am you. Why would I need another name?' the voice asked, sounding as if it was doubting Harry's grasp of even the most elementary of concepts.

'Not another name,' Harry clarified. 'I meant something like inner Harry and outer Harry.'

'That's stupid.' Came the response in a flat monotone. 'And unimaginative.'

'What's your idea?' Harry asked fairly

'Maybe Clever Harry and Not So Clever Harry?' Wickedness practically dripped off the voice.

'And I take it the Not So Clever Harry is me?' Harry asked tiredly, feeling that there really was something strange about his sub-consciousness.

'Obviously. I don't see you coming up with any brilliant plans.' The flippant answer was wreathed in self-confidence, something that Harry found himself envying. And yes, that was with the knowledge that being jealous of a part of himself was if not the height of foolishness, then pretty near the top.

'You know what would be the perfect name?' Harry asked, feeling a little vindictive. 'Vimh.'

'Like the soap?' The distaste towards the idea was almost visible. Harry felt tempted to let the voice believe that he was being named after a soap that he detested the smell of and burned his hands while cleaning utensils but finally, the thought that letting a part of his own personality labor under the misunderstanding that it was hated might lead to mental problems convinced him to dissuade it. The fact that he wasn't even sure whether to call the voice an 'it' or a 'him' was something that had to be addressed as well.

'No, VIMH as in Voice In My Head. It perfectly encapsulates your role in my Life.'

'As a non-corporeal entity inhabiting your head without paying rent?' The newly dubbed Vimh asked wryly.

'Hey, just because you're getting your own name doesn't mean I'm rejecting you, you know. And as you said, you're the one who comes up with brilliant plans. That's rent enough.' Harry said conscientiously, sounding almost saint-like in that moment.

'Damned by faint praise, as they say.' Vimh muttered.

'I would never damn you,' Harry reassured Vimh. He didn't know how the voice managed it but he could feel the doubt radiating out. So it was a calculated decision to not clarify whether his statement was said truthfully and innocently.

Some things were just better left unsaid.

A/N: It's been so long since I last updated. But first I had my Pre-pre boards, then Pre Boards and then the Boards. Then I had to prepare for entrance exams for colleges. Horrible thing is, my BFS only came to be 95.75, which was so depressing I just didn't feel like writing for a while. It also put me off books and I got stuck to TV which led to my new fascination with Naruto and The Originals.

I got admission in a college in English Honors, which is good because I do want to be an author but bad because I wanted to do Economics.

Also, I've currently lost interest in Harry Potter and though I do have a little of the next chapter written, it's on paper and currently, my brain's sending me too many ideas for original stories. So whenever I get a good scene, I write it down, which further leaves me uninterested in this story because I have to write chronologically.

Still, I'm really thankful for all the reviews, follows and favorites. Strange thing is, all through these months, I kept getting reviews and follows. It was really strange but sent a good feeling through me too.

As a personal question, I told a teacher in the college that I write fanfiction. And now every time I'm not concentrating, my heart starts galloping and I get overcome my panic. Is it really that bad? I did mention that I write not because I don't want the story to end but because I'm trying to improve my writing.