Harry Potter and the Portkey of Time

CHAPTER 6

The first few weeks went by in a blur. Harry was still terrible at potions, which was rather embarrassing as he has technically graduated. However, every other subject was insanely easy. Charms was a piece of cake, transfiguration was like clicking his fingers and Defence Against the Dark Arts he could've done with his eyes closed. The best thing was being surrounded by familiar, though younger, faces. He couldn't even bring himself to be mad at the Slytherins. Malfoy wasn't bothering him nearly as much as he used to, and none of the others had actually joined Voldemort yet. Life was calm for the first time, since, well, forever.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, or DADA for short, was pretty much the worst subject in Harry's opinion. It was even worse than potions. Quirrell was, quite honestly, a terrible teacher, not counting the fact he was sneaking the Dark Lord into the school to help him return to power. All they did was theory, never any practical work, and Harry had already learnt everything they were taught. He had tried to curse Quirrell's turban a few times when he wasn't looking, but every single time, he turned his head. Harry was starting to think that it might be worse than Lockhart's classes. Lockhart. Harry would have to deal with him all over again next year.

First years weren't allowed brooms, so Harry couldn't even go flying to relieve stress. Flying... They had their first broom lesson today. If Harry remembered correctly, it was where he got invited to play for the Gryffindor quidditch team and become the youngest seeker of the century. Though, the reason was quite foggy.

That morning, the post arrived. Ron had a letter from his parents, Hermione down the table also seemed to have a letter, and Neville, who was sitting across from Harry and Ron, had a small parcel. He opened it up excitedly to find a remembrall.

"It's a remembrall!" he explained to Ron and Dean who looked confused. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh..." Neville's face fell as the ball turned scarlet, "it means you've forgotten something."

Just as Neville was trying to remember what he had forgotten, Malfoy came over. He hadn't been bothering Harry per se, but that didn't mean he wasn't still a right prick to everyone else.

"Hello Malfoy," Harry said, hoping to avoid any conflict between his friends. Not that Malfoy was his friend. He just didn't know what to call him now that they weren't enemies.

"Potter." Malfoy sneered, "I was just coming to see what Longbottom had received in the post," he said innocently, picking the ball up off the table and inspecting it closely.

"He got a remembrall if you must know. Could I have it?"

"I suppose," Malfoy drawled, handing it over to Harry. "It suits him well, don't you think? Pity it doesn't tell him what he lost though." He laughed with Crabbe and Goyle.

"Ha. Ha." Harry said sarcastically, "really great of you to come to check up on us Malfoy, I know you care so much, but it would be great if you could leave now. Bye."

"Hm. And just so you know, I don't care." Malfoy said and then strode away, his cronies following along.

"I don't know how you put up with him," started Ron, "He's a right git in my books."

"Yeah well, I'd rather us be civil than have to worry about starting a fight every two seconds." Responded Harry, thinking of the old days. "Also I don't put up with him," Harry added.

"You two may not fight, but it doesn't mean the rest of us don't."

Harry did think it was strange he was the only Gryffindor Malfoy was remotely civil with, but figured it was because he never said anything rude directly to his face.