His love for Potions I ✔

Chapter 47: Back to Hogwarts

Harry was discovered on the train back to Hogwarts by a Prefect tripping over him, but since he was supposed to be on the train, they couldn't exactly take points off. He slunk into a compartment full of strangers and endured curious looks at The Harry Potter.

#

Hermione had somehow developed a reputation as a man-eating siren, which Harry found frankly weird. She was apparently the sought-after bride of him, Draco, Neville, Krum, and a few other boys besides, and Harry just wanted to stick his hands in his pockets and go 'I could never date someone who likes books better than me.' But he didn't say that, because she was his best friend and it would just be taking his temper out on people. Never before had going to Hogwarts felt like leaving home to Harry. He wasn't sure he liked it, and he was wary of disturbing his wards by thinking too much about things like home. He wasn't sure what would muck with them and what wouldn't, and it left him trying to police his own thoughts.

#

"Missed you at Easter, Potter," Moody said.

"Went home to visit my family," Harry said, avoiding his gaze. Moody had been an auror. It just didn't seem sensible to tell him about visiting his escaped convict godfather.

Moody grunted.

#

"I don't like muggles," Greg said to Hermione one evening.

"Why not?" she asked in reply.

He frowned.

"If they were gone, we'd have more stuff."

"If they were gone, we wouldn't have food or roads or trains," Hermione said tartly. "Not everything can be made by wizards."

Greg fell silent, and everyone moved on with studying, assuming it had gotten lost somewhere in his head.

"You're a muggle," Greg said to Hermione after a while. "I like you."

"I'm muggleborn," Hermione said. "And... thanks."

"Greg," Draco said sharply, and Greg fell silent, staring vaguely at the book he'd been holding for the past half hour.

"Oh, why do you even pretend - you're not even trying!" Hermione said, grabbing the book out of his hands.

"Don't know how to read," Greg said proudly.

"You. What."

"Well, a little," he admitted.

"Greg's father thinks reading rots the brain," Draco explained dryly. "A good wizard learns by memorization and oral tradition. It's too bad Greg's no good at memorizing things either."

Hermione sputtered quite a lot after that.

#

A few days later Hermione asked Draco, "Is it really true that there's no standard wizard preparation for Hogwarts?"

"Of course not. Magic's not standard, is it?"

Hermione stared at him.

"I had a few different tutors," Draco explained. "How do muggles do it?"

"You go to school," said Harry, "Every year except summers. Same as Hogwarts, only for reading and maths."

"Sounds dreadful," was Draco's opinion. "Though I suppose it would spare one from lectures on how things have gone downhill since we started writing spells down."

Harry and Hermione exchanged horrified looks.

#

"Chocolate?" Harry said, since Draco looked like he was about to start screaming at Crabbe, and that would disrupt Potions class.

"If I have to tell you one more time not to bring food to class, Mister Potter," Snape interrupted in his very best form, "I shall hang you upside down and shake you."

"Why do you constantly offer people candy?" Draco asked later as they left class. "You aren't going to be a shopkeeper, you know."

"I could be a shopkeeper. Nothing wrong with being a shopkeeper. It sounds peaceful."

"I'm serious. Why?"

"You ever not had enough to eat?"

Draco looked at him blankly.

"Candy makes me happy," Harry said.

And Harry didn't see a reason it had to be more complicated than that.

#

Despite Professor Snape being moderately helpful about Harry for once doing the right thing and running right to the headmaster with a problem, namely Mr. Crouch talking to trees, they did not reach the forest in time to prevent Mr. Crouch's disappearance.

#

Having another vision of Voldemort did not endear Harry's scar to him one bit, and talking it over in more detail with Dumbledore, and then Sirius, Ron, and Hermione did not help. They just didn't have enough information, any way they turned it around. Professor Snape was not interested in speculating, since he'd gotten it into his head that Harry would complete a successful batch of Polyjuice before the end of term and it was not going particularly well. Harry wanted to ask if Snape would be happy if Harry died because he'd been distracted by brooding Polyjuice like a chicken, but ended up staying quiet. It just didn't seem diplomatic.

Harry did comment when their last lesson before the third task was a lightning round of making a scarily precise batch of healing potion, though. Harry looked at the neat silver flask full of potion, etched with a snake, and said, "I'm going to be fine."

"Then you will spare Madame Pomfrey a small amount of labor," Professor Snape said.