Harry Potter and the Silent Dead: Book 1

Chapter 9: A day in the life of Hogwarts

Harry and his friends walked to their next class, Defence against the dark arts. Everyone was looking forward to it, but none more so than Harry. This class would be the only exposure to magic of his darker disposition that he would get for the rest of the year! Unfortunately, Quirells lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be back to get one of these days. That, of course, was ridiculous as real vampires had no aversion to garlic whatsoever. He couldn't help but smirk at the fact that the purebloods in the room had unknowingly bought into a Muggle myth. Harry however had a different theory. Garlic did, when mixed with other ingredients in spells, ward off dark energy, which could be used in two ways. To keep dark energy away, or to keep it in. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. No one believes this story, as when the Muggle raised asked how to fight a zombie, he had no answer. Besides, as far as Harry knew, the closest one could get to a zombie in real life was the inferi. Whatever the reason, Quirell was keeping a secret. Normally, this wasn't something Harry would bother with. He'd rather keep his head down, learn what he could, and find a way to escape with Sally. Except... Every time Harry looked at Quirrell, Quirell was looking back. Very quickly Harry came to the obvious conclusion that he was being watched, but further than that, his instincts were telling him it wasn't Quirrel. Sure, the same eyes followed him around the room. The same body always seemed to be slightly turned in his direction. But a different voice spoke when looking at him. Different eyes met his. Something was going on, and it unfortunately seemed to involve Harry. On the one hand, he could ignore it and focus on the main goal. On the other hand he could satisfy his own curiosity and look into the matter. Besides, it was dangerous to have anyone watching him that closely. Harry himself had plenty of dark secrets.

After learning nothing in DADA, Harry, Lisa and Terry along with the rest of their house, made their way out to the quidditch pitch, which even Harry had to admit was quite impressive. He was however, unimpressed with a certain red heads reaction. Ronald Weasley would tell anyone anyone who'd listen about the time he almost hit a handglider on his brother Charlie's old broom. He turned to Terry and Lisa, an eyebrow raised. "I'm guessing Quidditch is kind of a big thing here?" A strange strangled sound had him turn around to the amusing sight of Draco choking on air. "You don't know about Quidditch!?" The group laughed, turning as their teacher walked towards the first years. Madame Hooch had short grey hair and yellow eyes like a hawk. "Well, what are you waiting for?" She barked. " Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." Instantly, Harry could see she was a no nonsense woman, like Sally, and it would be best not to get on her bad side. He glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. "Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madame Hooch at the front, "and say Up!" Immediately everyone did so. Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. The broom of a gryffindor girl with bushy hair, simply rolled on the ground, and another slightly nervous looking boy, hadn't moved at all. Draco and Blaise also had their brooms in hand, whilst the rest of his friends were either unaffected or wildly disobedient. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry. Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and began to walk along the row of first years correcting their grip. He smirked slightly when she told Draco, who had loudly been proclaiming his skill, that he'd been doing it wrong for years. That smirk was immediately wiped from his face by a snort to his left. Looking over, he saw the annoying ginger laughing at his blonde friend. Draco sneered at the boy, disgust evident in his features. "Shut your mouth Weasley, what do you think you're laughing at?" The ginger opened his mouth to respond, but fell silent at the look in Harry's face. Thanks to the ghosts he'd grown up with, he'd perfected the quite literal death glare to a T. The cold eyes and blank stare, narrowed and straight for the kill. The boy stepped back and looked down at his broom, frowning. Looking back towards his friends, he smiled at the shocked looks on their faces. "What?" Lisa and Terry looked at eachother before responding. Blimey Harry, you're terrifying. They all laughed as Harry re-focused on the lesson. If only they knew. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle - three - two-" Suddenly the nervous looking boy, Neville according to his worried shouting house-mates, pushed off hard before the whistle even touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back boy!" She shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -
Wham! A thud and a nasty crack with Neville laying face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily towards the forbidden forest, out of sight. Harry ignored Madam Hooch as she bent over the broken boy. What kind of idiotic man named a forest forbidden in a place full of idiotic rebellious school kids? Hell, even he wanted to see what was in their. Whilst Harry knew enough dark magic to protect himself from a dragon, he wasn't sure if it was clever idea to go exploring quite yet. At least not until he knew what was in there. When he turned back to the rest of the class, Hooch was leading the boy away. No sooner where they out of earshot did Draco and the other Slytherin's burst into peals of laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" Immediately, Lisa's face rearranged into a mighty glare, and Harry decided to help Terry, who'd moved in between Malfoy and Lisa, to diffuse the situation. "Well we can't all be Quidditch masters, Mr. Wrong grip." At the comeback, the Slytherin's snickered and Lisa turned a little less red. Embarrassed, Draco smiled sheepishly and blushed. "Yes well, it takes years of skill to get this kind of grace. Can't blame the oaf I suppose." At his last comment Harry, Terry and Lisa simply rolled their eyes at Draco's ego, though others were less impressed. "Shut up Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil. "Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Replied Pansy. Harry didn't hear the rest as the four houses broke into an arguement and he walked over to an object hidden in the grass. The remembrall, for that's what it was, glinted in the sunlight, before turning black at Harry's touch. Worried, he pulled in his aura again, and the orb turned clear. "Hey Harry, what have you got there?" He turned quickly to find the muggleborn from the train, and the ginger close behind. He shrugged, quickly vanishing the object into his robe pocket before they could see. He'd give it to the boy later. The girl, Hermione, walked up to him, and claimed rather bossily, "You aren't in the right house you know." He frowned, confused by what that idiotic statement was supposed to mean. "I've read all about you, and you're supposed to be in Gryffindor like your parents. Not Ravenclaw, and definitely not friends with Slytherin's. Don't you know? They're the bad house! You know who came from that house!" Harry almost laughed at that. "No one knows what house they are in until the hat tells them, I'm not supposed to be in Gryffindor. I'm in Ravenclaw because I'm smart enough to know that you shouldn't believe everything you read." He made to walk away after that, but Ron Weasley stepped in his way. "You're mute!? Mate, how are you supposed to cast spells an be a hero if you can't even talk. Just say something!" Finally Harry had enough. "I'm not your mate, just stay the hell away from me! Both of you." Harry was sorely tempted to curse the boy, but he was supposed to be keeping a low profile. A simple levitating charm had the boy flying up, getting caught in the branches of a nearby tree. Quickly, he walked over to the rest of the class, who were staring confused at both him and the Ginger menace. He grabbed his friends and began to walk over to the greenhouses, not wanting to get caught.