Harry's Background

Harry stifled a sigh of relief as he passed the hat to a very surprised Professor McGonagall, and allowed a polite smile to cross his face as he walked over to the Slytherin table, from which was emanating a scattered and cautious applause. The expressions on their faces could not be considered anything short of shock, and it was clear that none of them expected this, none of them at all.

He sat down between Theodore Nott and Tracey Davis, and vaguely registered their gobsmacked expressions.

Meanwhile, Malfoy glared at him. "You said your name was Tom Evans!" he hissed.

Harry smiled innocently at him. "I lied."

The Davis girl snickered beside him as they watched his face go red, and Nott stared at him with undisguised fascination.

A few moments later, the sorting ended with "Zabini, Blaise," who was sorted into Slytherin as well.

As soon as Zabini sat down beside Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet, shimmering purple and gold robe billowing out as he opened his arms welcomingly, beaming brilliantly at the students from behind his glittering half-moon spectacles.

"Welcome," he announced in a happy, warm voice. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He clapped his hands, and immediately a scrumptious-looking feast materialized on the long tables. It was less than a moment before all the left over excitement from the sorting morphed into hunger.

Harry's eyes remained fixed on the Headmaster, though. "So that's Albus Dumbledore..."

A boy across the table snickered. "A right nutter, that one."

To his right, Draco sneered. "My father says that every year Albus Dumbledore remains Headmaster, Hogwarts suffers for it."

Beside him on his left, an older boy spoke up. "I have to agree. He has no respect for tradition and pureblood society. He caters only to the halfbloods and muggleborn students."

Harry shook his head absently. "Does that really matter? He's one of the most powerful wizards alive...perhaps the most powerful. He defeated Lord Grindewald single-handedly. He must be an incredible dueler."

Millicent Bulstrode snorted. "You have a lot to learn, Potter."

Harry smiled. "I know. That's why I'm here."

Harry drowned the conversation out from there, having cast a weak disillusionment charm over himself with a whisper in an attempt to eat in peace, and be left to his own musings. Every so often, he would glance at the staff table, working from left to right, scrutinizing the faculty and committing their faces, garb, and demeanor to memory. These were the powerful witches and wizards Tom had warned him about. These were the people who would be watching over him, acknowledging every triumph and every blunder, for the next seven years.

It was interesting, watching them all. The nearly limbless professor, the stern Professor McGonagall, the cheery, grandfatherly Headmaster - they all had their own profiles, their own habits and mannerisms and smiles and frowns. It was a fascinating and enjoyable exercise in observation, or at least it was until he locked eyes with one Professor Severus Snape, and suddenly felt a great deal of guilt. The poor man...Tom really was very cruel to him...making him talk about his mother and then obliviating him after. He didn't seem like a very pleasant person, but Harry knew no one deserved to be treated like that.

His musings soon came to an end, though, because as his gaze traveled further to the right, he was suddenly seized by the overwhelming sensation of a pulsing pain in his scar. Immediately, his hand flew up to his face and he scrunched his eyes shut. Was Tom returning? No, it was too early for that. He had at least another 2 hours. He glanced up at the head table again, eyes resting on the turban-wearing figure beside the Potions Master.

"Potter...are you alright?"

Harry opened his eyes to see everyone in the immediate vicinity staring at him. Apparently, his disillusionment charm didn't hold up under the pain.

He steadied his breathing. "Yes, I...say, who is that man sitting beside Professor Severus Snape?"

"Oh, that's Quirrell, our Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. He just got back from Albania."

Harry nodded slowly. "Albania..."

"I heard he used to be the Muggle Studies professor," Parkinson sniffed disdainfully.

"Muggle studies?" Harry wondered aloud, "What's that?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," an older boy across the table said, curling his lip in disgust. "It's a class that studies muggles – a class no self-respecting Slytherin would take."

Harry's eyebrows went up.

"What do you think about muggles, Potter?" Malfoy spoke up with a yet another sneer on his face (indeed, Harry was starting to believe this was his default expression), obviously expecting him to come to the muggles' defence.

He'd have to disappoint him.

"I want nothing to do with them," he said candidly and without malice.

"And why's that?" Malfoy egged him on, obviously not able to take a hint.

Harry sighed. "Because I don't like them."

Malfoy sneered at him once again, but didn't continue the conversation.

Meanwhile, Theodore Nott looked at him curiously.

"That's a strange thing for the Boy Who Lived to say," he commented passively.

Harry swallowed the turkey he was chewing. "Is it?"

Nott nodded slowly. "One would expect one of your background to be more...sympathetic to the muggles."

Harry had to laugh a bit at that. He wasn't mocking Nott; it was just a funny thing to say. "My background? What could you possibly know about my background?"

"Your parents -"

"I don't remember them," Harry interrupted, not rudely. "It's just me, really. I have no background."

Nott looked at him appreciatively. "Fair enough."

"You have to have a background," Bulstrode interrupted suddenly, pointedly, "Somebody raised you."

Not really, Harry could not help but think. Well, Tom, of course, but he couldn't very well answer 'The Dark Lord.' No, that wouldn't go over very well, he imagined.

"I lived in someone's house and ate someone's food. Why does it matter whose house and whose food it was?" Harry asked frankly.

And finally, everyone started to take the hint. Harry Potter didn't want to talk about himself.

.....

Want to read ahead by 30+ chapters then join my patreon right now.

Free members an get up to 6 free chapters if you join my pa*treon as a free member right now.

Join now before it's too late.

Link: pa*treon.com/GalaxyWonder (Remove the *)