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Harry sighed. If this was what Footswitch had been aiming for when setting the essay - a division between purebloods and muggleborns - he'd certainly been successful.
Harry managed to make peace with Hermione, with each stiffly apologising for their behaviour but not for their opinions, and from then on they agreed not to discuss muggle-wizard relations. It wasn't an ideal solution to their differences since it only lead to them being rather awkward around each other, but - considering that Hermione was similar to the young and rather overbearing girl her counterpart had been before her run in with a troll - it was the best Harry felt he could hope for.
While Harry listened to her babble on about classes and how Professor Flitwick had praised her essay on the development of the levitation charm, he couldn't help thinking wistfully of hisHermione. The one who'd understood his past and why he wanted a total separation between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, who'd understood him. The younger Hermione would never be that woman, but Harry did hope she would gradually learn to keep more of an open mind.
She was at least beginning to tone down her behaviour slightly, though her views remained unchanged. Daphne had sort of taken the other girl under her wing, and Hermione seemed to accept her gentle hints and corrections better than she had Harry's rather clumsy attempts at the same thing. The bushy-haired girl had also begun spending a lot of time with the other muggleborns in their year, particularly the two Ravenclaws Terry Boot and Megan Jones. Harry wondered guiltily whether she regretted forcing the Hat to sort her into Slytherin.
On the morning of their first flying lesson, Hermione sat at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast while Harry ate with Draco and the rest of the Slytherins. Like the last time Harry had lived through this, the main topic of conversation was flying, with students boasting of harrowing mid-air encounters with herds of hippogriffs and muggle helicopters and the like. As before, Harry didn't believe any of these exaggerated tales.
"...and of course you and I have no need for any lessons on how to fly a broom," Draco was saying to Harry. "Really, what proper wizard hasn't flown before…"
"Mmhmm," Harry mumbled, not really listening to the blond. Instead he stroked Hedwig, who had swooped into the Great Hall with the other post owls, and fed her bits of bacon from his plate. "What've you got there, girl?" Harry examined the bulky letter clasped in Hedwig's talons.
The letter was from Sirius and contained news of his work at the Auror Office and his efforts to be Arcturus' dutiful Heir, as well as a stick of sickly-smelling incense and a pack of tarot cards. Apparently Sirius found it incredibly amusing that Harry had managed to fool everyone, including the all-knowing Dumbledore, into believing he was some sort of Seer.
"Ha ha, very funny Sirius," Harry muttered. Though he was glad Sirius was keeping busy and not letting himself fall into the depressed moods that sometimes grasped him. Harry had been worried about going to Hogwarts and leaving Sirius alone in Grimmauld Place, but apparently Andromeda, Remus, the other Aurors, and even Dobby were all keeping him from lapsing into darker thoughts.
Across the hall Neville had also received a package. Harry didn't have to see it to know it was a Remembrall, and sighed as he caught Draco eying the small orb in gleeful interest. As Draco made to stand, clearly intending to go and steal the thing, Harry grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him back down.
"Don't, Draco," Harry said.
Draco turned to him with an irritated frown. "What?"
"Don't go over there and tease Neville. He's not someone it's a good idea to pick on," Harry said. "You know how I mentioned that people you dismiss as unimportant now might become powerful in the future?"
"Yes, but… Longbottom? Really?" Draco glanced incredulously over at the Gryffindor table where Neville was holding the glowing red ball and screwing up his face as he tried to remember whatever it was he'd forgotten. "I heard his family didn't even think he had any magic before he got his Hogwarts letter. He's practically a Squib!"
It was certainly true that Neville had yet to successfully cast a single spell. Whenever he tried to perform magic during their classes he only managed to set things on fire or blow things up or something equally destructive. Harry hoped if he could only help Neville gain some confidence, the timid boy would grow into his powers like he had in Harry's old world.
"He has lots of magic. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll be an amazing wizard one day," Harry said, though Draco remained doubtful. Harry searched for a way to convince him. "Come on, why else would I have partnered with him in Potions?"
Draco shrugged. "I thought it was because your brewing skills would be sure to look good in comparison to Longbottom's bumbling efforts."
"Okay, true, but really it was because I wanted to get on Neville's good side," Harry said. "Someday he'll be an important and influential wizard, and when that day comes I intend to be his friend rather than his enemy."
"Do you know that from those Assessor abilities of yours?" Draco glanced over at Neville with a calculating look.
"Yep."
Draco seemed to think things over for a while, before coming to a decision. "Fine. I'll take your word for it. But Longbottom, really?"
"Yes really," Harry said, rolling his eyes at the blond's whinging tone.
Later on that day the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years all trooped outside onto the school grounds, where Madam Hooch was waiting with the rickety old school brooms lined up in front of her. Draco made sure to grab the best one for himself and saved another for Harry.
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