Chapter 096

Of course, saying he was not the best usually implied that he was in second place, not tied for first. It was only due to Harry's innate competitive streak and sense of fair play that made him refuse to admit he was first in that class. Harry had several very distinct advantages over Neville, not the least of which was his eidetic memory. Despite the fact that Harry got perfect grades without even needing to do much studying beyond what he felt like doing to go above and beyond what was required in his academia, Neville was still tied with him for first. For this reason, Harry conceded that Neville was simply better at that particular subject than he was, painful though it was to admit.

"You're right about that," Terry said, his voice now clear after finally managing to regain control over his breathing. "Flitwick would definitely be amused to learn this. He'd probably get a few laughs even if he already knows."

Professor Filius Flitwick was definitely one of their favorite teachers. Unlike the stern Professor McGonagall, the scowling Snape, or the overly happy and cheerful Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick was the kind of teacher who was not only easy to talk to, but also had a sense of humor and didn't mind making fun of himself in order to get a point across.

That was not to say none of the other teacher's had their good points. Harry was actually quite fond of his Head of House, though a part of this may have been due to her partiality towards him. It was a very subtle thing, but it was quite clear to Harry that she favored him, in part due to his own talent in Transfiguration, but also because of who his parents were. He was not sure how he felt about that, as it was his belief that teachers should be impartial regardless of personal feelings.

Still, in spite of her favoritism he knew enough about the woman to know that, even if she did favor him, it would not be enough to keep him out of trouble should he actually do something that warrants a scolding. God only knows how many times she scolded his father for doing something stupid.

His musings on the various teachers and their methods of instructing students was halted when a stern and angry voice spoke to the group.

"Excuse me, but if you lot are going to continue to be so loud, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Harry turned to look at the angry form of Madam Irma Pince. Madam Pince was a very irritable-looking woman, the kind who looked like she might start spewing fire at the slightest provocation. She also reminded Harry of an underfed vulture. Her skin was rough and leathery, like parchment, her cheeks were sunken and hollow, her face was shriveled with wrinkles, and she had an unflattering hook nose. She was also very thin, something Harry noticed through her thick robes. Yes, underfed vulture was definitely the most apt description for her.

"I'm very sorry, Madam Pince," Harry said, bowing to the woman and adopting a regretful and properly chastised face. "I am afraid my friends and I were so caught up in some humorous facts we had learned while doing our homework that we forgot ourselves. I promise that it will never happen again."

If it were at all humanly possible and would not have given him away, Harry would have given himself a pat on the back for his acting skills. If being a wizard failed he could always just go to Hollywood and become a world famous actor, he thought with an amusement that he refused to show the others.

In the meantime, he would begin looking up silencing charms. While the standard muffling spell was useful, it not only didn't block out noise in its entirety, but only ensured that noise could not move through an inanimate object, such as a door or window. He would need something that created a bubble of silence between him and his friends and the rest of the world so they could talk with impunity.

Madam Pince continued to glare sternly at Harry as he stood up from his bow. Her angry gaze swept across to the other seven with him, all of whom except for Blaise flinched when it was directed at them. She eventually went back to looking at Harry, before giving him a stiff nod.

"See that it doesn't, Mr. Potter."

As the strict woman walked off, muttering about 'disrespectful brats who don't know how to respect her library' under her breath, Harry Potter turned around to see most of his friends staring at him in shock. Or as was the case with Tracey, awe.

"What?" he asked, actually feeling uncomfortable. He felt as if he had suddenly been put on the spot without knowing why. It almost reminded him of that 'Punked' show Lisa occasionally watched.

"How did you do that?" asked Tracey.

"Do what?" asked Harry, blinking several times before he realized what she was asking about. "You mean how did I get Madam Pince to not kick us out?" When Tracey nodded her head emphatically, looking almost like those bauble heads, he grinned. "Why do you want to know?"

"Why do I want to know?" Tracey parroted incredulously. "What do you mean 'why do I want to know?' Do you know how awesome it would be to get out of trouble with nothing but a few words? If I could do what you just did with my parents, I would never have to worry about being grounded for sneaking out into the backyard at night so I could fly my broom without supervision again."

Harry just barely withheld his snort. Leave it to Tracey Davis to get in trouble for something like that. If there was one thing he had learned about the Slytherin girl it was that she was one of the biggest broom fanatics this side of Hogwarts. She loved everything about brooms, every single fact and facet regardless of how useless, she knew it all. This, of course, included things like which Quidditch star used which brand of brooms, how long they had them, and how many times they had been forced to get them replaced for one reason or another; she even knew the reason each broom had been replaced.

She was also a complete Quidditch fanatic, and could debate facts on the sport for hours without end. Harry knew this from personal experience.

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