Chapter Text
In the end it was decided Harry would stay in Gryffindor, since the hat refused to come near him again. Harry liked Gryffindor tower well enough, although he might have preferred the dungeons. There wasn’t even a proper cupboard for him to haunt here and he had to sleep in a bed.
Bed problems aside, the tower was alright. There were so many people feeling so many different things. There were windows looking out over the grounds, nice couches and chairs, a radio playing strange wizard channels.
But he had to stay away from the fireplace, since people complained when it went out, and no one except Ron and Hermione seemed to like him at all.
But when he tallied up Gryffindor Tower against Privet Drive, the tower won out by a landslide. The amount of different emotions he could feed on would have been enough for it to win out, but when you added the fact that here there were two whole people who liked him… Well, the Dursleys couldn’t even see him.
It was during the feast last night that Harry discovered Ron wasn’t mute after all. Not because Ron said anything, but because one of his brothers told him. Harry wasn’t entirely sure if it was a joke or not, and was very relieved when Ron proved his brothers right later that morning.
He made up for his earlier silence by talking all throughout breakfast. He spoke so much and so fast even Hermione was impressed, which was saying something.
“That was so boring. How did you two not fall asleep?” Ron asked as they left history. Hermione scoffed.
“It’s history, not a bed-time story. It’s interesting. Right, Harry?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.” Ron looked confused, while Hermione looked appalled.
“But you were staring at him the entire time!” she said.
“Exactly. History is my chance to properly study a ghost without it running away from me.” They all shuddered. The shrieks of the Hogwarts ghosts when they saw Harry as they were waiting to be sorted still fresh in their minds. “I don’t think Binns even noticed I was there.”
He’d come to a few conclusions already. Ghosts were, as the headmaster had said, indeed transparent. Ghosts could float just like Harry, but they could fly higher and go through solid walls and ceilings, unlike Harry. Most interestingly, ghosts tasted much stronger than humans.
“I wonder how close I can get before he notices…”
His other classes were just as fun as History. He learned about plants in Herbology, looked at the stars in Astronomy, impressed Flitwick in Charms by already knowing how to cast Lumos and did not impress McGonagall with his unchanged match.
Defence Against the Dark Arts was different. Different because the teacher never showed up. They had two Defence classes that week, and he didn’t show up for either of them. It was disappointing, but he was quickly distracted by their final class of the week.
Potions.
“What’s his problem with you, Harry? Did you do something to him? He really seems to hate you.”
Harry shook his head mournfully. “I didn’t do anything. Snape just hates dementors.”
Hermione gasped in shock. “He’s a racist?!”
“Yes. He said it should be illegal for dementors to go to Diagon Alley.”
“That’s horrible!”
“There’s nothing to do about it though.” Ron said. “He hates Fred and George as well, and even when they complained no one ever stopped him.”
“No, I won’t stand for this!” she said, gesticulating wildly. “We’re going to tell McGonagall.”
“Are you here to ask about Defence as well?” McGonagall asked when they entered her office.
“No,” Hermione said, appointing herself as their spokesperson. She was so incensed she’d not just dragged Ron by the hand, but Harry as well. She hadn’t even flinched at the cold. “Professor Snape hates Harry because he’s racist against dementors and someone has to stop him.”
“Oh dear,” McGonagall said, “Not him as well.”
“As well?” Harry asked warily.
McGonagall sighed. “I’m afraid the reason professor Quirrell hasn’t been to your classes is because he is deadly afraid of dementors. I was going to ask if you’d be alright with tutoring from your fellow students and self-study, but we can’t very well do that for potions as well…”
Hermione gasped at the revelation of hatred from yet another professor. Ron winced. Harry didn’t react much at all.
“I’ll have to discuss this with the headmaster. I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow.”
“I guess I won’t go to defence,” Harry said once they were back in the common room. “I don’t want you guys to miss out on class because of me.”
“No!” Hermione said. “If you can’t go, I won’t either. This is discrimination! I won’t stand for it!”
“Yeah, me neither, mate. We’ll stick with you.”
Harry’s vision blurred. “Thanks guys.”
The next morning McGonagall let them know Harry was not allowed to attend defence, but he could continue to attend potions. Dumbledore assured her, she assured them, that Snape assured him he would behave.
Hermione and Ron promptly informed her they wouldn’t go to defence either. McGonagall just sighed, handed them a list of older students willing to tutor them, and wished them luck.
Snape wasn’t any better. It only got worse after Ron called him a racist to his face.
“It’s not racist to not want a demon in my classroom sucking all the happiness away from me and my students!” he raged.
“Don’t like the competition, do you?” Harry muttered. His comment went unheard as Ron bellowed;
“There’s no happiness to be sucked out of any room with you in it!”
Only the sound of their boiling potions could be heard. Everyone held their breaths, awaiting Snape’s outburst. Somehow, none came. He turned to Hermione. “Do you have something to say as well?” he asked. Harry turned to her, only to see the most innocent blank confusion in her expression.
“Why, sir? They’re only telling the truth.”
Needless to say, none of them would be allowed to return. They left the dungeons for the last time. Ron filled with pride, Hermione smug and satisfied, and Harry- Harry was just so incredibly happy to have such great friends.
While their classmates went to defence with Quirrell and potions with Snape, Harry, Ron and Hermione diligently went to the library for self-study. With Hermione’s dedication and the help from Ron’s older brothers, Harry had no doubt they would succeed.
Harry got three presents for Christmas. An invisibility cloak, a sweater, and a pair of gloves. Harry promptly decided he would never take any of them off ever again. With his gloves, he could touch people without freezing them. His sweater had an ‘H’ on it and it was handmade by Ron’s mother and he loved it so so much. The cloak had been his father’s, and the fact it made him invisible was almost negligible beside that fact.
That’s not to say he didn’t love being invisible, of course. No, for the first time in months, Harry felt truly comfortable again gliding through a crowd, feeding on emotions with no one the wiser, no one staring. After a lifetime of being invisible, having everyone stare at him every second of the day was exhausting and weird, and he was extremely happy to not have to deal with it anymore.
That was until three days later when Ron finally convinced Harry he couldn’t be invisible all the time.
They didn’t find another use for the cloak until Hermione returned to the castle. She raced at them like a whirlwind of ideas and plans, and soon enough Harry was roped in. Harry sneaked into both potions and defence under his cloak.
When he reported back to his boss, she grinned, utterly satisfied, and said, “We’re months ahead of the curriculum.”
After a moment of stunned silence, Harry and Ron grinned as well. (Harry was immensely proud neither of his friends flinched when he smiled anymore.)
“You know what’s weird?” Harry asked a few months later.
“What?”
“Quirrell tastes like two different people at the same time. I’ve never seen that before.”
Hermione froze for a moment, in that pose Harry had come to know as her rapid thinking pose, then burst into movement once more. “We have to tell McGonagall!”
And so they did tell McGonagall, who told the headmaster, who promised to look into it.
Quirrell vanished soon after without a trace or explanation. Some said he was fired, others said he fled. Fled from what? No one knew.
Their exams went well. Ron floated on a cloud of pride all week. He was the only one in his family to take two whole subjects as only self-study. Hermione’s grins were so sharp and violent that everyone in the vicinity flinched. And Harry was happy to have made friends who would stand with him no matter what. They even both invited them to their houses over the summer, even though Hermione’s parents wouldn’t be able to see him, and Ron’s parents didn’t have a lot of money.
Harry thought that if he could have this, then there was no need to ever return to the cupboard under the stairs.