The World Beyond

Chapter Three: Introducing the Gryffindors

Harry's first thought upon stepping through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room was that it was exactly the same as he remembered. It was still decorated brightly in the house colors of red and gold. The same paintings decorated the walls and the same furniture sat in roughly the same places.

His second thought was that he would really like to turn and run back out of the room. That didn't look like it would be an option for him, however; he was sandwiched between Padma Patil on one side and Fred and George on the other and they were all pulling him towards the center of the room. It was absolutely packed with people. Clearly, no one had decided to spend his or her evening in the library, a dorm room, or anywhere else, for that matter.

Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were sitting with a group of boys by the window. One of the boys, who Harry couldn't see clearly, was polishing a broomstick. Katie Bell and a girl Harry didn't recognize were sitting by the fireplace doing each other's nail polish. As he glanced around him, Harry realized that, for all the people who were packed into the common room, he didn't see Hermione anywhere.

"Everyone, listen up!" Padma called out, but her voice was not loud enough to catch the attention of even those nearest to her.

Fred shook his head at her, "Let me do this. I'll show you how it's done." With that, he took a deep breath and gave an ear splitting whistle. Several students covered their ears as everyone quieted and turned to look at him.

"Thank you," Padma rolled her eyes at Fred. "Now," she raised her voice so everyone could hear her, "I have an announcement to make. This," she indicated Harry, who was standing a few feet away by George, "is Harry Potter. He'll be a new student here in Gryffindor, in fifth year..."

"Hey, wait a second!" a voice called out from behind a group of people. For a second it was quiet, then the crowd split open and a tall boy stepped out in front of Harry. It was the boy who had been polishing the broomstick and in a second, Harry realized: it was Neville Longbottom. "What is this?"

"Who is this is a better question," Fred countered. "He's Harry Potter, like Padma just said. New student. Now be nice, shake hands." Neville glared at Fred and turned to Padma.

He seemed to consider her for a second, and then spoke, "What do you mean a new student? In fifth year? Is that even possible?" Then, his eyes narrowed as he got to what was really important to him, "How come I didn't know about this?"

"I didn't know about it either, Neville," she tried to placate him, but he wouldn't have it.

"You bloody well did! You just introduced him!"

Padma rolled her eyes. Harry got the feeling she was used to dealing with outbursts like this from Neville. "I met him in the hallway, right outside the portrait. He was with Fred and George and they didn't know the password. Would you have had me leave them out there so that you might meet him first?"

Neville stared at the group of them for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he sorted out in his head what he wanted to say next. Harry got the idea that he would have liked her to do just as she had said. Finally, he took a step forward, placing himself right in front of Harry, and then turned to look at George. "Why did you know about this? You aren't even a prefect last I checked!"

"Met him on the train," George answered easily, shrugging his shoulders.

"The platform, actually," Fred corrected. "At King's Cross. He was lost and all alone. Naturally, dear brother George and I took him under our wing. And I do say he's better for it."

"Sure," Neville snorted.

"All right, all right," another voice interrupted, and suddenly Katie Bell was standing just behind Neville, her brand new red nail polish glinting with the reflection of a nearby candle. "Neville, do calm down. This really isn't something to get upset over. Padma met him first, but you'll be sharing a dormitory with him, I'm sure you'll get to find out all about him." She turned to face Harry, "Harry is it? Harry Potter?" she smiled at him as he nodded, "well, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Katie Bell, head girl, so if there's anything you need to help you feel at home, just let me know, all right?"

Harry nodded quickly with a half smile. So far so good. Everyone, with the possible exception of Neville Longbottom, had been open, accepting, and nice. His confidence was growing when Seamus Finnegan came over to the front of the group with a curious look on his face.

"Which school did you go to before?" he asked. "I mean, mum's always said Hogwarts was the only wizarding school in the UK." Harry froze. All eyes were on him and he didn't know what to say. Even Fred and George seemed to have abandoned him this time; he thought he could hear Fred trying to hold back unsympathetic laughter.

"I..." Harry began. "You won't have heard of it," he finally said, hoping this would satisfy the crowd. He was wrong.

"We might've," Seamus countered. The other Gryffindors seemed to be in agreement with him.

Harry sighed, "Well... you won't have if you think Hogwarts is the only school here, will you? Really, it's just a very small place, I doubt you will have ever even heard its name."

"We..." Seamus began again, but Harry cut him off before he got stuck with another question he didn't know how to answer.

"Where is Hermione? Is she here?"

Neville scoffed disdainfully, "She knows about you, too? She can't remember how to keep a cauldron in one piece or turn a hedgehog into a pincushion, but this she knows?"

"I met her on the train," Harry defended her. It seemed like he would be the only person to do so. "What's wrong with her, why does everyone talk so badly about Hermione?"

"There's nothing wrong with her, exactly..." Padma began. "She's really sweet, and all, and her heart's in the right place, it's just..."

"She's a disaster," Parvati supplied, glancing at the crowd to make sure Hermione wasn't amongst them. "Honestly, it's just not safe to be around her, if magic is involved. So we all kind of, you know, steer clear..."

Harry glanced incredulously around at the group of Gryffindors. He had gotten the idea that Hermione wasn't the genius witch he remembered, but this reaction from his housemates was almost too much to believe. After a moment he said, "It's obvious why you aren't Hufflepuffs..."

"What?" Neville asked quickly and Harry realized he had spoken out loud.

"Oh, um," Harry began to clarify, "Hufflepuff is the house for loyal people, right? That's what you said, Fred, George?" he turned to his friends who both nodded their agreement though they could not remember telling him anything of the sort. "Well, she's your housemate! Never mind if she's a 'disaster', as you put it. She's a Gryffindor and you shouldn't treat her like that."

"You'd think she was your girlfriend already, my God," Neville groaned. "Well, she's over there, usually." He pointed past Harry and the crowd split behind him. Sure enough, Hermione could be seen sitting alone on a sofa in the corner. A stack of textbooks was piled on the table in front of her and a parchment notebook lay open in her lap.

Harry glared at Neville for the girlfriend comment and turned away from Fred, George and the others. Hermione didn't look up or acknowledge him in any way as he walked over to her and he arrived at her side unnoticed.

"Can I sit down?"

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice and her notebook fell from her lap to the floor. "Oh, Harry, I..." she mumbled around a Muggle pen clutched between her teeth. "Yes, of course, sit," she scooted over and made room for him at the edge of the sofa. Harry could feel other peoples' eyes on him as he sat down beside her.

"Surely you don't need to be looking at these already," Harry commented, grabbing the top book from the stack. "Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5," he read.

"I need all the help I can get," Hermione countered. "If it means spending my first evening back reading, then I will."

The common room had returned to normal quickly as the Gryffindor students realized Harry wasn't going to tell them anything interesting about himself or his old school. Harry relaxed more in his seat as he began to realize people were for the most part no longer watching him. He could hear Fred and George talking in exaggerated whispers not far away; they were discussing a prank they had pulled off last year, clearly hoping to be congratulated on their past success.

Harry laughed to himself as Hermione scooped her notebook from the floor and set it on the table in front of her. She pulled the pen from her mouth and set it on top. "A Muggle pen?" Harry asked, reaching out to pick it up. He grabbed it with two fingers, and then dropped it immediately, "Ew, it's covered in slobber!"

"It was in my mouth," Hermione laughed, a smile finally crossing her face. "What did you expect?"

Harry wiped his hand across his robes, "I don't know. Less slime, I suppose."

"It's hardly slime," she countered, laughing again.

Suddenly, they were both aware of people staring at them again. Harry didn't look around, but he heard whispers of, "Is Hermione laughing?" and "Has she gotten her nose out of a book long enough to have a friend?"

"Ignore them," Harry muttered, seeing a tear in Hermione's eye. He found it hard to follow this advice himself, though, and was wishing more than ever that he might be able to return to his own world. Before he even realized he was speaking, the words, "You remind me of someone," had slipped from his mouth.

"Really?" Hermione asked with a blush. "Let me guess, a complete failure of a witch, ostracized by her would-be friends in an effort to protect themselves from danger?"

"Nothing of the sort!" Harry exclaimed, his voice a bit louder than he would have liked; again, many Gryffindors glanced in their direction, but quickly returned to their previous activities. Harry was glad he was proving to be generally boring enough that the novelty of his newness didn't require him to remain the center of attention. "You remind me of my best friend. Well, one of my two best friends, that is. The Muggle-born one I mentioned on the train. She's the brightest witch in our year, but she still always has her nose in a book."

Hermione sighed wistfully, "I would never spend all my time reading if I was that bright. I would spend time with people, not textbooks. Maybe then I would have friends."

"Surely..." Harry began, but then realized that, based on the behavior of the other Gryffindors, she might not have any friends. "Well, on the train, Fred and George, they..."

"Oh, sure," Hermione scoffed. "They'll defend me, especially to a Slytherin. Especially, especially to a Weasley or a Malfoy. But friends? Not really. And they're about the nicest. Parvati and Padma... they're my roommates, and we get along, sure. We even have fun together, sometimes. In our dorm room, or Hogsmeade, maybe. But no one wants to be near me when magic is involved. They're all too afraid they might get caught in the way of a spell gone wrong, or an exploding cauldron. I don't blame them, really."

It was a moment before Harry spoke. "I'm really sorry, Hermione. I... well, I hope we can be friends, at least."

She eyed him warily, "Why? Because you feel sorry for me?" When he began to shake his head no, she interceded, "Or because I remind you of your old friend?"

"Because you seem like a nice person," he said decisively. "Because I don't know that I want to be friends with people who would ditch you just because you're not as good at magic as they are. Because I don't know that these people wouldn't like me just because I'm new. You and I could band together, I guess. The outcasts."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling brightly underneath. "I'd like that. To be friends, I mean. You seem like a nice person, too, Harry. And I hope I can live up to the image of your old friend, the one I remind you of. Just don't not be friends with everyone else because of me."

"Oh I don't think I will," Harry said. "Fred and George did seem nice enough. And Dean and Seamus seemed like they'd be up for some good Quidditch talk any day. I will be rooming with them, after all."

"Quidditch!" Hermione snorted. "Is that all you boys ever think about?"

Harry pretended to look insulted, "I happen to like Quidditch! Played seeker at my old school!"

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," Hermione began, but stopped at the sound of his laugh. "You we're joking. You weren't really insulted."

"No, I wasn't."

She nodded, "Okay. But, really, Quidditch is all any of the boys here ever talk about. Hey!" she paused thoughtfully, "you aren't related to that Quidditch player, are you? He's quite famous. I'm not sure what his name is. I mean, Potter, of course, but I don't know what his first name is."

"Dean. Or it was Seamus. One of them, anyway, asked me the same thing," Harry mused. "I don't think I am. No one's ever told me I was related to a famous Quidditch player. The only famous Quidditch player I've ever met is..." and then he stopped short. He was about to say Viktor Krum, but realized he had no way of knowing if the Bulgarian star from his world even existed in this one. "Um, no one, I've never met any Quidditch players." Hermione didn't seem to be buying that, so he changed the subject back to what it had been, "Who does this Potter play for? Is he good?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose in thought, "Um, the Cannons, I think. The Chudley Cannons. And, yes, he's supposed to be quite good. Do you mean you've never even heard of him?"

"I..." Harry stalled, realizing that it didn't make sense for a Quidditch fan not to have heard of such a famous player. "I just... haven't had much time lately to keep up with it, is all."

Harry was saved from having to answer any more questions on the subject by a bright light flashing in his face and momentarily blinding him. As his vision returned to normal, he saw that Hermione had also been hit by the light, and she knew the source. "Colin!" he heard her exclaim.

Sure enough, Colin Creevey stood directly in front of Harry and Hermione, camera clutched tightly in hand, large grin plastered across his face. "Sorry, Hermione, didn't mean to blind you there. Just had to preserve the moment for posterity."

"What moment?" Hermione grumbled, a self-defeating tone creeping back into her voice. "The moment when the near-squib finally gets a friend?"

"Well," Colin began, "I was going to say the moment a new boy arrives in fifth year, but yours works, too, I suppose. Although, I think the proper term is near-Muggle, for our sort."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed.

Colin whirled to look at him. "Oh, sorry," he laughed. "Colin Creevey, nice to meet you."

"Colin's a Muggle born, too," Hermione said to Harry. "That's what he meant by the near-Muggle comment. And he's right. And don't worry, he won't be snapping pictures of you during the night, I don't think."

At Harry's confused expression, Colin laughed again, "I'm a fifth year, too. So we'll be roommates. And Hermione's right, I don't have any strange fetishes that cause me to sneak around photographing my roommates as they sleep."

"You're a fifth year?" Harry squeaked. He was not thrilled at the prospect of sharing a room with any Colin Creevey, even if this one didn't hero-worship him. But, as he thought about it, it made sense. This boy was older than the Colin he remembered, and had clearly grown more than was likely if it had just been a summer since they had seen each other last.

"Absolutely. It's great, isn't it, to finally be one of the older people here? Mind if I sit?" he pushed some of Hermione's books out of the way and perched on the edge of the table. "Already to work, I see, Hermione. You do give it a rest over the summer, don't you?"

"I don't go the entire summer without looking over my books, if that's what you mean," Hermione sounded shocked. "I'd forgot the little I manage to learn if I did that. But," she conceded, "I don't study quite so hard."

Colin laughed, "Even my hard-working Hufflepuff of a brother doesn't work this hard." He paused for a moment. "Has it gotten quiet in here or something?"

Harry and Hermione both looked up then and glanced around the room. Though not entirely empty, it was quickly clearing out. "Wow," Hermione exclaimed, looking at a watch that had been hidden under the sleeve of her robes. "It is getting fairly late, I had no idea. I really ought to be getting to bed."

"Sad as I am to admit it, we all ought to," Colin said. He stood up and pulled out his wand. Before Harry had time to consider what he might be doing with it, he had muttered a few words and Hermione's textbooks were stacking themselves up. A swish of his wand later, and the enormous pile was floating up the staircase towards the girls' dormitories. "Thought you could use some help," he shrugged his shoulders as Hermione blushed. "Well, Harry, how about I show you up to our room?"

Harry nodded his assent, "All right. Well, good night, then, Hermione."

Colin echoed the sentiment and the three parted ways as Harry was led up the familiar staircase towards an all too familiar dorm room.

------------------------

The halls of Hogwarts buzzed with activity the following morning as the Great Hall emptied of the last few stragglers from breakfast. Harry and an assorted bunch of his fellow Gryffindors were among this group. Upon first waking up in the morning, Harry had thought his experience of the day before had been only a dream. His relief had been quickly dashed, however, when he pulled back the curtains of his four-poster bed and was met with the sight of a sleepy Colin Creevey emerging from his own bed.

A hot shower and a stomach full of breakfast had put Harry back into the state of mind to accept the strange new reality he continued to find himself in. As the fifth year Gryffindors walked en masse into the entrance hall, Neville moaned from behind him, "Potions first. Always potions. Honestly, I just don't see the point in taking that class. The time could be put to much better use at Quidditch practice."

"The rest of us might disagree, Neville," Parvati shook her head at him. "You're the only one on the Quidditch team, remember."

"That might change," Neville stuffed his crumpled schedule into his robe pocket. "We do need a new keeper, you know. Haven't been able to find a good one since Wood graduated. We had such a horrible season last year," he clarified for Harry's sake. "Do you play?"

"Seeker," Hermione butted in. "That's right, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, "I do, well, I did. At my old school, I played seeker for Gryf... for my house team."

"See, then, Harry appreciates what I'm trying to say," Neville said as he stepped into a position to lead the rest of the group toward the potion's classroom. "Quidditch is far more useful, in the long run, than potions could ever be."

"Absolutely," Harry nodded. "I mean if your professor is anything like... is Professor Snape the potion's master here, too?"

The group stopped in its tracks as the words slipped out of Harry's mouth. Harry stopped walking, too, and looked back at them, their mouths collectively hanging open as they stared in shock at him. It only took him a second to realize his mistake. "Oh, um..." he tried to force a way out of this situation to present itself to him.

"Do you know him?" Neville's voice squeaked with excitement. This was not the reaction Harry was expecting. "Snape? Severus Snape? Do you really know him?"

Harry glanced at the faces around him. Each of them, even Hermione, looked equally excited by this prospect. Harry couldn't begin to imagine what to say to this, but before he could misspeak again, Dean was talking.

"Have you only met him, or do you really know him? Did he teach a class at your old school?" Dean was bouncing slightly on his feet.

"But wouldn't he teach Quidditch?" Padma asked. "That would make more sense than potions, wouldn't it?"

Parvati glanced at her twin and then back to Harry, "Well, maybe it was just a favorite of his at school. We could ask McGonnagall, she probably knows. Wasn't she teaching here when he was in school?"

"Oh I wish I had been here then," Padma sighed.

"Potter was in school with him, too, you know. Apparently they were best mates even then. And now on the best team in England together," Neville was still brimming with excitement. "But, of course, you must know that, Harry. If you know him. Do you think I could meet him sometime, maybe?"

Harry's mind was reeling. He hadn't blown his cover yet, thankfully, but he had still gotten himself into a sticky situation, to say nothing of the fact that the idea of Parvati and Padma getting dreamy over Snape was almost more than he could bear. "I, um, don't know him. Not the Quidditch player, that is. I was thinking of someone else. My, um, my old potions professor knew of another professor named Snape, and I... I thought he might have taught here."

They all seemed to buy his excuse, but Neville, especially, looked quite disappointed in Harry. "Fine, then," he muttered. "Let's get to class." With that, Neville started quickly off down the hallway. The others followed him, but Hermione hung back with Harry.

"He'll get over it," she commented. "But it might take a while. The Cannons are his favorite. It is a shame, though. I mean that you don't know him. Even I would've loved the chance to meet Snape. Or Potter. But I won't hate you for it, don't worry. Come on, class is this way," she grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction the others had gone.

They soon arrived at the dungeon classroom. The door was only just slipping shut behind the other Gryffindors as Harry and Hermione approached. "The professor is head of Hufflepuff house," Hermione told him as she pushed the door open. "He's usually pretty fair, too, even with my cauldron melting problem..."

"Well, well, well," a voice drawled as they entered the classroom. "If it isn't the candidate for St. Mungo's Mental Ward." Harry didn't have to look to see whom the voice belonged to, but he glanced to his left anyway and saw Ron sitting next to Draco. The red head was smirking at him while Draco laughed out loud. Many of the other Slytherins joined him in his laughter. Harry stiffened at the harsh words coming from someone who looked so like his friend. Hermione seemed to be trying to hide behind him and looked perfectly happy for Harry to remain the target of their taunting.

"Hey!" exclaimed Neville, suddenly in front of Harry and towering menacingly over the still-seated Ron.

"Hey what?" Ron taunted, standing up. He was now face to face with Neville; their noses were practically touching.

The sound of the door slamming open caught everyone else's attention, but Neville and Ron didn't waver. "Now, now," an adult voice called out, sounding as though this situation was far too routine. A tall, brunette man who looked vaguely familiar to Harry was striding toward the two boys. "Really," he chastised while physically separating them, "is it necessary to start every term with your petty bickering?" He pushed Ron back down into his chair and directed Neville back to his before taking notice of Harry. "Oh, Mr. Potter, is it? Our newcomer, good! Yes, why don't you take a seat?" he motioned towards an empty table at the back of the room.

Harry made his way to the table and motioned for Hermione to join him. She came quickly and slid into the seat beside him, clearly happy to have somebody want to be her potions partner. The professor walked the rest of the way up to his desk and dropped the things he had been carrying on top of it. The class passed a few moments in silence as they watched him prepare for the lesson, and then he turned to face them.

"Welcome, Gryffindors," he smiled. "And welcome Slytherins. Welcome to your fifth year at Hogwarts School..."

"It's Scarhead's first year here," Draco called out.

Without missing a beat, the professor turned to face Harry. "Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Potter. Despite Mr. Malfoy's, shall we say, tactless, way of putting it, this is your first year here, isn't it? And it has slipped my mind, I suppose, that while I know a bit about you, you haven't a clue who I am, have you?" Harry shook his head in agreement with this statement. "Well, we'll have to fix that," the professor strode over to Harry, his hand extended. Harry took the hand in his own and began to shake as the professor said, "I'm Professor Riddle."

Harry's eyes widened, "Professor Riddle?"

"Yes, indeed. Potions master and head of Hufflepuff House. Professor Thomas Riddle."

Harry dropped the hand he had been shaking in shock and jerked almost unconsciously backwards, "Tom Riddle?" his voice squeaked unnaturally as the students all turned to stare at him.

"Yes," the professor's happy persona was shaken by Harry's dramatic reaction. "Do we know each other?" Harry continued to stare back at his new professor in shock. He realized now that the man looked familiar because he was clearly an older version of the young man he met three years ago in the Chamber of Secrets. Nothing Hermione had said in favor of this professor, or even the man's cheerful exterior, could wipe the vision of Lord Voldemort, freshly risen in the graveyard, from Harry's mind.

After a few moments tense silence, Professor Riddle seemed to recognize that he was going to get no response from Harry. He took a moment to compose himself again, and then returned to the front of the classroom to begin his lecture. Harry watched after him in quiet shock as Hermione pulled out her notebook, quill, and ink. He still did not move, so she reached into his bag and retrieved his needed supplies, as well. After she placed them on the desk in front of him, she elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"Harry!" she hissed. Startled, he glanced at her.

"What? What is it?" his voice was shaky as every memory he had of Voldemort pounded through his head. He could almost hear this professor's voice saying "Kill the spare!"

"Class has started, what's wrong with you?" she nodded her head toward the front of the room and Harry was jerked back to reality. "Anyway, Malfoy and Weasley will only think worse of you after this incident."

Harry glanced at the two offending classmates, and then turned to Hermione. He, like the professor, was beginning to regain his composure. "It's nothing," he shook his head. "Just... Voldemort..."

"Who?" she whispered. "Really, Harry, maybe the Slytherins are right. You do seem a little off today..."

Harry shook his head and turned back to face the teacher. He fumbled to get his notebook open, grabbed a quill, and prepared to take notes on their first potion of the year. Hermione glanced warily at him, but proceeded to do the same.

To be continued...

Scenes from Chapter Four: McGonagall's Questions

- "Oh?" Parvati grinned at him, the potions project momentarily forgotten. "Do tell, Mr. Potter. Were you quite the troublemaker at your old school? Can we expect similar antics from you now?"

- "Skittles," the headmistress said, and the entrance jumped to life. As they made their way up to her office, McGonnagall turned to Harry, "A Muggle candy I'm particularly fond of, you know. And I do hope that I won't later find you have spread it about the entire school. Hardly a point to a password, is there, if everyone knows what it is."

"Of course not, professor," Harry answered quickly, suppressing a snicker at her sudden similarity to Professor Dumbledore. "I mean, I won't tell anyone, of course."

Professor McGonnagall pushed open her office door and ushered Harry inside. As she shut the door behind them, Harry glanced in awe around himself at the office. It had the exact same structure as Professor Dumbledore's had.