They Shook Hands : Year One (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year One

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Eleven - Once Again, With Feeling

After the Quidditch match, the girls had gone back to the dorm while Harry and the rest of the team changed out of their robes. The boys had snagged Harry as he left the changing rooms and pulled him behind Hagrid's hut to share the news about Snape and Quirrell. After they'd tricked the name 'Nicholas Flamel' out of Hagrid, they'd run back to the safety of the dungeons, and Tim had begun digging frantically through his box of Chocolate Frog cards.

"Where is it?" Tim half-shouted as he rummaged.

"Where's what?" Draco snapped at him. He was irritated; Tim had been ignoring all questions for the past few minutes.

"He's got to be here!"

"Are you saying that Flamel is on one of your bloody cards?" Draco asked, clearly driven past politeness.

"I know he's on one, I just don't know where it is!"

"Good luck digging through that odd thousand," Crabbe chimed in.

"Yeah," Goyle said. He looked at Harry. "Should we go tell the girls what we found out?"

"Definitely," Harry agreed. "They're clever, and the more clever folks we have working on this puzzle the better."

Harry pulled his cloak around his shoulders and followed Goyle out into the corridor. "Goyle, I want to thank you for helping out today. You probably saved my life." Harry didn't talk with Goyle a whole lot, but the boy was clearly a good person, so that situation would have to change.

Goyle blushed slightly. "Aw, it was nothing," he said. "You're my friend, Harry. I know I'm not quick, but I had to do something."

"Well I definitely appreciate it."

Goyle grinned at him and clapped him on the back with a big hand. "You watch my back, I'll watch yours."

Harry tried not to wince as his knees nearly buckled. Goyle was a strong boy. He knocked on the door in the girls' half of the corridor with the plaque reading 'First Years'. There was a short delay, then Blaise opened the door.

"Harry!" she cried, her worry evaporating like morning dew. She threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. "We were so worried! I thought you would plummet to certain death!"

Harry made a muffled sort of noise; he had accidentally got a mouthful of her loose, golden blonde hair. He hugged Blaise back, hard. He had hugged her several times since their talk on the battlements so many weeks ago, and the hugs always felt nice. Now he would never turn one down.

Soon Millie, Pansy, and Jenna were also hugging him. Harry wondered how anyone could say that Slytherins were cold and uncaring. His friends were the best people in the world.

"You're not hurt at all?" Pansy asked him again.

"I'm fine," he said. "Thanks to Goyle, that is." Goyle started flushing again.

"This great lunk?" Jenna said, ruffling the big boy's hair.

"I just started a couple of fires," Goyle said, clearly not used to being the hero.

"But that's just what was needed." Millie turned to Harry. "That's how jinxes work, see. If you're casting a jinx, you have to keep constant eye contact. You can't even blink."

"Draco and Tim told me all about what they saw. No clue whether it was Quirrell or Snape?" Harry asked.

"None," Jenna sighed, sitting down on her bed. "I thought it was all a bunch of poppycock myself, but I saw Snape going muttery-muttery. Then I saw Quirrell going muttery-muttery. So I don't know what's going on."

"Well I've got a bit of a clue that might help us figure out what's on the third floor," Harry interjected. He related the name that Hagrid had let slip: Nicholas Flamel. None of the girls recognized the name; Harry saw a bunch of blank faces.

"Well," he sighed, "Tim is tearing through his Chocolate Frog cards. If this Flamel is at all important, he'll be on one of those cards."

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Millie asked. She pulled off her pointed hat and threw it on her school trunk in frustration. "Whoever it was might try again."

"What I don't understand is why you're all so ready to say that Quirrell is the bad guy," Goyle said, sounding confused. "Why would be trying to kill Harry? He's not the one Harry saw sneaking around on Halloween."

The girls all looked back and forth at each other. Had they really overlooked that?

"Could Goyle have actually figured it out?" Pansy asked everyone. "Someone mark it down on the calender."

"If it's not Professor Quirrell," Blaise declared, "then we must deduce that Professor Snape is the miscreant."

"But Snape seems to like me," Harry protested. "After the first week I think I became one of his favourite students."

"I thought I was his favourite. He's always writing positive comments in my homework. Does he do that with you too?" Blaise questioned. Harry nodded.

"Then we still don't know what the blazes is going on, do we?" Millie asked, still sounding frustrated.

"Someone talking to me?" Blaise asked, snickering.

"Oh be quiet," Pansy sighed. "This is serious."

"So it's still a big mystery?" Millie questioned, not letting the point go unanswered.

"Guess so," Jenna said. "Oh well, at the rate we've been getting new clues, it won't be long now before Hagrid slips up and spills the tea."

Millie and Harry locked gazes. "He definitely knows what's going on," she said tentatively.

"No doubts," he said slowly.

"Do you think we ought to try to be a bit friendlier and see what information we can sneak out of him?" she asked him.

"Probably our best lead right now." Harry sighed. Hagrid had been decent enough, but he'd seen the big fellow drinking large quantities of wine every night at dinner. The rumours that Hagrid was a drunk were proving to be true.

"Are you actually suggesting spending more time with that foul-smelling ox?" Pansy sniffed derisively.

"Someone tried to kill me," Harry said firmly. "Before it was just a puzzle; now it's personal."

"Veracious!" Blaise cheered. "And when someone takes on one Slytherin, they'd do well to remember that we travel in packs."

* * *

The month of November slid by with little notice. Classes continued, as they were wont to do. The weather turned colder, and snow began to fall nearly every day. Clouds regularly filled the sky, ruining their Thursday night sky-watching.

Professor Sinistra complained bitterly about the state of the night skies, but she could do nothing about the clouds. She tried to reschedule their night-time gazing, but in the end, she threw her hands up and said she just didn't care anymore.

Astronomy had gotten interesting again, now that they were no longer doing rote memorization of star constellations. Now they talked about the planets, still learning the names of the moons, and studying their orbits, as well as delving into the mythos.

They made no further progress on discovering the identity of Nicholas Flamel. Millie's idea of sneaking the information out of Hagrid hadn't yielded results yet. She and Harry had taken to having tea with the big man every Friday afternoon, but he always guarded his speech carefully. Hagrid knew what they were trying to do, but apparently couldn't bring himself to tell Harry to not come back.

Draco had put his foot down; he made it clear that under no circumstances would he be roaming around the school at all hours looking for clues. He'd had quite enough adventures, though he described them as near-death experiences, thank-you-very-much.

So the question of just what was hidden in the third-floor corridor became of less and less importance. The Slytherins became more and more occupied with Potions, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry's time was further taken up by Quidditch practice. He often returned to the dungeons more closely resembling a popsicle than a boy, and the others regularly came to watch the team practice.

Perhaps most important to the Slytherins was keeping their word, Millie's word, to the Sorting Hat. Every night they loitered in the entryway to the Great Hall, cajoling their fellow students to sign their petition. By the last week of November, they'd collected what Millie deemed to be enough signatures, and had turned the whole thing in to Professor Snape after Potions class.

He'd raised an eyebrow, though he knew about their petition as all the staff did, and it was a mark of his confidence in them that he merely nodded and told them that it would be in the Headmaster's hands by dinner. That evening, after the plates had been emptied, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet and cleared his throat.

"I have received a petition initiated by the first year students of Slytherin House for the formation of a school choir. Now as you know, music has a magic all to itself, so I'm very pleased to announce that on Monday evenings after dinner, the new Hogwarts School Choir will meet right here in the Great Hall."

The old man's eyes were twinkling. He seemed to be in jolly spirits. He sat down and raised his goblet to his lips.

The Slytherin table burst into applause, the first years especially. Professor Snape, sitting at the High Table, also clapped his hands, a faint smile on his face. The rest of the hall joined in the applause, some people with more enthusiasm than others.

The tables filled with pastry, and the students began to speculate on who would be directing the choir. The first year Slytherins smirked knowingly at each other. They all knew that the director would be someone the other students would never suspect. That part of the petition had been obscured by a Confundus Charm courtesy of Elan Malfoy.

That evening back in the common room, the first years were congratulating themselves on a job well done. Millie was the star of the hour, for it had been she who had started things off.

"Speech!" Tim called.

"Hear, hear, speech!" Jenna echoed.

Millie grinned and got to her feet. "My fellow Slytherins," she began, spreading her arms broadly, as if to hug the whole room. Everyone in the common room applauded. Millie's voice carried very well. Erika Chabré, a second year, let out a piercing whistle that bounced off the stone walls.

"I would like to thank you all for signing our petition," Millie continued. "It means so much to me, and to all of us, to know that our House fully supports us."

Cheers and catcalls rose up from her audience. The cheers were from those who had voluntarily signed the petition. The catcalls came from those who had been threatened by Elan Malfoy with a sound hexing.

"We hope that you will all follow through on your interest in a choir. We'll see you all at the first meeting." Millie bowed from the waist, with the applause of her House rising around her.

The show over, the students all settled back into their routine. Every so often the first years would hear someone speculating over the identity of the choir director, and they smirked at each other some more.

As the night wore on, the first years tried to get their homework finished and out of the way so they could enjoy the weekend worry-free. Tim finished his first and went to bed early, claiming a headache. Draco kept yawning every three seconds and finally closed his Astronomy book and headed for the dorm. Goyle made it to eleven o'clock before he gave up studying.

Harry was at the table until quite late, reading his Transfiguration text. He still struggled in that class and was determined to improve his grade. He didn't remember his other friends leaving the table, just as he didn't remember falling asleep. He only realized it when he was shaken awake by Jessica Conejo, sixth year prefect responsible for the first years.

"Harry?" she said softly. "Harry, wake up now. It's time to go to bed."

Harry mumbled something and came half-awake. He yawned, peering around in the shadowy darkness. The fire in the fireplace had near to burned out, and the lamps which normally gave off their warm green glow had been extinguished.

Jessica was waking Pansy and Jenna as well. There was no one else in the common room. Harry yawned again and rubbed his eyes. He'd been sleeping on his books and could feel the imprint on his face. He slowly picked them up and began thrusting them into his bag.

Pansy and Jenna waved goodnight and went down the corridor towards their room. Harry was still putting his things away, moving very slowly.

"Harry, are you alright?" Jessica asked him. He looked up into her dark eyes, her pretty face framed by her black ringlets of hair. She had cut it, he noticed absently. Now it bobbed around her shoulders.

"Just very sleepy," he mumbled. She must have understood him, because she picked up his bag for him. She took his hand and led him down the corridor to his dormitory. Goyle's snores could be heard even through the thick oak door.

"Here you are. I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Harry," Jessica whispered, and she planted a kiss on his forehead.

He stumbled into the room and dropped his bag by his trunk. He didn't even get his glasses off before he pitched face down onto his bed and began sawing wood.

* * *

The weekend passed in a lazy manner. For some inexplicable reason they hardly had any homework, so the Slytherins were able to relax and enjoy each others' company.

Harry was getting rather good at quickly shuffling a pack of cards. He had also learned how to play Gobstones, a game played with coloured stones that spat foul-smelling liquid at you if you lost.

The first years went to bed late and got out of bed late all weekend. The slight break was very welcome, and they all took advantage of the chance to rest.

So, when Monday came around, they were all bright-eyed and perky in Herbology. Even those who didn't enjoy the class as much as the others were able to find interest in the lesson about the poinsettia, a seasonal plant that had been adopted into the Muggle world -- as a Christmas 'flower', of all things.

"Aunt Petunia puts those things all over the house at Christmas time," he whispered to Draco as they scribbled down notes.

"Idiot Muggles," his friend said with a sneer. "The plant has loads of magical uses, and they use it as a bloody decoration."

After the Herbology lesson, they were off to naptime in History of Magic where Professor Binns droned on and on, as usual. Also as usual, the only person paying attention was Hermione Granger. Even though the Professor never asked questions, her hand would occasionally go into the air, and she would practically bounce on her seat, eager for attention.

Blaise amused herself by mocking the other girl constantly, whispering in Harry's ear. Harry, finding Granger's attitude to be entirely funny, was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud and shame the House. Draco and Tim were whispering to each other on Harry's other side.

After lecture, Granger stayed behind to ask Professor Binns a question. A couple of girls from Hufflepuff tried to catch her attention, but she waved them on, presumably to lunch. Tim and Draco took up positions outside the door to the classroom.

When Granger had finished her business, she shouldered her bag and left the classroom. Tim pointed his wand just as she was stepping through the door and cast a Tripping Jinx. Granger stumbled and fell to the floor.

Harry was a bit shocked. Making fun of someone was one thing, but attacking a fellow student was quite another.

"Ow, what's the big idea?" she demanded. She rolled off her stomach and sat up, staring up at the Slytherins with a mixture of anger and fear.

"Oops," Tim said, with vast insincerity. "I was just showing my mates here a new jinx I'd picked up. What are you doing getting in my way, Mudblood?"

Harry started to step forward to say something, but Draco silenced him with a warning look.

"Leave me alone!" she protested, getting to her feet.

"You think an awful lot of yourself, don't you, Granger?" Draco said in his drawling tone of voice. "You act awfully superior, for a Mudblood."

"I-I don't know what you mean," she said, biting her lower lip, showing her large front teeth. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I don't even know you."

"And we don't want to know you," Pansy said scornfully. "So why not get out of here?"

Granger began backing away. "You all should just leave me alone," she said again. "I'm glad this is the only class I share with you, because I don't like any of you. Don't think I don't hear you whispering about me! I don't care about not being a pureblood, I'm happy in Hufflepuff!"

Before anyone could respond, she turned and ran away down the hall. Pansy laughed at her until she was out of sight.

"That was fun!" she declared. "I needed that. Prissy little snot with her hand in the air like some know-it-all teacher's pet."

"Probably the only reason she hasn't brought Binns an apple yet is because he couldn't eat it," Blaise said, curling her lip.

"Speaking of food, it's time for lunch," Crabbe interjected.

"Thinking about food again, fathead?" Draco jeered at him.

"My head's not fat!"

Harry was quiet on the way to lunch. The scene from after History class was rankling with him a bit. One the one hand, by her own admission, Granger was happy in Hufflepuff. On the other hand, she was being terrorized by Draco and the others. He wrestled with it awhile, but finally shrugged it off. Surely no lasting harm would come of it. After all, Dudley had bullied him for ten years, and Harry was none the worse for wear. It had toughened him up.

Everything would work out, he assured himself as he bit into a sandwich. Things always do.

* * *

That evening, the proto-choir remained in the Great Hall after dinner. There were about seventy students present, a turnout considerably larger than they'd expected. All the first year Slytherins were very pleased with themselves.

Professor Dumbledore came in through a side door, the Sorting Hat and stool in his hands. There was a murmuring sound as everyone wondered what was going on.

"Greetings, fellow musicians," the Professor said warmly. "I'm delighted that so many of you decided to attend. I hope you all enjoy your practice." He set the stool down, placed the Sorting Hat on top of it, and left.

There was dead silence. No one knew what to make of this twist. Then the tear in the Hat opened, and it began to speak.

"Good evening to you all! Thank you so much for coming to our first organizational meeting. I doubt we have enough time to practice any traditional holiday songs, so we're going to move right on into springtime music. Now then, I'd like all the young ladies who sing soprano here to my left, and those who sing alto to stand next to them. Young men who sing bass, here to the right, and tenors next to them. Boys! Please stand with the girls. Until your voices change, you'll be singing those parts."

Stunned, nobody moved.

"Come on now, come on. Don't just stand there, get organized!"

"This is insane!" A short Hufflepuff boy stepped away from the others. "This is a farce! I signed up for a serious choir! I'm not going to embarrass myself like this!" He walked out of the Great Hall. Several other students followed him.

"Anyone else think that this is all complete lunacy?" the Hat asked snappily.

No one answered.

"Right then. Does anyone have any requests for songs they'd like to sing?"

"Blow Away The Morning Dew," Blaise spoke up immediately.

"An old favourite!" said the Hat. "Someone else?"

"Sir Arthur and Charming Mollee," Tim contributed.

"A beautiful tune!" the Hat declared.

"England's Mountains Green," Millie spoke up, rather loudly.

"Not the proper title, but still excellent!" the Hat exclaimed. "Right! We'll also be doing This Is My Father's World, because I happen to like that song. I'll have sheet music for you all next week. For tonight, we're going to work on pitch and scales. First, warm-ups!" The Hat hummed a middle C, then ran up four notes evenly and loudly, before running back down to middle C.

"Now with me. Sing the notes with an 'ah' sound." Obediently, they 'ah'd up and back.

"Very good, very good," the Hat told them. "You there, Goyle. Move over to the tenor section please. Crabbe, you go with him. Again, everyone. This time starting one note higher." The Hat hummed a D and ran up four notes before sliding back down.

They followed, again making the 'ah' sound. They moved up one starting note, then another, and another, and another. Some of the older boys were having trouble reaching that octave. Finally they were starting from treble C.

The Hat kept going. Now none of the older boys were singing; their voices just didn't reach that range. Most of the girls and younger boys were still hitting the notes.

The Hat kept rising higher and higher, looking for the upper limit to the girls' voices. The last three still singing; a fifth year Gryffindor named Tiffany Trotter, a fifth year Ravenclaw named Penelope Clearwater, and a sixth year Slytherin named Elizabeth Archer, were singing notes far above the soprano range.

"Ladies, that was excellent! You'll be my leading soloists. Fawcett! You're no soprano. Get with the altos." Lynn Fawcett, a fifth year Slytherin, moved into the alto grouping.

"That was very good! Now we go down," the Hat declared. They started on middle C again, sliding up then down the scale. They dropped a note to B and continued. The girls and younger boys began to fall silent; the octave was too low for them. Again and again they went through the exercise, dropping the starting note each time.

The Hat kept dropping lower and lower, trying to find the boys' limit. A number of boys were still singing, especially Peter von Erickson, who was the most audible with his powerful voice.

"Superb!" the Hat crowed. "I thought I was going to be weeks whipping you all into some sort of decent group, but most of you seem to know what part you sing already. Delightful!"

The Hat quivered in apparent glee. "I think we're all going to have a lot of fun for the rest of the year. I look forward to our next meeting. I'll see you all next week!"

The choir dispersed, but the first year Slytherins remained behind. The Hat remained animated.

"I must say, Bulstrode, this is an entirely decent amount of fun. When I first thought of the idea, I wasn't at all sure it would happen. Oh," it said dismissively, "I knew you would do your part; Slytherins always keep their word. What I didn't expect was the turnout we had tonight and the level of skill those students have. I had an inkling, from what I've seen in their heads, but even I was stunned."

"You're quite welcome. You did your part; we did ours. Our bargain is concluded," Millie said.

"Quite right. But I sense the Headmaster approaching, so I shall take my leave of you. You'd best get back to your dormitory. Good night!" And the Hat went still.

"Good evening!" Professor Dumbledore called out as he entered the Great Hall. His merry eyes were twinkling, and he was smiling. "Did you enjoy your choir meeting, children?"

"Yes, sir," they said more or less together.

"Good. I'm glad your petition was so successful. It's not often that we see such initiative amongst the students. I hope you'll all stick to it. Music is such a wonderful thing. I'm proud of you for organizing yourselves like this."

"Thank you, sir," Millie said, taking the credit that was her due, even if the Headmaster didn't know it.

"It's getting late," he noted. "It's nearly past my bedtime. I shall see you all at breakfast."

"Good night, sir," they chorused.

to be continued...