Harry's mind was still occupied with Dumbledore's warnings.
He could understand banning some prank toys, but what could be so off-limits about a corridor?
"Why do you think Professor Dumbledore announced so many precautions?"
"Oh, that's obvious," Ron replied without a second thought. "Fred and George must have done something to piss Filch off again. They're always complaining about that when they come home."
The twins emerged from some corner, popping up behind Ron.
"Oh, little Ronnie, let us hear——"
"Are you talking behind our backs?"
"Gack!" Ron's eyes bulged as a piece of chicken got stuck in his throat.
He stretched out his neck, finally managed to swallow the meat, and turned angrily to glare at the grinning twins.
Harry looked at them curiously.
"So, were all those bans your doing?"
They both pointed at Ron.
"I knew it, you must have said something behind our backs!"
Ron choked back a retort, muttering under his breath as he turned away from their gaze and quietly gnawed on his chicken leg.
Fred and George weren't actually angry.
After ribbing Ron a bit, they gathered around Harry.
They also looked curiously at Harry's forehead.
The scar was partially hidden by his hair, so after a couple of glances, they looked away.
"Actually, it's not all our fault," George said with a grin.
Fred took over the complaint.
"We didn't even do anything that bad. Filch is just way too sensitive."
Harry chuckled.
"Putting a ban on the fourth-floor corridor isn't that bad?"
George and Fred looked shocked and quickly denied it.
"Oh, little Harry, how could you slander us like that? Closing the fourth-floor corridor wasn't our doing."
Fred agreed.
"If we did something like that, we'd definitely get expelled! Mum would be furious, she'd break our legs!"
Ron swallowed the chicken in his mouth and muttered.
"You actually said that, I'm telling Mum."
The twins said in unison, "Hey!"
They lunged at Ron, pretending to grab his chicken leg.
Ron was horrified, jumped back to put some distance between them, and watched them warily.
The twins were just teasing him, though, and turned back to sling their arms around Harry's shoulders.
George rubbed his chin.
"There's never been any issue with the fourth-floor corridor before, but it's closed off this year——"
Fred winked mysteriously.
"We're betting there's some amazing treasure hidden there! Little Harry, want to go on a treasure hunt with us?"
Harry had gotten the information he wanted and smiled, politely declining.
Since the fourth-floor corridor had never been an issue, that meant the problem started this year.
And this year, there was only one truly important event at Hogwarts.
The Boy Who Lived was starting school.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor didn't count; that position changed every year, so it wasn't anything new.
Harry pondered to himself: It seems like this has something to do with me. I'll have to find a time to check it out.
After the meal, the prefects from each house led the first-years back to their respective common rooms.
The Gryffindor witches and wizards were housed five to a room, with five curtained beds inside.
Harry spotted his trunk piled with the others as soon as he entered.
He pulled his own trunk out and started unpacking.
The four other boys in his dormitory filed in one by one, and Ron happily greeted Harry.
Harry glanced at the other three and recognized them.
He had paid close attention during Professor McGonagall's roll call for the Sorting, and if he remembered correctly, their names were Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas.
The boys bonded quickly.
After a bit of casual chatting, they became familiar with each other, but after the journey from the platform to the Black Lake, then the boat ride into Hogwarts, they were all tired.
Soon, the dormitory fell into silence.
Gryffindor's first class was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall.
Harry woke up early.
Apart from Ron, who was still fast asleep, the others in the dormitory stirred groggily when they heard Harry moving around.
"Harry, you're up so early," Dean mumbled, yawning. "What time is it?"
Harry checked his watch.
"It's only seven. Class isn't until nine, so I'm going to take a walk around the castle."
"Oh," Dean murmured, flopping back onto his pillow and falling back asleep. "Then I'll sleep a little longer."
Seamus rubbed his eyes sleepily and asked Neville, "If we sleep until eight, will there still be breakfast?"
Neville looked bewildered.
"There is, probably."
They glanced at each other and fell back asleep.
Harry slipped out past the Fat Lady's portrait and wandered around with a pocket full of miniature cameras.
This corridor was quite long, so he placed one camera here.
This corner was pretty hidden, so he placed another camera there.
This, Harry paused by the corridor wall, looking out the window at the vast forest bordering the Black Lake.
The Forbidden Forest.
Harry glanced at the miniature cameras he had brought and considered: Would magical creatures just snatch these if he put them in the forest?
Just then, a low voice came from behind him.
"Mr. Potter."
Harry turned with a smile, and when he met Snape's sullen gaze, his grin grew even brighter.
"Good morning, Professor."
Snape looked at the Potter brat's face, and his own expression grew even more livid.
He averted his gaze, looking past Harry towards the Forbidden Forest outside the window, and spoke slowly, enunciating each word.
"I sincerely hope that Mr. Potter is not using his brain, which is stuffed with flobberworms, to contemplate offering himself as a meal to the creatures of the Forbidden Forest."
Harry blinked innocently and replied sincerely.
"Of course not, Professor."
Harry smiled, his eyes narrowing slightly so his expression was hard to read.
Using his smile as a cover, he subtly studied Snape's face.
"I haven't lived long enough yet."
Snape glared at him coldly and snorted.
"Let's hope so."
He paused.
"And, Mr. Potter, since you have failed to address me by my surname, it will be considered disrespect to a professor. Gryffindor will lose 2 points."
With that, he swept his robes around him and strode off towards the Great Hall.
Harry stood there dumbfounded, staring at the back of the billowing black robes.
Are you crazy? I haven't even had one class yet, and you're already taking points? Is this targeted? Do I have a grudge with him or something?
Harry stood rooted to the spot, staring at the retreating figure in the black robes.
He really wanted to blow something up.
No, no, no.
Harry quickly shook his head, suppressing those thoughts, and repeatedly told himself: He was my mother's friend. Maybe I just got unlucky and caught him in a bad mood.
Don't be so quick to blow things up. Observe him a bit longer.
If he really is targeting me, it won't be too late to do something about it later.
---
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