"Ah," Vinson said, a pleased smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His tone carried a hint of pride as he continued talking, "Harry is a good kid. Before he started school, I taught him a few simple spells, and he remembered every one of them. And you know what? The very first time he cast the Wand-Lighting Charm…"
As Vinson rambled fondly, practically glowing with satisfaction, Professors Flitwick and Sprout exchanged a subtle but meaningful look. It seemed to them that Vinson's relationship with Harry was far closer than they had initially assumed—almost as if he were speaking about his own child rather than a student he had tutored for a short while.
Snape, sitting not far away, clearly noticed Vinson's tone as well. His expression darkened further, his displeasure toward Vinson becoming even more obvious. The narrowing of his eyes suggested that he already had opinions about Vinson—and this new detail only worsened them.
…
Meanwhile, the students seated at the house tables had already finished the main course. The dishes before Harry transformed smoothly into colorful desserts, and the Gryffindor students beside him began chatting casually about their families.
Seamus happily shared how his father was a Muggle. Neville explained that he lived with his strict but caring grandmother. Hermione, ever eager to contribute, mentioned that both her parents were dentists.
But no one asked Harry about his family.
It wasn't out of rudeness—quite the opposite. Everyone knew Harry's parents had been killed by Lord Voldemort. Bringing it up so soon, on the very first night of school, would only risk making Harry feel uncomfortable or sad.
Harry didn't mind. If anything, he was grateful not to be questioned. His attention drifted toward the staff table, specifically toward Vinson. After a moment, he shifted his gaze back to Percy Weasley, who was sitting across from him.
"Prefect Weasley," Harry said, hesitating slightly before continuing, "what exactly is Care of Magical Creatures about?"
Percy immediately straightened his back, putting down the syrup-covered pancake he had been eating. His expression lit up with pride, and he corrected gently, "Just call me Percy, Harry."
"Alright—Prefect Percy," Harry said, trying to adjust.
Percy looked satisfied with the compromise. His smile broadened, and he adopted a tone that suggested he was about to deliver a formal lecture. "What would you like to know?"
"As I said… what is Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry repeated.
Percy cleared his throat and launched into his explanation. "Care of Magical Creatures is an elective course students can choose starting in their third year. In this class, you learn all about magical creatures—their habits, how to feed them, their behavior, and how to interact with them safely and responsibly."
"Only third years can take it?" Harry asked, disappointment flickering on his face. "So I can't enroll this year?"
"That's right." Percy nodded wisely. "It's likely the professors think first-years are too young. Many magical creatures are dangerous to some extent, and younger students might not even be able to hold their wands properly under stress."
"That makes sense," Hermione added. "There weren't any magical creature textbooks on our book list, either. Are you interested in magical creatures, Harry?"
"Maybe," Harry said, though his tone was distant. His eyes drifted again toward Vinson before he caught himself.
Following Harry's gaze, Percy also glanced toward the head table. "Speaking of professors," he mused, "this year is quite unusual. They changed two teachers at once. Everyone expected a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, of course, but Care of Magical Creatures as well—I always thought Professor Kettleburn would teach for at least two more years."
Harry looked over at Quirrell just as Percy mentioned him. The moment his eyes fell on the man's purple turban, a sharp pain shot through Harry's forehead. He winced and instinctively raised a hand to his scar.
"What's wrong?" Percy asked in alarm.
"It's nothing," Harry replied quickly. He took a deep breath and forced his face to relax. "Just a headache."
Reaching into his robe pocket, Harry retrieved a small enchanted pouch, rummaged inside it with practiced familiarity, and pulled out a tiny bottle filled with a pale blue potion. He uncorked it and drank the contents in a single swallow.
Percy blinked. "What was that?"
"Medicine for headaches," Harry said, slipping the bottle back into the pouch. He tried his best to sound casual. "I get them sometimes."
Percy nodded, apparently assuming it was some kind of Muggle remedy and not thinking too deeply about it.
In truth, the potion was a sedative.
Before Harry left for Hogwarts, Vinson had gifted him the small pouch—one enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm. Inside were a variety of potions: sedatives, blood-replenishing potions, burn paste, Essence of Murtlap, and several others for emergencies. It was essentially a portable medical kit.
There was even a bottle of beauty potion.
Harry had no idea what he was supposed to do with that and couldn't understand why Vinson had included it. Charm his female classmates, perhaps? The thought made him blush slightly.
…
Although Harry didn't know why looking at the professor in the purple turban triggered his headache, the pain faded quickly after the sedative, and he decided not to dwell on it. He even tried glancing at Quirrell again, but nothing happened.
Maybe he had just been nervous, Harry reasoned.
…
When the feast finally concluded, Dumbledore rose to deliver the customary start-of-term announcements. Harry paid close attention at first—warnings about the Forbidden Forest made sense, as did the reminder not to cast spells in the corridors.
But then Dumbledore declared, "Those who do not wish to suffer a most painful death should avoid the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor."
Harry blinked.
It was almost as if the headmaster were inviting students to explore it rather than warning them away. It sounded more like a challenge than a precaution. Harry couldn't imagine how anyone expected students—especially ones like the Weasley twins—to resist investigating something described so dramatically.
When the school song began, Harry braced himself. He already disliked this part—the way everyone sang in completely different melodies was chaotic at best.
But then he noticed Vinson singing as well, wearing an expression of pure exasperation, and Harry found himself smiling despite everything.
When the feast ended, Harry hoped to go over and greet Vinson, but before he could, Percy was already calling for the first-year Gryffindors to line up.
"Everyone, follow me! I'll take you to the Gryffindor common room!"
Harry reluctantly fell into formation. Soon, he understood why Percy insisted on keeping the group together. The castle corridors twisted unpredictably, moving staircases shifted without warning, and hidden panels slid into place, blocking their path. Without Percy's guidance, Harry suspected he might wander the castle for days without finding his way.
After what felt like an eternity of walking, the group finally came to a halt. Harry was just beginning to think they'd reached their destination when something floated into view.
A short, plump figure hovered in the air ahead of them—a middle-aged man wearing an eye-catching bright suit and a small blue top hat. A mischievous, almost wicked smile stretched across his face.
"That's Peeves," Percy whispered, sounding resigned. "A ghost who lives to cause trouble."
Harry examined the figure. Apart from looking a bit uglier than the other ghosts he had seen so far, Peeves didn't seem particularly threatening—at least not at first glance.
"Welcome!" Peeves crooned, his voice echoing down the corridor with a mocking lilt. With a sudden burst of speed, he lunged toward Percy. His movements were so fast Harry barely registered them.
When Peeves appeared again, he was hovering several feet away—holding a small, glittering object he had snatched from Percy's hand.
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