The next day at breakfast Harry was quietly bemoaning the fact that he'd taken three extra classes instead of two and how the extra homework would probably kill his social life while Ginny just rolled her eyes and told him she was sure he'd manage when Ron's voice broke through his sulking.
"Hermione," he was saying. "They've messed up your timetable. Look – they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time. Look, see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock Muggle Studies. And then nine o'clock Arithmancy! How the bloody hell do you think you'll manage that?"
"With a Time-Turner, of course," Harry piped up. "I got her one for…Christmas last year, maybe? I definitely got her one at some point. Besides, I have to use one to get to both Muggle Studies and Divination as it apparently never occurred to anyone that some people might want to take both."
"Harry!" Hermione hissed. "We're not supposed to tell people about that!"
"But I already explained all about them when I got you yours," Harry pointed out. "I am warning you now, though. If you don't throw a few extra hours in there to sleep and start going crazy and biting everyone's head off, I will be holding an intervention."
"Are you going to do that?" Hermione demanded.
"Well, no," Harry admitted. "But I have one extra class. You have, like, fifty."
"I do not!" Hermione huffed.
"How many classes are you taking?" Neville asked curiously.
Hermione just crossed her arms and glared at everyone.
"Besides," Harry continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "while we all think time travel is really cool, who here would like to use it for the sole purpose of doing more schoolwork?"
Slowly, Percy raised his hand.
"Oh, you so don't count," Harry told him. "Besides, if you were any more responsible, you'd be on faculty."
"Whatever do you mean?" Percy asked him delicately. "Since Professor Black's appointment, I was under the impression that there was no such criterion to teach here."
Harry shrugged. "Got me there."
"Divination first, do you think?" Harry asked Hermione, who nodded and the pair followed Ron and Neville from the Great Hall. "My scar says it knows a short-cut and given that we're finally taking a class that will be able to utilize its talents, I suggest we listen."
"Why not?" Ron asked. "It's not like we have any idea how to get there anyway."
----
With Harry's shortcut, the ten minute trip only took seven and all too soon Harry was getting that familiar perfume-induced headache that he really ought to have considered before willingly taking Divination again.
"Welcome," Professor Trelawney said airily as she practically floated into the room. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last." She launched into her spiel about the inner eye and Harry automatically tuned out as he'd already heard some variation of this several times before. "You, boy," she stopped suddenly, pointing at Neville. "Is your grandmother well?"
Neville looked at her strangely. "She was yesterday," he replied. "But at her age, who knows what various ailments may befall her?"
Trelawney nodded approvingly. "That's a good attitude to take, especially considering…Well, anyway we will be covering the basic methods of…"
"Especially considering what?" Neville whispered to Harry. "Is she for real? Does she know something?"
"I have no idea," Harry whispered back. "Maybe she'll catch a cold or break her ankle or something. Not like that's a big deal in the wizarding world."
"By the way, dear," Trelawney looked over at Parvati. "Beware a red-haired man. Are you even listening young man?" she asked, suddenly whirling to face Harry.
"Not really," Harry admitted. "But then, I'm sadly bereft of the Inner Eye. My scar's the one with all the talent and its paying plenty of attention. In fact, it said that there's going to be a Yule Ball next year and neither Parvati nor her sister should go with Ron because if they do he'll completely ignore them in favor of sulking because he accidentally insulted his crush in the process of asking her to go with him at the last minute and she was already going with a Quidditch Star."
"Harry!" Ron complained. "You're supposed to be on my side!"
"I am on your side," Harry told him. "Which is why I'll make sure to bug you to ask whoever you happen to like next year to the dance right away."
Their Professor, meanwhile, was eyeing Harry speculatively. "You just might succeed in this class," she said softly. "Being a Seer by proxy is completely unheard of, of course, but there are some…extenuating circumstances in your case and you having a direct, private link to a Seer is more than most people can hope for. Tell me, has your scar made any other predictions that have come true?"
Harry grinned. "My scar said you'd ask that and as such I've prepared a list." With that, he took out a piece of lined paper (to Hermione's consternation he and his Muggleborn clients were still using Muggle school supplies where they felt they would be more practical and the quill and parchment were the first to go, although it did cause some confusion when they were assigned a certain length essay and the professors just had to guess the equivalent in pages) that was covered in both sides in all the things he'd claimed his scar had predicted over the past two years.
"I see," Trelawney said, sounding impressed as she took the paper and placed it on her desk. She continued to outline the class to the students and Harry began playing Hangman with Ron. Since he couldn't possibly do that during History of Magic this year because he had a guardian to support, he figured he may as well get it out of the way now.
Harry looked up as Lavender walked by holding a large silver teapot and placed it on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.
"Incidentally," the Professor said casually. "That thing you are dreading – it will happen on Friday the Sixteenth of October." She quickly explained their task for the day – tea-reading – and concluded with a warning to Neville, "After you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."
"You are so lucky," Ron said enviously. "I hate pink. Do you think if I break my teacup I can get blue, too?"
Neville just shrugged. "Hey Hermione, be my partner?"
"Sure thing, Neville," Hermione agreed absentmindedly as she took a sip of her tea. "This whole thing sounds very sketchy, don't you think? I mean it's all so vague! 'That thing you are dreading will happen Friday the Sixteenth of October'…it doesn't even say what it is that Lavender's supposed to be dreading and unless something happens to go wrong on that day, no one will even remember it!"
"Except you, probably," Ron murmured.
Neville snorted but wisely chose not to invoke Hermione's wrath by saying anything.
"Honestly," Hermione said, irritated. "Harry's 'scar' is usually more detailed than that!"
"To be fair," Harry said, hiding a smile. "My scar usually only shares its predictions about people I know well and Professor Trelawney just met us."
"And chances are that Lavender's going to be dreading quite a bit after a prediction like that," Neville added. "She and Parvati have always been pretty superstitious."
"Hmph!" Hermione frowned as she turned back to her tea.
"I'm done," Ron announced handing over his teacup to Harry.
"Hm," Harry peered into the cup, then quickly consulted his copy of Unfogging the Future. "I see…a circle, which it says represents a cycle beginning or ending and a rat, which I'm going to take to mean Wormtail so…you're going to make peace with the fact that Scabbers turned out to be a parent-betraying coward who attacked everyone last year, that's good. I also see a broom…you're either going to be travelling or play a lot of Quidditch."
"That sounds good to me," Ron said agreeably as he picked up Harry's cup. "My turn. Let's see…there's an acorn-thingy…it says that means 'a windfall, unexpected gold' which probably just means you have another money-making idea soon, wouldn't surprise me. And I also see…a dog? Hey Neville, does this look like a dog to you?"
"Let me see," Neville said reaching over to take the cup and accidentally knocking his own off the table in the process. "Whoops. I was supposed to get a blue one, right?"
"Eh, don't bother," Harry said, lazily waving his wand. The cup instantly repaired itself, though the tea dregs were still on the floor. "You might want to clean that up, though."
"Right," Neville nodded as stood to go find a dustpan. "Definitely a dog," he said as he paused to look at Harry's cup from over Ron's shoulder.
"Let's see…a dog is…a grim?" Hermione said as she checked the book. "Definitely a grim. Looks like you're going to die, Harry," she said casually.
"Your concern is touching, really," he replied sarcastically.
"Did someone say 'grim'?" Trelawney asked eagerly as she hurried towards them.
"Well, I might possibly have one," Harry conceded. "And I know it means 'impending doom', but it could just mean that someone's out to kill me…again. I don't really have anything planned out for this year, but I suppose it's possible someone might try. Or it might just be talking about my godfather."
Trelawney stared at him. "How could the grim represent your godfather? Do you think he is going to die?"
"He better not…" Harry said darkly. "But what I mean is, he's a dog animagus, looks just like that. There's also a key right by it, which means moving and since Sirius is now my official guardian and we spent all summer travelling, I have yet to move in with him."
"I see," Trelawney looked torn between disappointment that it looked like she wasn't going to be able to announce Harry's death after all and relief that she wouldn't be killing off such a promising seer. Even if it was only by proxy.
----
"Okay, you guys go ahead to Transfiguration; Harry and I will meet you there after Muggle Studies," Hermione instructed.
"Why can't you just come with us to Transfiguration and then rewind time to take Muggle Studies?" Ron whined, not happy at the thought of trying to make his way from the North Tower to Transfiguration with only Neville to guide him.
"Because after Muggle Studies I still have Arithmancy and I don't trust Harry to have an entire class period free without managing to inspire chaos," Hermione shot back.
"So wait…we go to Muggle Studies together but then I have to make my way to Transfiguration alone?" Harry asked. "You trust me to do that?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I admit, the plan isn't perfect, but I'm sure you'll manage. Now let's GO!"
With that, the pair wet off down the hall. Once they reached the Muggle Studies classroom, they each took out their Time Turners and took themselves back to nine o'clock.
When they entered the classroom there were only five other students there: Terry Boot and Michael Corner from Ravenclaw, Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan of Hufflepuff, and…oddly enough, Theodore Nott.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked in surprise as he sat in front of the sole Slytherin.
"Taking the class," came the terse reply.
"Can Slytherins do that?" Harry was incredulous.
"Only since Dumbledore became headmaster," Theodore said dryly.
Harry scratched his head in confusion. "But…why would you even want to take it? Isn't your father a Death Eater?"
Theodore glared at him. For some reason, he had never really liked Harry and had always acted like he was bothering him. Which he usually was. But still. "If my father were a Death Eater he'd be in Azkaban. As he is not, we can only conclude that he is not. He's the one who encourage me to take this class, in fact. He had a…misunderstanding with a Muggle once and the girl shot him twice."
"Guns aren't legal in Britain," Hermione interjected.
"He was in Las Vegas," Theodore explained.
"Ah, Las Vegas," Harry said wistfully. "I've never been there, but I've heard some nice things."
"My father wants to make sure that I don't get killed because I know nothing about Muggles," Theodore concluded. "Also, he says the way people speak about them as if they are the sort of mythical creatures you'd find in the Quibbler to be embarrassing."
"That's quite a progressive attitude to take for a Pureblood Supremacist," Harry said admiringly.
"Who said we're Pureblood Supremacists?" Theodore challenged.
"In my experience, most Pureblood families remain so as they either know nothing or hate everything about Muggle," Harry answered.
"What about the Weasleys?" Hermione asked innocently.
Harry glanced over at her. "Have you heard about their squib second-cousin they like to pretend doesn't exist?"
Hermione shook her head.
"I mean, they claim it's just because he's nasty and resentful of their magic, but it's really a problem perpetuated by society: imagine, not too long ago Pureblood families imprisoned if not outright killed their squib children. Even those that weren't killed were often abandoned and some had their memories erased. Those that managed to escape that fate still weren't able to go to Hogwarts and often didn't receive a Muggle education and so when they became adults they didn't know how to become a member of the Muggle World and didn't fit in here either. Why do you think Filch is so bitter?" Harry asked rhetorically. "It's up to our generation to change things, though, and chances are at least one of the seven Weasley's will marry a non-Pureblood."
Hermione stared at him the way she always did when he started getting serious. Fortunately, their professor chose that moment to enter the classroom, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt that said 'Cambridge' on it. Harry vaguely recognized her as Charity Burbage, a woman whose picture had been in the obituary edition of the Daily Prophet following the second Battle of Hogwarts.
"Welcome, class," she beamed at that. "My name is Professor Burbage and I am pleased that we have representatives from all four houses this year. Before we start, I'm going to need to gauge how much you already know about the Muggle world. For instance, raise your hand if you know what electricity is?"
Aside from Harry and Hermione, only Theodore Nott raised his hand. Hm, maybe he was serious about his dad wanting him to have a passing knowledge of Muggles. Interesting.
----
"How was Muggle Studies?" Neville asked as Harry flew into the Transfiguration classroom. "And don't worry, you're not late."
"Good," Harry sighed, relieved. "And it was interesting. I actually learned something!"
Neville raised his eyebrow skeptically.
"Well, not much," Harry admitted. "But considering I didn't think I'd learn anything, it was quite an accomplishment."
Hermione chose that moment to slip into the classroom and look around frantically to see if she was late.
"How was…" Ron paused, trying to remember what else she had taken already that morning. "Arithmancy?"
"It was great," Hermione said, eyes glowing. "I'm going to have to put some real work in, but I think I'll learn a lot. And Muggle Studies was fascinating; Professor Burbage really knows what she's talking about."
"Attention class," McGonagall stood up and began a lecture on Animagi. The class listened with rapt interest while Harry doodled on Ron's textbook as he already felt he knew quite enough on the subject, being an Animagus himself. He only looked up once he heard the sound of applause and was just in time to see a tabby cat turn back into their Professor.
McGonagall smiled at the applause but then her eyes narrowed. "That's strange…"
"What's strange, Professor?" Hermione asked.
"I could have sworn you just came from Divination," she responded.
"We did," Ron piped up.
"Professor Trelawney usually predicts the death of one of her students and people usually take that rather seriously," McGonagall explained.
"She tried to predict Harry's death," Seamus volunteered. "But then they decided that the dog was probably Harry's godfather and moved on."
"Yeah," Dean chimed in. "She said that since Harry's psychic scar was dependent on Harry for survival, it would probably be able to take care of him."
McGonagall closed her eyes at the words 'psychic scar' and looked very much like Hermione did when they were being stupid and she was getting a headache. Finally, she said, "I'm glad to hear that none of you will be worrying about dying at any moment. Now, your assignment for today is to turn these rabbits," she gestured to her desk which had a large cage full of white rabbits, "into silk hats. Points will, of course, be subtracted if the hats have fur, whiskers, or moves around and your instructions are on the board."
After everyone had grabbed a rabbit and started attempting the transformation, McGonagall started walking around the classroom and observing everyone's progress. When she got to Harry's group, she frowned. Hermione had already managed to transfigure her rabbit perfectly, of course, and Ron and Neville were in the process of attempting to transfigure theirs, but Harry's was still a rabbit, though it was dark grey.
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall frowned. "You usually have yours done long before now. Are you having problems?"
Harry shook his head. "Not really; I'm just attempting to do this without a wand. Obviously, it's a work in progress."
The Professor's frown deepened. "May I ask why you're attempting to do this without your wand?"
"Because I already did it normally. See?" With that, he waved his wand and his nearly-black rabbit turned into a black hat. He waved it again and the hat turned back into a white rabbit. "Of course, now I have to start all over…" Harry lamented.
McGonagall just stared at him, shocked. "Did you just manage a silent transfiguration?"
Whoops. "…Yes?"
McGonagall looked a little teary-eyed and was probably caught up in memories of his father the transfiguration prodigy. "Carry on, Mr. Potter, carry on."
"So…since you're done, do you want to help me?" Ron asked hopefully.
Harry looked incredulously at him. "Done? I've got even less done than you! Ask Hermione."
With that, Harry went back to work turning his rabbit black.
----
After lunch was Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.
"You know," Draco said casually as they all opened their books to page 54, which was the start of the section on Hippogriffs. "If I hadn't done my own school supply shopping, I might never have known how to open these. Think how embarrassing it would have been to have had to tie a belt around the book because I didn't know we had to stroke it."
"But Draco," Harry retorted. "I paid Dobby do my shopping and I still know how to do it."
"Don't you have a psychic scar?" Draco asked. "I sort of think that's cheating."
"Meh," Harry shrugged.
Once Hagrid was done explaining about Hippogriffs, he asked for a volunteer. As expected, no one wanted to get near them until they were sure it was safe. It wasn't like they thought that Hagrid would purposely endanger them or anything, but what was considered 'safe' by a half-giant like Hagrid was a bit different from what was considered 'safe' for a bunch of thirteen-year-olds.
Naturally, then, the burden of volunteering fell on Harry. "I'll do it," he called cheerfully.
"Good man, Harry!" beamed Hagrid. "Right then – let's see how you get on with Buckbeak." With that he untied one of the chains and pulled Witherwings – Buckbeak now – out into the paddock.
Harry walked confidently towards the Hippogriff and bowed deeply, making sure not to blink as he did so. When he looked up, he saw Buckbeak bow just as deeply. It looked like Hagrid was right about confidence paying off when dealing with Hippogriffs. He slowly approached Buckbeak and started to stroke its beak.
"Well done, Harry!" cried an ecstatic Hagrid over the class' applause. "Righ' then, Harry. I reckon he migh' let y eh ride him!"
Harry shrugged. "Sweet." He listened carefully to Hagrid's advice about mounting a Hippogriff and before he knew it he was flying around the Hogwarts grounds. It wasn't nearly as bad as he remembered, but broomsticks were still infinitely more comfortable. Especially the Firebolt 2000 he'd just gotten a few weeks before getting thrown into the past…
As Harry landed, he saw a bright flash and looked over to see Colin Creevey standing there with a camera. He got off of Buckbeak and went over to see what the second year wanted.
"I'm on my way to Herbology," Colin explained. "Do you think the Prophet would want this as a 'human interest' piece?"
Harry considered. "Probably. Especially considering this is Hagrid's first class after his record was expunged."
"Great," Colin beamed. "Expect it in the Prophet sometime next week. Bye Harry!"
"Later Colin," Harry waved back as he returned his attention to his class.
Emboldened by Harry's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock.
Harry quickly headed over to Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had claimed Buckbeak. "Draco, if you ruin Hagrid's first class for him by insulting Buckbeak when he warned us repeatedly not to do that then I will officially start a rumor that your mother's not really a Black as your grandmother was cheating on your grandfather with Abraxas Malfoy and thus your parents are half-siblings."
Draco glowered at him and opened his mouth to protest.
"Don't think I won't," Harry warned.
"Fine," Draco glared as he stormed off to join Pansy and Millicent, Crabbe and Goyle at his heels.
So he may have pissed Draco off, but at least the rest of Hagrid's class passed peacefully and non-violently.