Look!"
"Where is he?"
"I don't see him."
"Wearing the glasses?"
"Did you see his face? Did you see…you know…it?"
Very subtle.
Harry thought.
"His scar?"
The whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People had lined up outside classrooms and stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors. A redheaded boy from Gryffindor was pointing with a grin on his face.
Harry wished they wouldn't, he already found himself missing his cupboard, and just wanted to concentrate on finding his classes. Navigating minds was a difficult task, but the castle was an absolute labyrinth, and if he made a mistake he had to wait for stairs to return. He huffed indignantly.
Harry dodged a vanishing step before turning around. Apparently, the staircase he had chosen went somewhere different on Tuesdays, or depending on its mood. Consistent landmarks were difficult to find because the armor and paintings wouldn't stay still.
He was forced to sidestep Mrs. Norris, whom he was almost certain was trying to purposefully trip him, sending him tumbling down a floor or plummeting to the ground way below.
Who designed this castle?
But there was magic, and he loved it. He loved tracking the planets and constellations at midnight every Wednesday atop the astronomy tower. He was told the locations of planets could affect potions and ambient magic. He wasn't sure what it meant yet, but knew that it was important. He was less enthused about taking care of plants in Herbology, despite Professor Sprout's various assurances regarding the twisting potted plants and fungi.
He eyed one with thick, spiraling vines. It writhed slowly in place, and he was almost certain that it eyed him back.
On the other hand, he absolutely loathed the History of Magic teacher. If Peeves' disturbances weren't enough to convince him to learn how to banish ghosts and poltergeists, then Professor Binns' teaching did the trick.
Some teachers were excited to see him, like Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. He fell off his pile of books the first time he called Harry's name for the register. Flitwick had later confided that his mother was quite the talent with charms, and Harry resolved to come by again to find out more about his mother.
He was astounded when Professor McGonagall changed her desk into a pig… but to be honest, he didn't think it was that useful. How often would he need pork that desperately? Harry had already practiced their first transfiguration, so completed it flawlessly, much to Hermione's chagrin. The bushy-haired girl huffed and looked down at her pointy, matte-grey match. It was most certainly still made of wood, and not particularly sharp. Hermione tended to lecture as much as possible, and even those who sat far away from her were not particularly safe. It annoyed Harry to no end.
The class everyone had been most looking forward to, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Unfortunately, Quirrell's lessons didn't live up to the expectations. He once felt a pinch behind his eyes during the class and nearly fell out of his seat, much to Malfoy's delight. Harry looked around for who could have poked at him, but saw no one. He had to assure himself that Legilimency was rare, and he doubted the stammering Quirrell had the talent. That aside, Harry was always worried he would smell like garlic the rest of the day after being in that class and he occasionally felt his scar give a painful throb.
He had been excited for potions, but it seemed that Professor Snape had taken an immediate disliking towards him; although, he couldn't imagine what he might have done wrong. Professor Snape, like Professor Flitwick, started the class by taking a register. Unlike the diminutive Professor however, he paused at Harry's name only to make a harsh comment or two.
Professor Snape finished calling their names and looked up at the class. His eyes were dark. He asked Harry a series of questions which he had no answer for. He resolved to look up the answers later though. He would master potions.
Harry met the giant Hagrid once or twice in the Halls and always stopped to say hello. He always made sure to smile politely at the large man during meal times, even while the other students gossiped about the latest break-in to Gringotts.
Harry decided that his favorite room was the library. It was massive. On his first visit he had stopped to ask the librarian everything he could think of, so he would know where to go. She glared at him and made sure he knew not to use magic near the books, but was far politer once she believed he was sufficiently cowed. Harry liked to believe that she had favored him for asking about her library, but he might have just been reading into things.
The biggest surprise was Daphne Greengrass. She would occasionally walk with him in the halls with her friend Tracey Davis, the freckled girl from the boat. She would also opt to join him in the library on occasion, and sit with him while he studied. When he found an empty room to practice his spells in, she made sure to stop by frequently. She occasionally asked for small pointers regarding the casting of spells but soon learned he was useless for the theory, even though he was top of the class in terms of casting. It was odd that she would meet with him. He found himself thinking about it a lot.
"Your wand movement and incantation are perfect for the spell." He was trying to walk her through the needle transfiguration.
"Then why isn't it working?" She gave him a glare before turning back to her second match stick. The first one was a little too… singed, to work with. Enough so that they had decided to just start again.
He felt her frustration alongside a tide of more tangled emotions.
[A building…a girl who looked like Daphne but had shorter and slightly darker hair... a tawny owl]
She's homesick.
He realized..
Harry had felt that quite a bit from students around the castle, and found it a strange concept. Sure, he sometimes missed his cupboard, but not the building. Not the people who lived there, certainly.