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“You dropped this.”
Harry jumps at the voice, and turns around sharply. His heart is pounding. He can feel the red in his cheeks, and the beginnings of an awkward laugh starts to creep out.
The voice belongs to a girl — a Slytherin girl — and that alone makes the embarrassment vanish. His paranoia feels justified now.
That, and the fact that he doesn’t particularly care if a Slytherin makes fun of him for nearly dying on the spot over nothing.
She smiles at him, and Harry scowls. She has brown hair, braided back, and pierced ears. Nondescript. Still, he thinks he would have recognized her. He doesn’t.
“I have to get to class,” the girl interrupts his thoughts. He’s been silent for about a minute. She pushes the book to him and he instinctively catches it before he falls.
When she turns around, still smiling, he watches her dodge bodies through the crowded hallway and turn the corner at the edge.
He glances down at the book he’s now holding.
Harry’s used to constant paranoia, in all honesty. He thinks it’s been conditioned into him. Either from the moment Voldemort entered his life as an infant and preemptively ruined it, or from when he was put with his aunt and uncle and got used to looking over his shoulder at every point in the day. The annual reunions with Voldemort and the Triwizard Tournament last year have only reinforced his paranoia.
Still. When he stares down the hallway, now emptied as students sit in class, he can’t help but feel like the mad conspiracy theorist Ron sometimes accuses him of being.
He’s starting to suspect that Umbridge isn’t the only ministry spy around.
“That’s ridiculous,” Hermione says instinctively.
They’re sitting in the Great Hall now, two days later, eating breakfast. Hermione leaning across the table and Ron, next to him, doing the same. Ron’s reaching for food, but the point is that they’re huddled within their own group.
A moment passes before Hermione hums. “Well, maybe not completely ridiculous.”
Ron makes a questioning noise, still eating.
Hermione leans in closer, and looks Harry in the eye. “I’ve noticed a few students I’ve never noticed before. I mean, Hogwarts is big, but have you two ever seen that one Gryffindor student? The blond one?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” says Harry. There were more than a few blond Gryffindors, probably.
“The one who accidentally set Fred and George on fire last week, who else?” Hermione scoffs.
Ron freezes. Then swallows.
Then bursts out laughing.
“Wait, wait—” He wheezes. “—when did this happen? Seriously, when? How? Oh, Merlin, do you think Creevey took pictures?”
Hermione groans. “Later, Ron, you can ask him later.”
“Who else have you noticed, Hermione?” Harry interjects before Ron can continue. He’s laughing, but quieter now.
Hermione turns around to look at the tables behind them.
“There, at the Ravenclaw table. See Luna? The boy behind her. He and Luna only just became friends, I think, but they’ve been inseparable. Where was he before this year? I have no idea! I swear I’ve never seen him!” She turns back, sharply. Harry can tell she’s frustrated.
“Hermione,” Ron laughs. His fork shakes in his grip. He takes a deep, but shaky, breath, trying to calm down enough to talk. “You seriously can’t expect to know every student here, do you? It’s not like you’re Dumbledore, and I bet even he doesn’t know each and every one of them!”
Hermione concedes, sighs, and mutters that she still has a weird feeling about them. Ron continues to comfort her in his own weird, vaguely accusatory way.
Meanwhile, Harry takes the chance to look at the boy Hermione pointed out. He’s a Hufflepuff, with dark hair, and he’s holding Luna’s bag as she gets up from her seat at the table. The two are leaving early, evidently, and Harry is debating following them before he sees the Hufflepuff turn around.
Some of the Ravenclaw’s are laughing, and murmuring about Loony Lovegood as they usually do. It’s something everybody is used to. Luna isn’t taken seriously by any house, and some of the Purebloods in Ravenclaw don’t like their house not being taken seriously by others.
And, if Harry is being honest, Luna is an easy target for bullies. Any hint of being different draws their attention, and once you have their attention, there’s no easy way of getting out of it. Harry would know.
But the Huffepuff stares them down, wearing a look of disdain that is so uncharacteristically seen on a Hufflepuff that Harry immediately feels uncomfortable.
Judging by the sudden silence from that side of the table, his glaring worked. The Hufflepuff turns around and smiles at Luna, and the two leave The Great Hall.
Not many people noticed.
But Harry did.
(If he decides not to follow them, it’s only because he wants to finish his food first. Definitely not anything else. Certainly not because he’s happy for Luna, and grateful for her newfound friend.)
“Harry, you said she gave you a book?” Hermione talks, and Harry blinks back at her. He nods to confirm.
She waits before gesturing towards his bag. “Can I see it?”
Fishing the book out, Harry eagerly hands it to her.
“My Magical Take on Military Strategy, Volume II: Identifying Threats Within and Outside the Battlefield.” She reads aloud. “Huh. I’m interested in why she would give a book like this to you. Especially if our theory is right...”
“Interested in reading it too, right?” He grins.
Hermione playfully tries to smack him with the book. As expected, he dodges, laughing. “You have to do your own reading, you know!”
“My own reading? When I’ve got you? That doesn’t add up.”
“Oh, shush.”
Hermione, Ron, and him joke and laugh while finishing their food, and he eventually convinces Hermione to read the book and then give it back to him, all while glancing towards the Slytherin girl who gave it to him in question.
She doesn’t meet his glance until they’re about to leave. When she does, she smiles, and Harry very carefully avoids looking in her direction afterwards.
The Hogwarts hallways are especially cold at night, but they seem larger than ever without students filling them up. Harry tries to take comfort in the largeness, as he normally would whenever he’s relishing not being stuck in a small and cramped space, but it just makes him feel all the more alone.
Harry's detention with Umbridge takes place in her office. The door sits in front of him, not any different from the other doors in the hall, but it feels different.
It feels gross. He feels gross. He’s angry and scared and the only positive feeling he has is the determination to sit in there with as much well-behaved spite as he can muster.
At least, he thinks as he knocks on the door, I’ll finish faster the sooner I go in.
“Come in,” her voice calls.
He does, and tries not to physically cringe at the decor. And the cats. Merlin, the cats.
“Good evening, Mr. Potter. Sit.” She gestures to the desk in front of her own.
Privately, Harry thinks it’s not a good evening. It’s a terrible evening, at best, and it gets even worse when he starts writing with the special Quill she forces him to use.
His hand hurts. At first it’s fine. Probably weird cramps, but nothing too worrisome.
His hand continues to hurt. It starts to burn, and scratch.
I must not tell lies, is written deep into his own hand, and it only gets deeper the more he writes. He wants to scream. Demand to get another teacher. But it won’t do anything, he knows. He can practically see Umbridge’s vindictive smile as he hisses through his teeth.
He continues to write.
The door bursts open.
“Lady? Pink crazy lady, are you — You are here!” A loud, loud voice yells, and Harry chokes.
He turns around to see a blond boy in Gryffindor robes, grinning wildly. His tie is crooked and his robe is practically half off, but Harry decides right away that he likes him.
“I’ve been looking all over the castle for you, I swear! The dungeons, the towers, I was about to go find Dumbledore’s office! But, well, Hagrid asked me if I checked your office, and then I thought, hey, she has an office? And I realized I didn’t check there at all! So then I asked where your office even was, but Hagrid didn’t really know either, so then I went to glasses lady’s office to try and ask her, but I didn’t even know where her office was either! I asked some guy where her office was, and he was really offended that I didn’t know, so then I told him I didn’t want his help anyway—”
Harry watches the blond rant with a morbid fascination. Umbridge, he notices, seems too stunned to comment. It’s amazing. It’s like watching a train coming at you full speed, and being too confused by it coming towards you to even move.
“—And that’s how I got here, believe it! But seriously, pink crazy lady, I really need your help! No one knows how to get the fire to stop, like, existing!”
“Excuse me?” Umbridge asks, and Harry admits this once that he can relate.
The blond groans. “We don’t have time for this! There’s a fire in the history classroom and the ghost didn’t even notice and there’s a girl and a guy there stuck in the classroom, like you needed to be there yesterday, lady!”
Somehow, somehow, he shuffles her out of the office and she starts half-running to the History of Magic classroom, her little pink heels tapping all the way across the hall.
“Um,” Harry eloquently says in the silence that lingers in the office afterwards.
The blond laughs. “Hey, Harry! Got her pretty good, didn’t I?”
Harry takes a moment to process the meaning behind the words. “Wait, so there’s no fire in Binns’s classroom?”
“Nope! My name’s Naruto, by the way!” His grin doesn’t fall away, not even once, but it continues to feel natural. Natural and genuine. Harry is appreciative, because it makes him feel just a bit more comfortable.
“Hey, Naruto. I’m Harry.” He introduces himself, even though he’s sure Naruto already knows who he is, because who doesn’t. It’s the polite thing to do, and the least he can do for the boy who just got him out of this increasingly painful situation was being polite to him.
“Hey,” Harry blinks. “What are you going to do when she realizes there was no fire?”
Naruto, thankfully, doesn’t freak out over a detail he might have missed. He waves his hand dismissively. “Shikako and Sasuke will tell her there was, and that they took care of it. Or maybe they’ll set a real fire. Who knows?”
Huh.
Harry tries to mentally recall a Shikako and Sasuke, thinks that their names are unique enough that he should be able to remember them if he heard them before, but finds that nothing comes to mind. The more he thinks about it, the less he can recall hearing the name Naruto either.
He stiffens.
Right, of course. One threat being gone doesn’t mean another won’t come. Always be on guard. Constant vigilance, and all that, he thinks bitterly.
Suddenly, Naruto gently picks up Harry’s hand. Harry flinches, badly, and hits the desk against his legs.
“Oh, man, I’m so sorry!” Naruto says, voice still loud, but there’s a quality to his words that feel less abrasive.
“It’s fine,” Harry says, and tries to pull his arm out of Naruto’s grip. Naruto lets go, but his gaze is fixated on Harry’s hand. He’s frowning.
Harry mentally curses as he realizes just what it was Naruto was staring at, and jerkily hides his hand underneath his robe sleeve.
Naruto looks up. “I’m really sorry,” he says. He means it, too, Harry thinks, because his eyes are sincere in a way Harry has only seen on his closest friends.
“Let’s go see a med—er, healer. Healer lady, let’s go see her.” Naruto straightens, and Harry can see very clearly that he isn’t expecting a no.
“Sorry, mate, not important. I would rather go to sleep?” Harry tries for a nonchalant laugh. It comes off more strained that he wanted.
Naruto shakes his head. “Nope, not happening. Healer lady or Shikako, your choice!”
“Shikako?” Harry questions, wondering what that was even supposed to mean, what Shikako would do. Naruto starts walking away and Harry follows, curious.
“Yeah, Shikako. If you’re ever hurt you should go see her, okay? Her or healer lady. But if you want it to be discreet then Shikako, definitely.” Naruto answers, misunderstanding the question Harry was trying to ask, but answering still.
Harry doesn’t reply. He isn’t sure what to say anymore.
“Hey,” Naruto stops. He looks around, confused. “Where even is healer lady?”
Harry guffaws. There’s no way Naruto is a ministry spy, he concludes, because at the very least he would know his way around the castle.
“Come on, I’ll show you. But I don’t need healing.” Seriously, he doesn’t.
“Yes, you do!”
“No, I really don’t think I do.”
Naruto points at Harry’s hand. “Yes you do!”
“Okay, fine.”
Harry is sitting in the library, willingly, when he sees that Hufflepuff boy again.
He’s browsing the aisles near his table, actually, and Harry only noticed him because he had looked around the room in sheer boredom.
Harry watches the Hufflepuff as his browsing leads him closer and closer to where Harry himself is, and finally decides to speak up when the boy is only a few feet away.
He doesn’t know what to say, really, so he settles on the most natural conversation starter he could think of.
“Are you looking for something specific?” He asks.
The Hufflepuff turns his head to look at him. He wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t even shush Harry’s loud tone. Harry isn’t sure what to make of it.
The fact that he’s analyzing the smallest of actions to this extent really makes him feel like a mad conspiracy theorist.
“Sort of,” the boy answers. He nods towards the books. “I’m looking for something for someone else. I’m just not sure what.”
Harry blinks. “That… seems like a problem. Er, my mate Hermione would be able to help you with that, but she’s actually not here for once…”
Harry feels a little dumb for starting a conversation, now, because he realizes he has no where else to take this conversation.
Well, he’ll settle for the classics.
“My name is Harry,” he says. It usually gets a conversation running, one way or another.
The Hufflepuff nods in acknowledgement. He turns around.
“Wait!” Harry panics. “What’s your name?”
“Sasuke Uchiha,” the boy turns around to answer.
Oh. Well, Harry isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the name of one of Naruto’s friends. Hermione will be delighted to find out his name, though. Assuming she didn’t already hound Luna down for an answer.
“Nice to meet you. I, uh, are you friends with a Naruto?” Harry asks.
Sasuke nods. Then, he smiles. “Naruto has a way of getting around. Not surprised you’ve met him.”
Harry laughs. He doesn’t have to know Naruto that well to be able to tell that that’s how he just is, as a person.
He thinks the Weasley’s would probably like him.
Sasuke gives a considerate look towards the books laid out on Harry’s table, and moves to take a book out of his own bag and place it next to them, with a “You might like this,” and a “see you around.”
He walks away and the conversation ends as awkwardly as it began, really. But Harry feels strangely comfortable with that. Relaxed.
He looks down at the book Sasuke gave him and tenses again.
My Magical Take on Military Strategy, Volume IV: Fighting Authority with Words and Subterfuge.
Hermione is on a rampage.
“I’ve had it, really! I know it might not be the smartest move but really, how harmful could it be?” She throws her hands up and moves, stalking down the halls.
“Hermione!” Ron runs to catch up with her. Harry follows.
“Seriously, Harry, I appreciate that you’re being considerate of other people, but you’re being considerate in all of the wrong ways! We need someone to teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts and you’re the best option,” she rants.
Harry tries to match her stride, and fails just a little bit. “There’s better options, you should know that, and I still don’t see how that has anything to do with—with the books!”
“Four times! Four times she’s found a way to give you these books that are all about Defensive magic, and war tactics, and fighting without actually fighting and finding ways to do it secretly!” She abruptly stops to turn around. Harry and Ron stumble.
“If there’s anyone that agrees with me, that might be able to help me convince you, it’s this random girl who we’ve already agreed is not a ministry spy but is something. Something important. And I’m tired of beating around the bush trying to figure out her opinion, when my gut tells me I already know it! So I’m going to get her help.” Hermione takes in a deep breath.
She strides to the door closest to them in the hallway, knocks twice, and opens.
Harry and Ron follow her inside.
The Slytherin girl sits on a desk, and next to her — next to her is Sasuke, on her right side, leaning against another desk, and Naruto sits on the floor on her left.
Oh.
“Shikako?” Harry says, eyes wide.
“That’s me,” she confirms with a smile.
“What? You already knew her?” Ron gaspes, and seems mortally offended.
Harry startles and shakes his head. “No, I just realized. Naruto told me about his two friends, Shikako and Sasuke, when he saved me from Umbridge’s detention. I should have realized when he was taking me to Madam Pomfrey, really, because he described—”
“Why was he taking you to Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione interrupts, a frown settled on her face.
Harry freezes.
Ron gasps a second time.
“Wait. Sit down. It looks like we have a lot to talk about, either way.” Shikako speaks up, gesturing to the space in front of her.
Harry happily complies, and Hermione and Ron have no choice but to follow suit. Shikako and Sasuke move to sit on the ground as well.
“Harry,” Ron prompts.
“Right.” Harry sighs.
He can’t help but feel somewhat weird about Naruto and his friends being a part of this conversation. But Naruto nods at him, encouragingly, and Harry starts and continues on with his story.
It’s not quite as weird now, he finds, because Shikako and Sasuke are quietly listening and Hermione and Ron share the same concern for his well being as they would have had in private. Naruto picks up the story to tell the part where he shows up, and it makes things lighthearted enough for just a little bit that Harry relaxes.
“There’s a scar, because Umbridge used a Blood Quill, and Madam Pomfrey said that she can’t heal away the scar because of that. But it doesn’t hurt, so it’s really not that bad,” Harry shrugs.
“Oh, Harry…” Hermione quickly leans over to pull him into a tight hug. “Of course it’s bad. But I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Tell us these things next time, yeah?” Ron squeezes Harry’s shoulder.
A part of Harry feels incredibly light, right now, and he tries not to grin like a madman.
“Yeah,” he agrees.
Sasuke quietly clears his throat. The three disentangle and Harry meets his gaze, willing himself to not feel embarrassed. “So, why did you come find us?” he asks.
Hermione straightens, lifting her chin up. “Harry is going to start a Defense Against the Dark Arts club, where he’s going to teach. So we’ll actually learn things. Practical things.”
“He’s the bloody best at Defense, five minutes with him will be more helpful than this whole year will be with Umbridge.” Ron proudly proclaims. A part of him looks like he’s daring for Shikako to disagree, glaring at the green on her robe.
Harry coughs and covers his eyes, looking down. He can’t will away the embarrassment this time.
“Good,” Shikako says. Harry can’t help but feel surprised. “It’s the best way to get back at her. And actually helpful, too. So let’s figure out how to make it work.”
He uncovers his face and looks at Shikako’s face, filled with determination and a type of support that tells him that no matter what, she’ll figure it out.
“I have a few ideas,” Hermione smiles. She’s pleased, he can tell.
“Let’s hear them.” Sasuke takes initiative from that point on, and the six huddle together to plan as hours pass through the night.
Harry climbs into bed later that night, content and eager to start the day tomorrow.
There’s a lot of work to be done. But he’s not worried.
“I mean, you could always be more proactive. Maybe kill the people out to get you before they try to kill you?”
Hermione gasps, Ron sputters, and Harry wants to react the same way. Instead, he can’t help but acknowledge that the idea has some merit.
The look of consideration on his face makes Hermione snap.
“Okay, yes, thank you for your time! It’s been a very great year with you, please excuse us, we’ll catch up next year!”
Harry looks back at the grinning Shikako and waves goodbye to her, letting Hermione drag him away towards the Hogwarts Express.
Summer is beginning, and for once Harry can genuinely say that he’s excited for it. He’ll be staying with Sirius, who was able to convince Dumbledore that staying with him was ultimately safer after the Department of Mysteries mess happened.
A mess that Harry had somehow managed to not get caught up in, when Voldemort had planned for him to be there. That felt like a victory in itself; especially after the Triwizard Tournament last year. It makes him nervous for the summer, sure, because nothing spectacularly bad happened this year at all. Even Umbridge, menace that she was, had ended up resigning her position on the Hogwarts staff and her ministry job.
The blackmail speculation Rita Skeeter had written an article on was even more satisfying to read than seeing Umbridge resign only weeks ago. It felt good to be at the opposite end of her pen, so to speak. For once the baseless rumors weren’t about him, for everyone who hated him to laugh at, but for someone he hated so he could laugh at it.
He fully plans on framing that article in his new bedroom.
As Hermione drags him and Ron to the train, Harry spots Sasuke standing away from him, talking to a smiling Luna and Ginny. Luna bursts forth and hugs Sasuke with more eagerness than Harry has ever seen come from her. Harry waves goodbye to Sasuke, who acknowledges it with a nod over Luna’s shoulder.
Privately, he wonders why they don’t just say goodbye at the platform, but then figures that Sasuke is probably going to sit with Shikako and Naruto, and that Luna and him might not have time for goodbye’s later.
Hermione stops at the line to get on the train, and Harry takes this chance to look for Naruto, hoping to say goodbye to him too in some way. When he spots him, it’s only because he heard Hagrid first, who was loudly sobbing right in front of Naruto.
Naruto seems to be crying too, but he’s smiling softly, patting Hagrid’s enormous hand to comfort the giant. He says something, and Hagrid manages to bark out a laugh through the tears. Luckily for Harry, Naruto spots him through the corner of his eye, and he turns to yell and wave goodbye to him. Hagrid joins in, still crying, but happy.
Harry climbs onto the Hogwarts Express with a smile.
“It seems like hiring bodyguards worked out quite well,” Dumbledore hums.
“I’m glad. They’re all good kids.” Shikako turns her head to look at the wizard next to her. His eyes crinkle as they meet hers, and he nods.
“One last lemon drop before you go, dear?”