Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry knew from a young age that the things he can do can be used to his advantage. When it happens the first time, at age four, he thinks about it in his cupboard. Uncle Vernon had raised his plate and Harry had wished so desperately that the plate wouldn’t be there when his hand came crashing down and when he opened his eyes, the plate was gone and standing in front of him was a stunned Uncle Vernon who could only open and close his mouth like a fish.

Harry is six when he realizes it was him who vanished that plate. He had been running from Dudley and his friends, wishing to be somewhere where they couldn’t reach him, and found himself standing on the roof in the blink of an eye. Despite the beating he gets, he realizes that he can use this newfound power.

He starts by testing it, of course. First, it’s by wishing for his cupboard to be unlocked, and when that works, he starts wishing for things to come flying into his hands, like brooms and cleaning supplies and, most often, food. When he masters this at eight, he does something that makes him feel happy. 

Dudley is standing in front of the fireplace, right in front of one of his pictures, and teasing Harry as Harry just tries to clean. So, Harry stands directly in front of Dudley and wishes for the picture behind him to fly into his hand. As it does, it rams into the back of Dudley’s head.

It’s completely worth the beating he gets.

When he’s nine and standing in front of Aunt Petunia while she berates him for burning dinner, he finally stands his ground.

He wishes for the frying pan to fly into his hand and easily brandishes it. Aunt Petunia is shocked into silence. Harry twirls the pan in his hands, grinning almost evilly, and says slowly, “These actually hurt quite a bit. I would know. Would you like to find out just how much, Aunt Petunia?”

Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley quickly become acquainted with Harry’s new power over them. Harry no longer does chores, no longer cooks, no longer starves, and no longer sleeps in a cupboard. His room is the master, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s old room. He moves his aunt and uncle to the smallest bedroom and allows Dudley to remain in his original room, though Harry sends him to the cupboard sometimes if he’s being especially mean or annoying. For the next two years, Harry lives a luxurious life he once dreamed of living. And it’s only because of his own ambition. God forbid anybody else take notice of Harry's bruises or the way he flinches at certain words like boy or freak and — god forbid — magic. Yes, this still happens, but now that he isn’t hearing it everyday or getting hit everyday, he’s getting better. And if he gives the Dursleys a taste of their own medicine, nobody but himself has to know.

OoOo

Harry, making sure that Hagrid isn’t paying attention, quietly slips away to shop on his own. 

He keeps his chin high and his posture straight as he walks and completely ignores anybody who attempts to speak to him. He finds Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions and walks inside, deciding this is a good first stop.

He’s ushered onto a stool and regards the boy next to him carefully and subtly. He holds himself in the same way Harry does, chin raised, back straight, lip curled in disgust at the simplest things. Harry almost likes him, if he’s honest.

“Hello. Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” Harry says, in a bored sort of tone that he hopes conveys how much he doesn’t actually want to speak with this boy. He was content to just observe.

“My father’s next door buying my books and Mother’s up the street looking at wands,” the boy says in his own bored tone that rivals Harry’s. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully Father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Harry almost smirks. The boy obviously knows of his own power but he certainly uses it in a different way than Harry does.

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy asks.

“No,” Harry says.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Harry says again. Quidditch must be a sport, though Harry knows nothing of it. Not that he’d admit that.

“I do — Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you’ll be in yet?”

“No,” Harry says once more. He’s not sure what the boy is referring, but again, he’d never admit that.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

Harry tilts his head, “And what’s so wrong with Hufflepuff?”

The boy scoffs, “What’s wrong with Hufflepuff? Where do I even start? For starters, all the mudbloods seem to end up as a Puff. I really don’t even think they should let them in Hogwarts. They’re just not the same. Some of them don’t even know about magic until they get their letters, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. Say, what’s your surname, anyway?”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Potter, if you must know. The very famous.”

The boy gapes, “Harry Potter?”

“Yes, I just said that.”

The boy closes his mouth, regains his composure, and then says haughtily, “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

“I hope you’re not trying to impress me, Draco,” Harry drawls, a grin working its way onto his way. “You see, I didn’t know of magic before I got my letter. And you don’t want to kick Harry Potter out of Hogwarts, do you?”

Draco opens and closes his mouth a few times before sniffing and saying, “I suppose not.”

Harry allows the grin to finally show, “That’s what I thought. You don’t want to cross me, Draco. I’d hate for you to be my enemy but that doesn’t mean I won’t take joy in it if such a thing happens. You’d be better to stay on my good side… at least, while you can.”

“That’s you done, my dear,” Madam Malkin returns and the tape measure that had been hard at work comes to a stop, landing in her waiting hand.

Harry hops off the stool and pays easily before turning back to Draco, “I’ll see you at Hogwarts, Draco.”

Draco is too scared to give a response.

The rest of Harry’s shopping experience goes smoothly — sans getting a wand, but that was more annoying than anything, and also intriguing because his wand is apparently the brother of Voldemort’s, the wizard who killed his parents — and when Harry finishes buying his books, along with some extras that aren’t required just so he can get his bearings in the wizarding world, Harry finds a nice alleyway to sort himself out in. His trunk is one of the more expensive ones that already has protective wards on it so that nobody but the owner can peer inside and — most importantly — can be shrunk without a spell. Once Harry puts all of his things into his trunk, he taps it with his new wand and marvels in the way it shrinks down to the size of a matchbox. He tucks it into his pocket — new clothes! He bought himself a whole new wardrobe from the muggle-worthy section of Madam Malkin’s and decided to put on a set and he relishes in the newness of them and, also most importantly, how they make him look very sleek and suave — and closes his eyes, wishing to be back in his room at the Dursleys. When he opens his eyes, he grins. 

This magic thing is pretty easy.

Chapter Text

Harry wrinkles his nose at the red-headed family. The matriarch is squawking about muggles and trains and platforms and even though she isn’t being that loud, it’s still loud enough for people to hear. It’s a wonder wizards have remained a secret for this long.

He watches from a distance as they enter the platform through a magical barrier. He waits until they’ve all gone through to walk through himself and again, wrinkles his nose as the sheer number of people bustling about. He passes by a boy telling his grandma that he lost his pet and then passes by a boy showing off a tarantula to a group of kids around him. Harry glances back at the spider as it crawls onto the boy's hand and his lip tugs up at the corner. He’s always had a soft spot for spiders and snakes. Maybe he’ll get a pet next year. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to get one this year. An owl sounds nice, though, so does a cat. As long as the cat isn’t like Mrs. Figg’s cats because he isn’t the biggest fan of them.

He finds a compartment and climbs in, patting his pocket to make sure his shrunken trunk is still there. He nods to himself when he feels it. He pats his other pocket and nods again when he feels his wand. 

He relaxes for all of fifteen minutes. The door of his compartment opens five minutes after the train begins moving and one of the red-heads from before stands there.

“Can I? Everywhere else is full,” the boy asks.

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Is everywhere else full or do you just want to sit with Harry Potter?”

The boy at least has the decency to look guilty.

“Sorry, it’s just — the whole train’s talking about it but nobody seemed to have the courage to come and ask to sit so, I thought… we saw you outside the platform,” he stutters out his response and Harry is liking him less and less. Judging by his clothes, he’s not very wealthy, and there’s a bit of dirt on his nose that makes Harry wrinkle his own. Harry normally doesn’t judge so quickly but really, how is he going to get anywhere in Hogwarts with a boy so not put together at his side? Honestly, he has a reputation to uphold.

“Well, you’ve got your glimpse of the Golden Boy, who is perfectly content to remain alone,” Harry says shortly. 

“Wha — but-but —”

“I don’t much like people, you’ll find, and if I do, it’s because they’ve done something I find impressive or attractive,” Harry says smoothly. “You’ve done neither. Thank you for taking the time to oogle, I quite appreciate it, but I’d like it more if you left me alone.”

The boy stares, mouth agape, before he scowls and turns on his heel, marching off. Harry rolls his eyes. Idiot.

Harry eventually pulls his trunk out and digs around to find a book before shrinking it and putting it back into his pocket. He focuses on the book — One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi — and is violently brought out of his focus by a sharp knock at his compartment door before it opens to reveal a bushy haired girl with large front teeth asking after a toad. He glances out the window and deducts that he must’ve been reading for quite some time before being interrupted.

“What are you reading?” the girl asks before Harry can tell her he hasn’t seen a toad. “One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. That’s one of the more interesting books we have this year, I must say, but A History of Magic is the most interesting. I know all of our course books by heart, of course. My parents are muggles, you see, dentists on top of that, so I had nothing better to do other than read over the summer. Magic is simply wonderful, I must say, wouldn’t you agree?”

Harry blinks slowly, “Yes. It’s… wonderful.”

“I’m Hermione Granger, by the way,” she says quickly. “And you?”

“Harry Potter.”

Her eyes widen, “Are you really? I’ve read all about you, of course, you’re in —”

“I don’t care to know about the books I’m in, Hermione,” Harry stops her. “They’re all wrong, anyway, and speak of a child they know nothing of. You’ve not read about me, Hermione, you’ve read about The-Boy-Who-Lived.”

Hermione slumps back, “Huh. I never thought of it that way. Interesting. Well, anyway, we should get back to looking for Trevor. Have you seen him? I never heard.”

“No. I have not.”

Hermione nods, “It was nice meeting you, Harry Potter. Come on, Neville.”

She marches off and Harry shakes his head. There’s two people he won’t be interacting with.

He has a reputation.

He’s brought out of his focus once more by the door of his compartment sliding open. This time, no words are spoken, and when Harry finally rips his eyes from his book, he finds himself looking at Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who is sitting across from him, looking relaxed and carefree. A large boy sits next to him and another the same size sits next to Harry. 

Harry’s lip curls and he snaps his book shut, “Draco.”

Draco grins easily, “Harry.”

“Why are you sitting with me?” Harry says. 

“Because we want to,” Draco shrugs. “Something the matter?”

Harry forces his face to remain passive as he says in a voice he knows is terrifying, judging by the reaction it always draws from people, “It seems you’ve not taken my warning to heart, Draco. When I said don’t cross me, I meant it. You don’t want to make me angry before we even arrive at school, do you?”

Draco raises a challenging eyebrow, “You don’t scare me, Potter.”

“Funny, you looked quite terrified in Madam Malkin’s,” Harry grins. “Are you… oh, don’t tell me you’re getting brave because of your friends. That’s pathetic, Draco.”

Draco scowls, “Malfoys aren’t pathetic, Potter.”

“Draco Malfoy is,” Harry almost laughs when he sees how much this gets on Draco’s nerves. “I don’t think you’re understanding, Draco, so let me rephrase it for you. I’m not going to bend at your will, but you will at mine. It’s better not to get on my bad side so the will you bend at isn’t a harmful one.”

Fear flashes behind Draco’s eyes but it doesn’t show on his face, a feat that’s only slightly impressive, “You’re awful brave, Potter.”

Harry fakes a pout, “Aw, is Draco scared?”

Draco scowls again, “You’re insane.”

Harry smiles toothily, “Oh, you’ve just figured that out? Boy, are you in for a treat this year.”

Draco and his goons flee quickly after that. 

Harry isn’t interrupted again.

Good.

OoOo

Harry tightens his tie, his face passive as he scans the room. He’s managed to get himself stuck behind the redhead boy from the train and in front of Hermione Granger but neither of them have noticed, the boy too busy talking to the one in front of him about the Sorting Ceremony and Hermione too busy explaining how the ceiling works to the girl next to her.

Harry’s eyes find the front again when Professor McGonagall appears, placing a hat on a stool. His lip curls at the state of it. He wouldn’t allow it in his house and Aunt Petunia would definitely agree with him. If there’s one thing he and his aunt can never butt heads on, it’s the fact that everything should be clean and in order and things that aren’t are worthy of nothing. 

He almost flinches when the hat begins to sing but, thankfully, manages not to. 

The Sorting moves slowly but not too slow. Harry only pays attention to two names before his own. Hermione Granger skips down to Gryffindor and Draco walks with a smug grin down to Slytherin. Before he knows it, “Potter, Harry,” is called and the hall goes quiet, hushed whispers washing over everyone as they register the presence of their lord and savior. Harry walks over to the stool and only barely holds back a grimace when the hat is placed on his head, though his lip does curl when it covers his eyes.

“Ah, hello, Harry Potter,” the hat says and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “Quite the conundrum you are.”

Harry isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. His eyebrows slowly lower as he realizes that the hat isn’t speaking aloud, but in his head.

“Quite courageous, yes, and loyal to those you deem worthy, though the thirst for knowledge is certainly very prominent. And, my my, the hunger for power,” the hat muses. “The answer is quite obvious, I must say. Not unexpected. Had it not been for the prejudice surrounding the house, I would’ve placed your parents there in a heartbeat. It is my firm belief — one you should have too, considering what I am — that every Gryffindor is just another house in a disguise, and most of them are Slytherins. So, Harry Potter, shall you become a wolf in sheep’s clothing like your mother and father or embrace your inner Snake?”

Harry thinks the answer is just as obvious as the hat says it is.

“Of course. Well, I can’t say it’ll be easy, Mr. Potter, but I don’t think you’ll have much trouble, anyway. You’re different from the others who seek power. I suppose seeking it and knowing how to get it are two different things. You’ll do great things, Mr. Potter, and who am I to judge the way you go about it? My advice to you — observe. A lot can be said about a person just by the way they hold themselves when they assume nobody is watching. Now, before you become a hat stall, SLYTHERIN!”

Harry relishes in the stunned silence as Professor McGonagall takes the hat from him. He walks with practiced ease over to the Slytherin table and, seeing Draco’s shocked and slightly scared look, sits next to the blond boy, a slightly smug look crossing over his face. Harry sees Draco’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and smirks. 

Professor McGonagall moves on swiftly. Ron Weasley, the redhead from the train, goes to Gryffindor. Blaise Zabini is the last one to be sorted and he comes to Slytherin, plopping down on Harry’s other side.

Harry frowns at the ‘speech’ Dumbledore gives before the feast starts. If he wants to start the feast, just do it, there’s no need to say such ridiculous things. Harry decidedly doesn’t join the applause. When the food appears, Harry begins to carefully grab what he wants.

“So, Potter,” Blaise speaks up once he’s grabbed his own food. “Slytherin?”

Honestly, does nobody know what a reputation is? Harry’s would be ruined had he gone anywhere else. 

“Problem, Blaise?” Harry says with a raised eyebrow, picking up his fork.

Blaise blinks, the use of his first name throwing his off slightly before he quickly comes back to himself, “No. No problem at all. It’s just quite shocking. Potters are Gryffindor, didn’t you know?”

“No, I didn’t, actually, thank you for telling me,” Harry says, sending Blaise reeling again. 

Harry fights a smirk as he takes a bite of his food.

“Well, I don’t find it all that shocking, really,” Draco joins the conversation, albeit looking very reluctant to do so. 

“Oh?” Harry looks at him. “And do tell me why, Draco.”

Draco’s lip curls, “I hardly think that’s necessary, Potter.”

“So, even you believe in those stereotypes? Hate to break it to you, Draco, but I could’ve easily been in any House,” Harry says. “The hat just saw Slytherin as most beneficial for me. Just because I scared you doesn’t mean I’m one hundred percent Snake.”

There’s quiet laughter from the people around them while Draco’s face twists up in anger. 

“You didn’t scare me, Potter, I just don’t think you understand how unsettling you are.”

“I understand perfectly well,” Harry says. “Honestly, Draco, you aren’t going to hurt me with your words, you’re just moving yourself closer and closer to my bad side and haven’t I already warned you of that twice now? Let me rephrase something I told you in Madam Malkin’s, maybe then you’ll get it — I didn’t truly know about magic until my letter arrived but I knew by then that I had abilities others didn’t. I didn’t have the luxurious life all the books paint, I had to make that life myself. And I did make that life. It’s quite simple really. Once you cross me, you can’t get back over that line. You’ve not done it yet, Draco, but you’re dangerously close. I’ll not warn you again.”

Harry keeps his eyes trained on Draco. Around them, people shift uncomfortably or shoot looks at their friends. Harry doesn’t notice.

“Do you finally understand, Draco?” Harry asks sweetly. “I can word it another way if not.”

Draco scoots away, only slightly, “I get it.”

“Good.”

Nobody speaks to Harry for the rest of the feast, all of them too busy exchanging slightly terrified looks with their friends because he is not like we imagined he would be. 

Harry thinks keeping something that could kill you in a castle full of impulsive children is a very bad decision but seeing as he’s one of the impulsive children, he has no say in such a thing.

The Slytherin Common Room is more cozy than Harry imagined it would be, it’s just very dark because of all the green and the fact that all the windows show the lake and not the sky. 

Harry quickly tunes into the Prefect's speech when he hears the word politics.

Every year has their own hierarchy; a Year Ruler and their right-hand. First years never typically have an established Year Ruler, instead following blindly after the second year Year Ruler until they become second years and properly join the hierarchy. Harry thinks this is preposterous and totally plans to become the first year Year Ruler and have actual power over his year. Third year and above usually just keep to their own years, though there is some animosity between sixth and seventh year. There’s a King or Queen above it all, however. They are usually a sixth or seventh year, though this year, it’s a fifth year named Marcus Flint, who is also Quidditch Captain and a Prefect. It’s good to stay on the King or Queen’s good side, otherwise you’ll most likely end up shunned or banished from the common room until his or her ‘reign’ is over. Anybody can challenge the King or Queen at any time but most just leave it alone because it’s not worth it, considering they usually lose and if you lose a challenge, your punishment is worse than just getting on their bad side. 

Marcus then proceeds to introduce the Year Rulers, sans first year, and then Professor Snape, their Head of House, swoops in. He explains the dorms — no boys in the girls dorms; no girls in the boys dorms — and curfew, then what time breakfast, lunch, and dinner starts, and that they should be at breakfast early tomorrow so he can hand out their time tables. Then, he talks about expectations.

“All of you,” he eyes Harry with this one, “should be well-behaved. As Slytherins are already at a disadvantage, I will never take points from you, but should you misbehave, I will not be kind in reprimanding you,” again, he eyes Harry. “Am I understood?”

Everyone nods. 

Professor Snape leaves again and Marcus takes his place.

“One more thing before you head to bed,” Marcus says. “Slytherin Politics are not to be conversed about with other houses, except those just as involved, as is the case with a few Ravenclaws and the Head Girl this year, who is a Hufflepuff. Under no circumstance should a Gryffindor hear about our system. Is that understood?”

Everyone nods again.

Marcus scans them all and nods once, “Have a good night. Welcome to Slytherin.”

Harry heads upstairs to his dorm, the other first year boys following behind, looking like kicked puppies behind him. Harry picks his bed first — the cleanest looking one near the door and opposite from the large window displaying the underside of the lake they crossed. Harry takes his trunk out of his pocket and enlarges it, pushing it up against the end of his bed. 

He stands up straight, observing the other boys. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle are the two boys who sat with Draco on the train and then there’s Blaise and Draco and then a boy Harry thinks he saw sitting near him at the feast named Theodore Nott. 

He dresses in his pajamas quickly and eyes his bed with a skeptical look. He doesn’t know how to put protective wards up yet — he should learn that as quickly as he can. He doesn’t trust most of the House to heed his warnings yet. They’ll learn quickly, though. Hopefully.

He lays down without a word to his new roommates, shutting his curtains. 

This’ll be fun.

Chapter Text

Harry’s first classes go well, he thinks, and without incident either. This goes down the drain when he arrives at his first Potions class with Gryffindors. He arrives late, first of all, because he had been cornered by some idiot second year Gryffindors trying to ridicule him for being a Snake and not a Lion and Harry had… knocked some sense into them. Professor Snape, upon Harry’s late arrival, attempts to humiliate him in front of the class before forcing him to sit with Gryffindor Ron Weasley, seeing as it’s the only available seat. He then announces that everybody’s table partner will be their partner for the remainder of the year — not term, year — and that he’ll deduct points for any complaining he hears. He does just that when Ron makes an offhand comment about how Harry was rude to him on the train to the boys at the table next to them. 

And then, Harry is slightly horrified when Snape continues to try and humiliate him.

“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry blinks. Ron covers his mouth, looking like he’s trying not to laugh and get more points taken away from his house. 

“I’m not sure, sir,” Harry says. He’s not Hermione Granger, — who is on the edge of her seat with her hand raised — he didn’t memorize all their course books before coming to Hogwarts. He was more focused on the books that told him the ins and outs of the wizarding world and what he should expect, considering nobody bothered to tell him anything. Or maybe Hagrid did and he just hadn’t been listening. That’s beside the point.

Snape’s lip curls and he tsks, “Fame clearly isn’t everything.”

Harry presses his lips together to stop a smart remark. He can talk back to his housemates but not his Head of House.

“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Hermione is looking desperate at this point, it’s almost funny. Ron’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter at seeing the boy who was so rude to him get shown up.

Harry may not be able to talk back but facial expressions aren’t off the table, at least, he doesn’t think so. He raises an eyebrow before replying, “Well, I’m not sure, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?”

Harry raises his other eyebrow.

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” Snape continues, ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand. She stands up at this, looking like she’s trying to touch the ceiling with how high she’s raising her hand.

Harry reaches up and pushes his glasses up his nose, “I obviously don’t know, sir. I think Hermione does, though.”

Snape’s face almost conveys disbelief before he scowls and says sharply, “Sit down. For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

Harry, unlike Ron’s quick rummaging, calmly takes out a piece of parchment and his quill — self-inking! It was more expensive but Harry thinks it’ll be worth it — and presses his lips together to hide a smirk when Snape says, above the noise of others taking out parchment and quills, “A point from Gryffindor for laughing, Weasley.”

Gryffindor doesn’t bear too well for the remainder of class, though the humiliating-Harry part stops. Snape billows around class, criticizing everybody for little mistakes, and praising Draco for seemingly nothing at all. Harry wonders why Snape likes Draco so much and makes a mental note to ask later that night in the dorm. 

Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor, somehow manages to melt his cauldron into a blob, spilling his potion everywhere and forcing everyone onto their stools. Snape vanishes it easily, orders Seamus Finnigan to take Neville to the hospital wing, and takes another point from Ron for, apparently, not paying attention to Neville and stopping him from messing up. Ron almost argues but Harry, not in the mood to hear it, kicks his leg and glares at him, which effectively shuts him up for the remainder of class.

Later, as Harry undresses methodically, he says slowly, “Snape… what’s the relationship there, Draco?”

Draco looks up from where he had been rummaging through his trunk for something and scowls, “What’s it to you, Potter?”

“Just curious,” Harry shrugs, beginning to unbutton his shirt as he waits for an answer.

Draco’s lip curls, “If you must know, he’s my godfather.”

Harry nods, “Makes sense.”

None of the boys speak to Harry again for the rest of the night.

The next week starts and Harry, after seeing some first years gathered at the bulletin board by the passageway leading out of the common room, finds out that they’ll be beginning flying lessons and that Slytherins have them with Gryffindors.

Harry, on Thursday morning, watches as Draco, Vincent, and Gregory purposely pass by the Gryffindor table and mess with Neville, who appears to have gotten something from his grandmother. It’s slightly amusing, watching Ron, Seamus, and Dean Thomas jump up to defend their friend from the big bad Slytherin, but not so much when Professor McGonagall swoops in and puts a stop to the inevitable fight.

The Slytherin arrive at their flying lesson before the Gryffindors, which isn’t surprising. What is surprising, though, is Pansy Parkinson marching up to Harry and introducing herself in a voice much less haughty than Draco’s, though it’s still obvious that she takes pride in her name.

Harry knows that Pansy and Draco are close — Draco said in their dorm that they’ve known each other since they were in nappies, and that no, Greg, I’d never think of her like that, she’s practically my sister, you imbecile — but he sees no problem in talking to her.

“Word travels fast around the girls dorm, you know, and you’re all they seem to talk about,” Pansy says. “At least, for the upper years. A lot of them heard you speaking to Draco and Blaise at the opening feast, though I was too far away to hear it properly.”

“Well, I’m sure they got a lot of information wrong, rumors are like that,” Harry says.

Pansy nods in agreement, “I know that. I wanted to hear it from you, make sure I know the real story. From what I’ve heard so far, it’s quite entertaining.”

“Pansy —”

“Oh, please, Draco, I take pleasure in embarrassing you, how long have you known me?” Pansy smirks.

Oh, Harry likes her. 

But before Harry can recount his warning to Draco, the Gryffindor stumble down and Pansy quickly falls into line next to Harry, her lip curled. She’s gazing at one girl in particular and Harry wonders what happened between them.

Madam Hooch, their flying instructor, arrives and after a moment, orders them all to stand next to brooms. Harry ends up in between Pansy and Draco, next to a broom that looks all right for the most part, if you ignore the stray twigs at the end that stick out at odd angles. 

When he sticks his hand out and says Up! his broom flies directly into his hand, just as Draco’s does. Pansy’s rolls over and when she says it again, it zooms into her head. Harry smirks when Ron’s flies up and hits him in the face. 

Harry gets more and more excited about flying as he mounts his broom and then feels very disappointed when Neville takes off too early and then falls, breaking his wrist. Madam Hooch orders them not to move and then walks away with him.

There’s a moment of silence before Draco snorts and that makes everyone — except for Harry — begin to laugh. 

“Did you see his face, the great lump?” Draco says.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” the girl Pansy had been glaring at says.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” Pansy says nastily, looking all too thrilled at having a chance to fight with the girl. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati.”

“Look!” Draco darts forward, effectively cutting off Parvati’s next words, and picks up something out of the grass. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, looking at the ball. 

“Give it back, Malfoy,” Ron steps forward. 

Draco smiles evilly, “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?”

Harry, realizing what’s about to happen, quickly steps forward as well and grips Draco’s wrist — the one holding his broom — and says quietly, “Don’t you dare.”

Draco flinches and, not wanting to seem weak in front of a bunch of Gryffindors, rises to the challenge, “Or what, Potter?”

“Oh, don’t make me remind you for a fourth time,” Harry grins. “Or — oh, I don’t suppose you actually want to find out what I mean when I tell you not to cross me. Give it back and put the broom down. I’ll not let you get us points taken away for your stupidity.”

Draco scowls, rips his wrist out of his Harry’s grip, and listens. He throws the ball past Ron and into the grass and Harry rolls his eyes as he throws his broom onto the ground and glares daggers at Harry. Pansy laughs into her hand and says quietly, “I like you, Harry Potter.”

Harry allows a small, real smile to pass over his face, “I like you too, Pansy Parkinson.”

And from that point on, Pansy is by Harry’s side almost always. Harry gets to know her more and learns that she, Draco, Parvati, and Padma were all close as kids but after their parents got into a big fight that was passed onto the kids, they all stopped talking. It’s a big sore spot so Harry doesn’t bring it up anymore. She’s actually pretty funny and is able to keep up with Harry’s sarcasm and sass with ease, something he absolutely loves but pretends annoys him. Thanks to the two of them getting close, Draco stops being a huge arsehole and brings it down to just mild, making him much easier to be around.

By the time Halloween rolls around, Harry finds himself calling the two his friends and, more importantly, finds that he holds the most power over the first years. This is more apparent when Professor Quirrell comes running in, yelling about a troll, and all the first years turn to Harry as chaos ensues. Harry, quickly taking his new role as Year Ruler and running with him, does a mental tally and concludes that everybody is there and safe. Dumbledore gets everyone’s attention and orders them all to their dorms, where the feast will resume, before he and the other professors leave. Chaos breaks out again and while the other houses are trying to figure out how to properly lead everyone to their dorms, Marcus Flint climbs onto the table and starts counting.

“Okay, we’re all here,” he says, his voice quiet enough not to carry across the hall but loud enough for them all to hear. “Seeing as our dorms are in the dungeons, and that’s where the troll is, we naturally won’t be returning until the troll is dealt with.” He suddenly narrows his eyes and looks around, “Is everyone here? I know some of you enjoy eating in the kitchens more than here. Have we all been accounted for?”

He glances at each Year Ruler and stops at the second year one, “Did you count the first years?”

“I did,” Harry speaks up.

Marcus looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“We’re all here.”

Marcus nods and hops down to the floor, “Let’s get some sleeping bags and food, then.”

As the upper Year Rulers start on that, Marcus makes his way over to Harry, everybody parting like the Red Sea for him as he walks. He pulls him off to the side, watches for a moment as Hufflepuff leaves and Ravenclaw follows behind quickly, Gryffindor being the last to go, and then turns to Harry and says, “You’re the Year Ruler?”

“Apparently,” Harry says. “I knew it was becoming a thing, of course, but I suppose it just got confirmed tonight. Theodore told me the second year Year Ruler has started looking the other way, too — so, it’s official, I assume, because of that.”

Marcus nods, “That’s good, I suppose. You’re not so bad, Harry, and you clearly know how to control people. I’ve seen you with Draco — with everybody, really — and it’s quite amusing, very impressive. I think… I think you’ll make a fine King.”

Harry grins, “Am I that obvious?”

“To me, yes,” Marcus says. “And that was my approval, by the way. If nobody challenges me, I’ll be King for two more years, and you’ll be in your fourth year when I’m gone… it’s been a while since we’ve had a King so young but I honestly think you’d do Slytherin good. With Pansy and Draco by your side, you’ll be nearly unstoppable, especially if you get on their parents’ good graces. I’d suggest going home with one of them for Yule. And read up on Pureblood etiquette — old families like theirs and mine appreciate traditional ways.”

Harry nods, “Thanks, Marcus. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Marcus nods too, clapping Harry on the shoulder, and then turning and walking away. 

House elves — Pansy whispers what they are and what they do into his ear when she sees the wary look he’s giving them — give everyone sleeping bags and pillows and more food to eat. Harry falls asleep in between a complaining Draco and an amused Pansy, a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

November rolls around and Harry goes to his first Quidditch game. Draco and Pansy explain the rules excitedly to him as they walk and Harry finds a new love and even lets go of his put together personality for a while to scream and cheer along with his friends. 

December comes and Harry, having read up on pureblood etiquette like Marcus suggested, immediately accepts Draco’s invitation to spend Yule break with him. Draco’s parents are, apparently, very excited to meet Harry Potter, something that Harry almost doesn’t believe, considering all he’s heard about the Malfoys’ involvement with Voldemort.

Harry sits with Pansy and Draco on the train ride home and is in the middle of scolding them for their outdated views on muggleborns for the millionth time when the compartment door slides open to reveal a ruffled Theodore and a glowering Blaise. 

Harry straightens up immediately, “What’s happened?”

“Happening,” Blaise corrects with a scowl. “Weasley, Finnigan, Thomas, Crabbe, and Goyle. We tried to break it up with Granger but they’re bloody insane.”

Harry sighs and stands, walking past them and quickly walking down the length of the train. It’s not hard to find, there’s a crowd of students watching. He pushes his way past, a few Slytherins quickly jumping aside when they see him, and watches for a second as Vincent gets a punch in on Seamus, only to be thrown off thanks to Dean. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he finally snaps. His voice makes them all go still. Hermione breathes a sigh of relief, tugging Ron away quickly.

“They started it, Potter,” Seamus stumbles to his feet, wiping his bloody nose. “Talking about Ron’s family; said some bullshit to Dean.”

“Gryffindors,” Harry hisses. “Can’t even take an insult without throwing a punch. Have you no shame?”

But Harry doesn’t have the patience to listen to their stuttering excuses. 

He turns to Vincent and Gregory, “Did you two throw the first hit?”

For however stupid everybody claims the two to be, they’re at least reliable when it comes to the correct story about fights, considering how many they get in. When they shake their heads, wiping the blood from their own wounds, Harry believes them.

“They still baited us into doing it!” Dean says incredulously.

“They did no such thing, Thomas,” Harry says. “They insulted you. It was you who decided instead of ignoring them — the proper and smart thing to do — that you would just punch them. It was just as much of your fault as theirs. And before you accuse me of defending them just because they’re Slytherins, just know that they aren’t getting off easy either. You’re lucky I don’t report this to Professor McGonagall. Honestly, fighting on the train… Next time, Weasley, Thomas, just ignore somebody who insults you. I don’t have the patience to do this again. Vincent, Greg, follow me.”

After some heavy scolding, he sends the two back to their compartment and collapses into his seat across from Draco and Pansy, frowning.

“Having fun?” Pansy grins.

Harry rolls his eyes, “Usually. I seem to have forgotten how much I dislike Gryffindors, specifically Ronald Weasley.”

Draco snorts, “You’ll get along swiftly with my father if you voice that to him. I’ve not met a man who detest the Weasleys more than him.”

“I dislike Weasley because of his personality, Draco, not —”

And he’s off on a tangent about purebloods and their prejudices against those purebloods who aren’t traditional. Draco and Pansy pout the whole time he speaks but by the time they step onto the platform, Harry has managed to convince them that muggleborns and ‘blood traitors’ aren’t the worst and that they should dislike Ron because of his personality and not his beliefs. 

Draco’s parents are silent until they’ve flooed — a magical way of transportation that involves powder and fire — back to Malfoy Manor. There, Mrs. Malfoy hugs her son delicately, Mr. Malfoy gives his shoulder a squeeze, and then they turn to Harry.

“Mr. Potter,” Mr. Malfoy says smoothly. “Draco has spoken highly of you in his letters. I must say, I was quite surprised to hear that you’re a Slytherin.”

“I think most everybody was,” Harry smiles and sees Mr. Malfoy’s lip quirk up at the corner. He sticks his hand out, “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy. Draco has told me a lot about you.”

Mr. Malfoy looks almost impressed by him as he takes Harry’s hand, giving it a firm shake. 

Mrs. Malfoy skips the handshake and hugs Harry, much to his surprise. “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Harry.”

Harry smiles, “And you as well, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Draco eventually tugs Harry away and to his room, which is much cleaner and put together than Harry imagined it would be, considering the way Draco lives at Hogwarts.

“The way you dealt with Vincent and Greg,” Draco starts, “it was fantastic. Marcus was correct when he said you’d be a good King. I would’ve never admitted it before but…”

Harry laughs, a real laugh that has Draco smiling widely, “Who knew all I had to do was befriend Pansy to get you to like me?”

Draco rolls his eyes, “Well, you’re pushing it with that.”

Harry laughs again and Draco joins him and for a moment, the two just laugh. 

A day later, Harry meets Dobby and Draco gets another scolding for how he treats the elf. Draco, now smart enough to know that Harry knows what he’s talking about, especially when it comes to forcing people to do things, listens and the next time Dobby pops into his room, Draco actually says thank you. Dobby’s eyes fill with tears and he disappears before he breaks down completely. 

Yule comes around quickly and Harry wakes up how he normally does: tangled with Draco in his bed. They never speak of how they sleep or wake up and Harry thinks this is for the best. The only difference, however, are the presents at the end of the bed, obviously meant for Harry. Draco jumps up and, after tugging on proper clothes, scoops up Harry’s presents and declares, “You’ll open them with us like a family, Harry.”

Harry ignores the way his heart skips a beat. He gets dressed properly as well and heads down to the main sitting room to find Pansy and her parents. Pansy makes a beeline for him and hugs him tightly, wishing him a, “Happy Yule, Har!” before excitedly introducing him to her mother and father. He gets told that they’ll eat breakfast after they open presents — it’s what they do every year.

Harry allows everybody else to open their presents before him before he begins on his own small stack. He opens Draco’s first after he insists.

It's a book called Pureblood Genealogy: A Guide to All Known Pureblood Families. 

“I thought you might like to know about your family, at least, on your father’s side,” Draco explains. “Because, really, the Potter lineage is quite interesting.”

“Thank you, Draco,” Harry says genuinely and Draco beams. 

He opens Pansy’s next and finds a bracelet with the words I like you, Harry Potter etched onto it. It’s only noticeable if you look closely, otherwise it just looks like a leather band.

“I’ve got one too,” Pansy pulls her sleeve back to show him. “I thought — what’s something I could put on there that he’d like? And so, naturally, I was going to put one of your many lines you told Draco before you became friends, but then I remembered why we started to become friends and knew that was it. What do you think?”

Harry huffs a laugh, “It’s wonderful, Pansy.”

Pansy smiles widely.

Next up, he grabs a small envelope. It’s a fifty-pence piece from his aunt and uncle and he almost bursts out laughing when he reads their note.

“Is this Muggle money?” Draco takes it from it, flipping it over in his hand a few times, his face a mixture of confusion and disgust. “That’s… a useless present.”

Harry does laugh at that, “Quite. I assume my aunt and uncle got a letter reminding them that it’s Yule and that they should send a present so they just grabbed the closest thing and shoved it into an envelope to get the owl out of their house. They detest magic. It’s really quite funny.”

Draco shoots him an amused look, “I still stand by my original statement about you.”

“As you should,” Harry grins, taking the last package. It feels almost like air and wonders if somebody really did send him nothing for a moment before unwrapping it and realizing it’s a cloak of some sort.

Mrs. Malfoy sighs at the sight of it, “I thought I’d never see that old thing again. Well, see isn’t the right word, I suppose…”

“What is it?” Harry says. He unfolds it and a note falls into his lap.

“An Invisibility Cloak,” Mrs. Malfoy says. “Your father’s, I presume. I was in school with him for only a year and there’s no telling how many times I pulled that blasted thing off of him while patrolling the corridors. He snuck out almost every night, I imagine.”

Harry picks up the note and unfolds it, reading it quickly.

“It was my father’s,” Harry mumbles. “There’s no signature and I don’t recognize the handwriting. They said he left it with them before he died.”

“Not likely,” Mrs. Malfoy sounds amused. “Let me see it… oh, yes, of course. Dumbledore. No, your father would have never willingly handed his cloak over to Dumbledore, I know that much. When the Potters went into hiding, Dumbledore most likely took it from him so he wouldn’t sneak out of the house and risk giving themselves away. A smart move, on Dumbledore’s part, but giving it to you… I’m glad you’re a Slytherin and not a Gryffindor.”

Harry bunches the cloak up in his fists, “He doesn’t seem very responsible.”

This earns a laugh from all four adults in the room.

“No, dear, he certainly doesn’t,” Mrs. Parkinson says. “Dumbledore’s an admirable wizard — I’ll give him that much, at least — but he’s absolutely mad. I firmly believe that had he not defeated Grindelwald, he wouldn’t still be Headmaster of that school. Fame isn’t everything, dear, but it certainly gives you an advantage and power over others. Dumbledore uses this everyday.”

Harry feels horror strike through him and he looks at his friends. They both understand immediately and laugh.

“Wha — why are you laughing?” 

“Harry,” Pansy calms down, placing a gentle hand on his arm, “everything you’ve gained is because of the fact that you’re terrifying, not because you’re Harry Potter.”

“Well, I’m sure some of it is because you’re Harry Potter but, really, you’re the exact opposite of what everybody was expecting, so it’s mainly because you’re scary,” Draco says. “I would know.”

A laugh bubbles out of Harry before he can stop it, “That’s the first time you’ve admitted to me scaring you.”

“It’s your second Christmas gift from me.”

Harry laughs again. 

“Oh, before we forget, you’ve got one more present,” Mrs. Malfoy stands. “I’ll go get it.”

She leaves and returns a few minutes later, holding something behind her back. She hands him a letter first. In big, clunky letters, Harry learns that this was supposed to be his birthday present from Hagrid but since Harry slipped around and Hagrid couldn’t find him and then he could never catch him at a good time during school, he thought he’d just send it for Yule. Mrs. Malfoy then reveals a beautiful snowy owl who, when let out of her cage, flies over to Harry and lands on his arm, examining him curiously. 

“Oh,” he breathes. “Wow. You’re beautiful.”

She coos happily, hopping onto his shoulder and beginning to preen his hair. 

“I feel slightly bad for leaving him now,” Harry mumbles.

Draco snorts, “Only now?”

“He was attracting a lot of unwanted attention. He was nice enough, but… very… there, y’know?” Harry reaches up and strokes the owl’s back lightly. “He bought me an owl, though, so my opinion is raised significantly.”

Pansy laughs, “Is that all it takes to win you over? Presents? Don’t let the rest of the House know.”

“Speaking of,” Harry says, dropping his hand into his lap and clasping it with his other, “I’ve got one last present for you two.”

“Oh?” Draco says. 

“Pray tell,” Pansy says.

“Effective… at the start of our second year or immediately, you choose, I’d like you both to become my right hands.”

Both their eyes widen.

“Really?” Pansy says.

“Both of us?” Draco says.

Harry nods.

“Wicked — uh, I mean —”

Harry laughs and Draco only looks embarrassed for a second before he’s laughing too. Pansy joins them and the four adults watch in amusement as the trio continues to laugh. 

Later, Harry is startled by Professor Snape arriving and even more startled by the fact that he’s not wearing his black robes, nor is his hair greasy. He looks… normal. It’s terrifying. 

When term starts back up, Snape is considerably less nasty toward him, especially when he learns that Draco is Harry’s right hand. Draco and Pansy are all too thrilled to have this new power over the first years and Harry finds it immensely amusing. 

All in all, Harry thinks his life is better than it ever has been before.

That is, until the end of the year rolls around.

Chapter Text

Harry, so distracted with Slytherin Politics and leading his little army of first years, forgot about the third floor and the ‘if-you-do-not-wish-to-die-a-horrible-death’ warning. 

As he starts the walk from the owlery back down the common room, a cloaked figure suddenly corners him, holds him at wand point, and leads him to the forbidden third floor corridor.

Harry follows the man wordlessly, slightly afraid of what he might do if Harry doesn’t. He follows him through a room full of Devil’s Snare, a room full of flying keys, a room with a giant chess board in it, a room housing a troll, a room holding a riddle and potions, and then finally, a room with only a mirror in it. Just as Harry finally works up the courage to say something, ropes appear and wrap themselves around him, sending him violently back into his past and, specifically, to the last time he was tied up.

It’s been a long time since Harry has had such a violent reminder of the things his uncle used to do to him so the sudden ropes immediately cause him to spiral into a flashback/panic, leaving him an incoherent, sobbing mess, pleading with the mystery man to leave him alone and to please untie him and please don’t touch him there, it’s hurts.

This is so violent and unexpected that Harry’s body decides that instead of continuing to allow this horrible panic to continue, it’s just going to shut down. 

Harry wakes up in the hospital wing with Professor Dumbledore sitting on the end of his bed.

He recoils so fast, his leg cramps and he winces as he slumps back against his bed, twisting his leg this way and that to try and get rid of the cramp.

“It’s alright, Harry, you’re alright,” Dumbledore says gently and Harry’s face twists up, though he remains silent. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I’d rather not,” Harry says coldly. His eyes feel irritated. He reaches up and rubs them quickly. He hasn’t cried in so long — hasn’t had a reason to cry — so he forgot what it felt like to wake up after crying yourself to sleep. Not that that’s even remotely close to what he did but still.

Dumbledore doesn’t seem fazed by the harsh way Harry spoke, “I meant how you arrived down there in the first place, my boy.”

Harry tries not to flinch but after the horrible flashback he just had, the word ‘boy’ is almost enough to send him reeling again. He clears his throat, finding it a little hoarse and sore from the screaming he was doing, “The man forced me down there. I don’t know why. I guess he thought I could help him with something but…”

“Harry, when I arrived, you were passed out and the room was empty — besides the mirror, of course. Can you tell me what happened once you got into the room holding the mirror?”

Harry bristles, “Sir, if it’s all the same to you, I really don’t want to keep thinking about it. All you should need from me is the fact that I was forced down there for no apparent reason, not why I wasn’t awake when you arrived. Who forced me down there?”

The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye falters, “Professor Quirrell, my boy.”

Harry flinches again, folding in on himself, “Quirrell? He wasn’t stuttering.”

“That’s because Qurriell doesn’t have a stutter, my boy,” Dumbledore says, almost… amused? 

Harry closes his eyes, desperately wishing for anybody but the headmaster to be sitting there, “Why did he want me? What’s down there? Why are you hiding it with three-headed dogs and giant chess sets? And why aren’t you hiding it with better things? Those were trivial…”

But Harry never gets his answer because Madam Pomfrey, noticing the way Harry is slowly trying to make himself appear smaller and smaller, shoos Dumbledore out of the hospital wing with harsh scoldings that almost make Harry smirk. 

“I apologize, Mr. Potter,” she says once he’s gone, her voice much softer.

Harry shrugs, slowly straightening up, “Can I go?”

Madam Pomfrey gives him an incredulous look, “Mr. Potter, you suffered from a very severe panic attack.”

“I’m fine now.”

Madam Pomfrey sighs, “You may feel fine now but I’d like to keep you for at least one more day.”

Harry stares at her. 

She stares back before shaking her head, “You Year Rulers, I swear…”

Harry’s eyes widen.

“Oh, shush up, I was a Slytherin too,” Madam Pomfrey says before he can open his mouth. “A Year Ruler in my sixth and seventh year. I know all too well how you don’t like to show weakness.”

Harry slumps back, “Does everybody know?”

“Everybody knows that something happened between you and someone, they don’t know what exactly happened down there.”

Harry nods, “That’s good.”

An hour later, Harry practically begs Madam Pomfrey to let Draco and Pansy in and succeeds. The two rush over to his side and Pansy throws herself on him. He hugs back quickly.

“You had us worried sick, Harry!” Pansy steps back, crossing her arms. “Disappearing like that!”

“Well, I wasn’t given much choice in the matter, he held me at wand point,” Harry says.

“Why?” Draco says impatiently.

“I don’t know. Madam Pomfrey shooed Dumbledore out of here before he could answer. It was Professor Quirrell apparently. He’s been faking his stutter.”

Pansy and Draco make eye contact.

“What?” Harry says sharply. “What happened?”

“Harry, Dumbledore announced at breakfast this morning that Quirrell… Quirrell died,” Draco says. “It was that night you disappeared.”

“There’s a crazy rumor spreading because of the Gryffindors that you killed him —”

“Killed him?” Harry says incredulously. “He almost killed me! Not directly, it was a thing but — I didn’t kill him!”

“We know that, Harry,” Pansy says gently. “But are you sure it was Quirrell?”

“Dumbledore told me it was when I asked and when I thought about it, it sounded like him. I just didn’t think it could be him because of the stutter,” Harry says. “I suppose he died after I passed out because I don’t remember it.”

“What happened?” Draco sounds desperate. “Why are you in here? You aren’t hurt.”

Harry falters, looking at both of him fearfully, “I’ll — okay, I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anybody else.”

They nod immediately.

“When I got down there, he-he tied me up,” Harry crosses his arms over his chest, squeezing his sides. “The last time I was tied up like that… it wasn’t good, so-so when the ropes wrapped themselves around me, I started having a panic attack. I passed out because of it, I guess.”

“Oh, Harry,” Pansy whispers. “Of course we won’t tell anybody, are you daft?”

Harry huffs a laugh, “Only a little.”

Draco rolls his eyes, “Please. You’re almost top of the class — behind that Granger, and me, of course.”

Harry drops his arms, “Don’t get boastful about it, Draco, I might pass you next year.”

Draco suddenly brightens, “Harry — would you like to visit over the summer? Mother’s dying to see you again and Father surprisingly liked you. I think making us your right hands in front of them really helped.”

“I know what I’m doing, Draco, I’m not an idiot,” Harry grins. “I’d love to. Only problem — I still live with my Muggle relatives and I don’t think I’m very comfortable allowing your parents to come pick me up, especially since my aunt and uncle hate magic so much, so I’m not sure how that'll work.”

“Dobby can come get you,” Draco says easily. “He can apparate just like wizards and witches and he won’t bother your relatives.”

Harry nods, “Okay. Dobby. Got it.”

Harry is freed the next morning and, just to stay on the safe side and make sure his panic doesn’t return, he eats in the kitchens for a few days with Pansy and Draco. Seeing the house elves down there and speaking with them helps the two get a better understanding of why Harry thinks it’s important to be nice to them and Harry is very proud to be changing their prejudices like he is.

The end-of-term feast comes around quickly and when Harry steps into the Great Hall, a hush falls over everyone for a moment before they all grow louder than they were before. The rumor that Harry killed Quirrell is as strong as ever. He keeps his head held high as he walks down to his table and sits down in his usual spot, right in the middle of his first years. Pansy and Draco sit on either side of him, like usual, and they all tune out the loud whispers from the other tables.

Dumbledore stands and silences everybody and begins his speech. When it comes to the points, it’s revealed that Slytherin is in the lead, which has been the case for several years now. But then, oh boy, Dumbledore pulls a plot twist that has Harry frowning. Recent events need to be taken into account. Ah, so here’s that other rumor Harry thought he heard. Granger and Weasley saving the day that night Harry went down with Quirrell. He hadn’t bothered to listen but apparently, it was them who found him passed out, face covered in tears and snot, and no longer tied up, and it was them who spread the rumor that Harry killed Quirrell. Just because Quirrell wasn’t there when they arrived, but Harry was. There’s a reason he hates those two.

So, Gryffindor earns a total of 170 points. Sixty for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen, sixty for using cool logic in the face of fire, and fifty for standing up to not your enemies, but your friends. It puts them in first place, ripping Slytherin’s victory from under their feet, and they’re delighted about it. Slytherin not so much.

“That bullshit!” Draco cries and Harry full heartedly agrees. “You almost died down there and not one point was given to you!”

“I didn’t exactly do much, except cry a little,” Harry says, earning cries of protests from his friends.

“Don’t tell me you think they deserve to win!” Pansy points at the still cheering table across the Great Hall. Harry follows her finger and catches Weasley and Granger’s eye. They look awfully smug for meddling with something that didn’t concern them. Though, if they meddled, they probably knew what was down there in the first place, something Harry still doesn’t know. 

“Of course not, Pansy,” Harry says. “I think they’re idiots and broke so many rules, they should’ve lost points, but you should know by now that Dumbledore is mad. And a Gryffindor.”

When they get back to the common room, people from all years assure Harry that they don’t believe he killed Quirrell and that they think he deserved 170 points, not those idiot Gryffindors who can’t mind their own business. It’s a good end to a bad night.

Their exam results come in soon after the feast and Draco was right, Harry is third in the class, right behind Granger and Draco. 

Harry, after packing up all his belongings, decides to let Hedwig — that’s what he named his snowy owl — stay at Hogwarts. He might be able to control the Dursleys but he’s not so sure he’d be able to stop them from murdering his owl. Hedwig understands and, after a good preening, sends him off with a few coos and trills that Harry thinks roughly translate into I’ll miss you, have a good summer. He says goodbye to his first years, assures them he’ll still be their Year Ruler come second year, and in the private of their own compartment, exchanges a tearful goodbye with Pansy. Draco, instead, talks cheerfully of how much fun they’ll have when Harry arrives at Malfoy Manor and Pansy declares that she’ll visit as much as her father allows — which is growing slimmer everyday, considering she’s getting older and Draco is a boy. 

Harry steps outside the platform after promising Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to visit and finds the Weasleys on the other side. He looks around for the Dursleys but doesn’t see them so he directs his attention to Granger and Weasley (Ron) and the rest of the red headed family. He’s absolutely shocked when the only girl catches sight of him, brightens, and then marches over to him, leaving behind a very shocked and almost scared looking family. Harry shoves his hands into his pockets and closes his fists around his matchbox sized trunk and his wand.

“Hello,” the girl says, much to all her brothers’ dismay. “My name is Ginny. I wanted to tell you that I don’t believe all the bad things Ron has told me about you.”

Harry blinks, “Oh?”

She nods firmly, “It’s ridiculous. Talking about you killing people and targeting Gryffindors.”

Harry allows himself to smile softly at her, “Well, thank you, Ginny. That means a lot.”

She beams, “You’re welcome. Have a good summer, Harry. I’ll see you at school next year.”

She waves and turns around, walking back over to her family. She glares at her mother as the woman tries to scold her and Harry laughs quietly.

This summer is going to be fun.

Chapter Text

Harry almost jumps out of his skin when he turns around to find Dobby sitting on his bed.

“Christ, Dobby, you startled me,” Harry says. “Are you here to get me? I won’t say no but I expected a letter, at least. Let me just get my things packed. Hey, why hasn’t Draco been sending letters?”

Dobby’s eyes slowly fill with tears and Harry braces himself for the outburst. But it never comes, he just sniffles loudly a few times before saying quietly, “Harry Potter mustn’t return to Hogwarts.”

Harry blinks, slowly closing his trunk and standing up straight, “Dobby… what are you talking about?”

“Harry Potter is in grave danger and he must not return to Hogwarts.”

Harry stares at the elf, “Danger? Dobby, what’s happening?”

Dobby’s face screws up and then he jumps down onto the floor, beginning to bang his head against the bed frame. Harry quickly rushes forward and grabs him, holding him out of reach of any objects, “Dobby! Are you telling me the Malfoys are plotting something?”

There’s no other reason as to why Dobby would feel the need to punish himself. Anything that even hints at badmouthing his family has Dobby hitting himself.

Dobby begins to cry loudly and Harry sighs. Okay, so the Malfoys are planning something.

“Is it Mr. Malfoy? Just nod or shake your head,” Harry says.

Slowly, Dobby nods.

“Why would he want to put me in danger?” Harry asks.

Dobby shakes his head quickly.

“He doesn’t want to put me in danger?”

Dobby nods.

“Then why are you saying I’m in danger, Dobby? I don’t understand.”

Slowly, Dobby begins to speak. 

“Not Harry Potter, sir, not directly. But-but it will hurt Harry Potter, it will.”

“And so, I shouldn’t return to Hogwarts for that reason?” 

Dobby nods.

“Well, Dobby,” Harry takes a deep breath, “I’d love to listen to you, I would, but I don’t trust the Dursleys not to try and kill me in my sleep if I stay longer than I’m supposed to. And if Mr. Malfoy isn’t after me specifically than I don’t see why I can’t spend the rest of summer at the Manor.”

It takes a little bit more convincing but eventually, Dobby understands why Harry needs to return to Hogwarts. He then says that he didn’t have permission to come visit Harry so he can’t bring Harry back with him yet but that he’ll be back soon. 

Harry still packs his things anyway.

A few days later, Draco’s familiar eagle owl finally lands in his bedroom, bringing with him one letter telling Harry Dobby will be over soon to pick him up and also, a stack of letters from both Draco and Pansy. Harry figures out quickly that Dobby had been stopping Draco and Pansy’s letters from reaching him but instead of getting angry when Dobby pops into his bedroom a few hours later, he just tells Dobby to please, never do it again. 

Draco tries to interrogate Harry and find out why he wasn’t responding to his letters but after realizing he’s not getting an answer, he gives up and instead starts telling Harry about how he’s going to get the newest broom and try out for the Quidditch team when school starts back up.

Eventually, they set a date to go get their school supplies.

“That Wednesday? Well, I think that’s as good a day as any but, darling, I won’t be able to come with,” Mrs. Malfoy says. “I’ve got that lunch with my mother.”

Draco and Mr. Malfoy wrinkle their noses the same way and Harry laughs under his breath. 

“Well, I’m sure you don’t want to listen to Draco ramble on about brooms the whole time,” Mr. Malfoy says and Draco makes a noise of protest.

Mrs. Malfoy laughs quietly, “No, I don’t wish to hear it. I’ll be home by the time you get back anyway, and I’m sure Draco does not wish to listen to me talk about my mother.”

Draco nods and then perks up, “Harry — oh, I don’t suppose you’ll want to buy a broom, but you can use one of the spares and we can go out and play a Seeker’s Match!”

“I’ve got horrendous eyesight, Draco,” Harry reminds him.

“So? You spot the Snitch way before the Seekers ever do in the stands,” Draco says. “Honestly, it’s a wonder you don’t want to try out, you’d be spectacular.”

“I’m content being a spectator,” Harry says. “Though, if the option were to arise, I might take up Lee Jordan’s position — they’d do good not to have such a biased commentator. And anyway, I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.”

“Marcus is a Prefect and Quidditch Captain all while being the King,” Draco argues.

“Marcus isn’t hated school wide, at least not as much as I am,” Harry says. “And he’s not a rumored murderer either.”

Draco rolls his eyes, “That’s still the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

In the end, Harry agrees to a Seeker’s Match after Draco gets his new broom.

So, the Wednesday they agreed on rolls around and Mrs. Malfoy kisses each of their cheeks — leaving Harry slightly dazed and happy because only Pansy does that — and leaves to go to lunch with her mother around the same time Mr. Malfoy, Draco, and Harry floo to Diagon Alley. Well, actually, Mr. Malfoy instructs them to say Knockturn Alley but Harry knows that it’s close to Diagon, considering he almost went down it to buy his potion supplies the year before but then thought better of it because of how some of the men loitering around in the alley were looking at him. 

Mr. Malfoy takes them to a shop called Borgin and Burkes and instructs them in a strict, no-bullshit voice to not touch anything. So, naturally, Draco reaches out to touch something as soon as they enter and earns a whack with Mr. Malfoy’s cane that makes Harry snort. 

“Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again,” Mr. Borgin appears after Mr. Malfoy rings the bell on the counter. “Young Master Malfoy and — my, I’ll say, is that Harry Potter?”

Harry tears his eyes away from a shimmering necklace to look at the man, “I do believe your business isn’t with me, Mr. Borgin.”

Mr. Malfoy’s lip tugs up at the corner and Harry smirks before turning around to examine a shelf full of skulls with Draco.

“Yes, yes, of course. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced —”

“I’m not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling,” Mr. Malfoy interrupts.

“Selling?” 

“You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids,” Mr. Malfoy says as Draco nudges Harry’s side and points at a bowl full of eyes and fingers that Harry isn’t sure are fake. “I have a few — ah — items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call…”

“The Ministry wouldn’t presume to trouble you, sir, surely?”

“I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it —”

Harry glares at Draco when he sees Draco smirk and Draco quickly turns his attention to a hand resting on a cushion. 

“— and as you see, these poisons might make it appear —”

“I understand, sir, of course,” Mr. Borgin says. “Let me see…”

“What do you think it does?” Draco murmurs.

“Hold things?” Harry says like it’s obvious and Draco snorts.

“That, boys, is the Hand of Glory,” Mr. Borgin corrects, abandoning Mr. Malfoy’s list to scurry over to them. “Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! You both have fine taste.”

“I hope my sons” — Harry’s eyes widen behind his glasses — “will amount to more than thieves or plunderers, Borgin.”

“No offense, sir, no offense meant —”

“Though if his grades don’t pick up,” Mr. Malfoy says, looking at Draco this time, “that may indeed be all he is fit for —”

“It’s not my fault,” Draco says, his lip curling. “The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger —”

“I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam,” Mr. Malfoy interrupts.

Harry, still recovering from being referred to as Mr. Malfoy’s son, doesn’t catch the glare Draco sends his father but does hear the retort of, “I hardly think it’s got anything to do with her blood status but if you’d prefer me to say so…”

Mr. Malfoy raises an eyebrow but, wisely, decides not to fight with his son in public. He turns back to Mr. Borgin, “Perhaps we can return to my list. I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today —”

They begin to discuss the items on the list and Harry tunes them out, turning to his still fuming best friend. He allows a small, real smile to shine through before he turns sharply on his heel, “Look at this, Dray.”

It’s the necklace he saw before but he’s just noticed that it has a sign saying not to touch it, for it’s cursed. Draco turns and follows his line of sight, humming.

Harry catches sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and turns just in time to see the door of a cabinet move as if somebody just hit it from the inside.

“What do you think that does?” Draco says eagerly, previous anger forgotten. He walks closer and looks down at the sign. “Vanishing Cabinet. Oh, I’ve heard of those, it’s like flooing but illegal and without the fire.”

Harry laughs, “That’s quite different.”

“No, see, you step into one and come out at the connected one,” Draco says, leaning over Harry’s shoulder to look even closer, his hands coming up to steady himself on Harry’s shoulders. “I wonder where this one leads. If it has a connected one — they’re quite rare.”

Harry reaches out to try and open it and hears a small squeak that definitely isn’t a mouse. It sounds like the noise Draco makes when Pansy says something embarrassing. Just as his hand reaches the handle, Mr. Malfoy says, “Done. Come, boys.”

Harry and Draco turn quickly, walking over to Mr. Malfoy’s side. Harry thinks he hears a small sigh of relief from the cabinet and turns to look at it once more as Mr. Malfoy says, “Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I’ll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods.”

They leave without another word and Draco pounces on Harry almost immediately, “You heard that, right?”

Harry nods, “The squeak?”

“The sigh?” 

“What on earth are you talking about?” Mr. Malfoy looks over his shoulder.

“That cabinet — somebody was hiding inside of it,” Draco says. “We heard them.”

Mr. Malfoy raises an eyebrow, “And who could possibly be hiding in a cabinet in Borgin and Burkes?”

“Well, you finished before we could open it,” Draco says. He turns around to try and catch a glimpse of the person leaving but just as the door opens, Mr. Malfoy pulls them into another shop. “Father —”

“I’ve no time for your silly games, Draco, now be quiet,” Mr. Malfoy says sharply. 

Draco huffs, turning to peer through the window. Harry does too. 

Just then, the large, recognizable body of Hagrid passes by and through the door, they hear his shout of, “Ron!”

Harry sighs and Draco groans.

Hagrid passes by again, this time carrying a soot covered Ron.

“Must’ve got out at the wrong grate,” Draco says, his lip curled. “And now he’s going to tell his father that we were selling things… Weasleys.”

Harry rolls his eyes and corrects, “Weasley. We’ve not had a run-in with the rest of his family, don’t push it. Besides, his little sister came up to me at King’s Cross to tell me that she doesn’t believe the things her brother told her about me, so she isn’t bad. Not yet, at least.”

“I despise you,” Draco drawls.

Harry grins, “No, no you don’t.”

After a few more stops, they finally emerge into Diagon Alley. Harry makes a stop at Gringotts and gets a leather bag that he can draw coins from any time he wishes and he briefly wonders why he didn’t get such a thing when he first came to Diagon. He then remembers that his first time at Gringotts was spent with Hagrid and Hagrid did everything for him, including grabbing a package from an otherwise empty vault that Dumbledore apparently needed.

That had been the same day of the Gringotts break-in.

Harry comes to a conclusion as they leave Madam Malkin’s and grasps Draco’s arm.

“What?” Draco looks at him.

“Last year — the Gringotts break-in — Hagrid took something out of a vault that day. I think that’s what Quirrell wanted me for.”

Draco blinks, “What was it?”

“I don’t know, Hagrid was being really shifty about it, but I’ll bet you anything Quirrell needed me so he could find whatever it was. And Weasley and Granger are all buddy-buddy with Hagrid, so they probably got it out of him what was being guarded down there and that’s why they found me.”

Draco ponders on this for a moment before he nods slowly, “I guess. But I don’t think you’ll ever actually know why.”

“No, but it’s nice to have some semblance of closure,” Harry says.

Draco shrugs.

They buy Draco’s new broom next. Mr. Malfoy immediately shrinks it down and puts it into his pocket, pushing them toward the apothecary and promising that Draco will have all the time in the world later to admire it. 

Finally, they stop by Flourish and Blotts to buy their books. However, once they get closer, Harry notices a sign announcing that the same author of almost all of their required books is holding a book signing. Harry and Draco share the same tired look before entering the shop. 

They each grab the only book not written by Gilderoy Lockhart, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2. 

“Honestly, I can’t see how anybody likes him,” Draco mutters into Harry’s ear as they squeeze past crowds of people. “He’s such a fraud, it’s so obvious. I’ve read some of his interviews and not once does he ever actually answer questions about the creatures he’s written books about, all he does is talk about himself.”

“Well, it seems that literally nobody shares your opinion,” Harry says, peering around at all the people. They reach the front of the line — where the crowd is the thinnest — and just as they go to pass by everybody and get to another bookshelf, Harry hears Lockhart say loudly,

“It can’t be Harry Potter!”

Harry glares at Draco when he laughs and even more so when Lockhart seizes Harry’s arm and Draco doubles over. The crowd applauds. Well, except for the Weasleys, who are close to the front and looking like they’re smelling something particularly nasty by the way their faces are twisted up. But Ginny is smiling widely and when Harry catches her eye, she waves once.

“Nice big smile, Harry,” Lockhart tells him as he shakes his hand and a photographer clicks away at his camera madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys. “Together, you and I are worth the front page.”

Harry scowls instead.

When he finally lets go of Harry’s hand, Draco is wiping tears from his face. Lockhart throws an arm around Harry’s shoulder and holds him tightly to his side.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says loudly. “What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time!

“When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge —” The crowd applauds again. “He had no idea,” Lockhart continues, giving Harry a little shake that makes his glasses slip to the end of his nose, much to his dismay, “that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

The crowd cheers and claps as Harry is presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering under their way, Harry stumbles over to Draco and Mr. Malfoy, who is considerably less amused by this than Draco.

“You’re a horrible friend,” Harry says dryly.

Draco wheezes in response. Mr. Malfoy takes the books with a curled lip, examining them before shaking his head and shrinking the whole stack, letting Harry put them into his pocket. Mr. Malfoy whacks the side of Draco’s arm with his cane, “Quit laughing.”

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” 

Harry sighs, turning around with a retort on his tongue but Ginny steps in before he can.

“Leave him alone, Ron,” she snaps. “He didn’t want all that.”

Harry gives Draco a look and Draco rolls his eyes.

“Ron!” Mr. Weasley fights his way over, the twins in tow. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

Mr. Malfoy steps in front of Draco and Harry, “Well, well, well. Arthur Weasley.”

“Lucius,” Mr. Weasley says coldly.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” Mr. Malfoy says. “All those raids… I hope they’re paying you overtime?”

He reaches into Ginny’s cauldron and pulls out a battered copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration. 

“Obviously not,” Mr. Malfoy drawls. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

Draco wrinkles his nose and Harry smirks. He hopes Pansy has remembered Harry’s scoldings as well as Draco has.

Mr. Weasley flushes a dark red that clashes horribly with his hair, “We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy.”

“Clearly,” Mr. Malfoy, looking at what must be Granger’s parents. “The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower —”

Harry and Draco jump back as Mr. Weasley lunges forward, pushing Mr. Malfoy into a bookshelf. Dozens of books come raining down on their heads. The twins yell, “Get him, Dad!” while Mr. Weasley’s wife attempts to get Mr. Weasley to stop. Draco grips Harry’s wrist, looking slightly fearful. A shop assistant tries to break them up but ultimately, it’s Hagrid’s booming voice that does it.

Mr. Malfoy has a blooming black eye as he thrusts Ginny’s book back at her. Ginny attempts to apologize but it falls on deaf ears as Mr. Malfoy grabs Harry and Draco and quickly leaves the shop.

They arrive back at Malfoy Manor only minutes later and immediately, Mrs. Malfoy notices how ruffled her husband is.

“What on earth happened?” she gets very close to him, taking his face in her hands and examining his eye.

“Arthur Weasley,” Mr. Malfoy spits.

Draco bristles, “Gryffindors. Honestly.”

Harry huffs, “They’re all the same. They throw a punch at the first opportunity they get. Ridiculous.”

Mrs. Malfoy’s lip curls, “You fought Arthur Weasley? In public?”

“He attacked me, Narcissa,” Mr. Malfoy says sharply, earning a harsh glare from his wife. “Bloody Gryffindors — don’t know how to take an insult — honestly —”

“Oh, you poor man,” Mrs. Malfoy’s voice drips with sarcasm. “I apologize, boys, you shouldn’t have witnessed that. Come, Lucius.”

She turns on her heel and marches from the room. Mr. Malfoy almost looks like a kicked puppy as he follows.

Draco shakes his head before he turns to Harry, “Father still has my broom in his pocket but we have spares out by our pitch. Up for that Seeker’s Match?”

Harry wins.

Chapter Text

“What’s her name again? I wasn’t listening,” Draco whispers as Ginny walks up to stool.

“Ginny,” Harry says. “She’ll be Gryffindor. But she doesn't hate me like her brother does, so… she’s cool.”

“Right,” Draco nods. 

“SLYTHERIN!”

The silence is deafening. Draco looks at Harry with wide eyes.

Harry begins to clap, seeing as everybody else is in shock, and quickly, the Slytherins join in. The Gryffindors look outraged as Ginny makes her way down to the Slytherin table, a smug look on her face. Harry smirks and nods toward the seat across from him when she catches his eye. She brightens and sits down immediately.

“You looked very smug about that,” Harry says immediately, his interest in the rest of the Sorting gone. He’ll see who the first years are later.

Ginny shrugs easily, “With how my brothers — my parents, too — have been acting recently, I knew I didn’t want to spend seven years with them, as it’ll only get worse with time. I know my family. I thought about Ravenclaw but the hat told me Slytherin was more suited for me, so,” she shrugs again.

Harry grins and looks at Draco, “What did I say?”

“I still despise you,” Draco says before turning his attention to Ginny. “I apologize for my father’s antics. Not with your father — no, that was purely your father’s fault — but with the book.”

Ginny nods in understanding, “It was my dad’s fault, it was him who shoved yours in the first place. And, well… as long as I can still read it.”

“I have all my old books in my trunk,” Harry says, smiling. “You can have them. I don’t need them anymore. Plus, I bought them all new…”

Ginny flushes, “That’s not necessary —”

“I want to give them to you,” Harry says. “I’ve no use for them anyway, and they’re just taking up space. Besides, you can boast about it to your brothers and make them more angry.”

Ginny laughs, “Well, I don’t want them to kill me, so I suppose I’ll only take them for the first reason. Oh… my mother’s probably going to send a howler. I’ve no doubt Percy’s already drafting a letter to send.”

“Don’t worry,” Pansy says. “I’m quite good at Incendio.”

Ginny smiles. 

Later, Harry tells her that he’s the second year Year Ruler and most likely will be for the rest of the year so unless somebody from first year steps up like he did, he’ll technically be her Year Ruler too. Then, he tells he’s proud of her for standing up to her family and that he’s proud of her for recognizing that their beliefs are just as damaging as Mr. Malfoy’s beliefs, even if they seem better. She tells him that she wouldn’t have recognized it if it hadn’t been for Harry and then hugs him. He just smiles and hugs back. 

The next morning, Mrs. Weasley doesn’t send a howler, but her letter has Ginny tearing up at the table and when Harry tries to say something to cheer her up, she stands abruptly and leaves, desperate for nobody to see her cry. Harry can relate and thinks that he, himself, would also flee if he was about to cry in front of a bunch of people, but he also thinks that his reasons for this are much different than Ginny’s.

“Gryffindors,” Draco says. Harry wonders how many times he and Draco will say the word like that in their lives. “Not an ounce of shame.”

Pansy huffs, standing, “I’m going to find her. She doesn’t deserve to be ridiculed by her family.”

Harry’s heart swells with pride as Pansy marches off, glaring at the Gryffindor table until it’s out of her sight. 

He did that. 

OoOo

Before Harry’s first Herbology class, Professor Lockhart sweeps in.

“Harry! I’ve been wanting a word — you don’t mind if he’s a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?”

Judging by Professor Sprout’s scowl, she does mind, and Harry does too, but Lockhart says, “That’s the ticket,” and closes the greenhouse door in her — and Pansy and Draco’s — face.

“Harry,” Lockhart begins shaking his head. ”Harry, Harry, Harry.”

Harry’s lip curls.

“When I heard — well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself.”

Harry has no idea what the man is referring to.

“Don’t know when I’ve been more shocked. Well, of course, I knew at once why you’d done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry, Harry.”

Harry still doesn’t know what this is about.

“Gave you a taste for that power, didn’t I?” Lockhart says. “Gave you the bug . You saw how I handled that crowd and you couldn’t wait to try it yourself.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, “Sir, I’ve no idea what you’re talking —”

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Lockhart interrupts, grasping his shoulders. “ I understand . Natural to want a bit more once you’ve had that first taste — and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head — but see here, young man, you can’t self-proclaim yourself as Year Ruler to try and get that taste. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you’re older. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking! ‘It’s all right for him, he’s an internationally famous wizard already!’ But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I’d say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven’t they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!” he looks at Harry’s lightning scar. “I know, I know, it’s not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have — but it's a start , Harry, it’s a start.”

He gives Harry a wink and then strides away.

Self-proclaim yourself as Year Ruler. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard of something so funny. He almost laughs, too, but then he remembers Draco mentioning that Lockhart was a Ravenclaw. Why was Lockhart involved with Slytherin Politics? He doesn’t seem the type, if Harry’s honest.

He quickly turns, though, and heads inside the greenhouse. He pushes Lockhart’s meaningless ramble aside and focuses on the lesson. He’s determined to surpass Draco this year.

They have Transfiguration next and Harry only succeeds in making three of his beetles into buttons while Draco makes seven buttons. Granger makes eleven and Harry hears about it all throughout lunch, Pansy giggling next to him and Ginny looking amused across from him.

They head out to the courtyard before their afternoon lesson — Defense Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindors — and Draco’s complaining about Granger is cut up but a first year Gryffindor scurrying up to their group. Ginny sighs and opens her mouth to most likely scold the boy but he cuts her off before she can.

“All right, Harry? I’m — I’m Colin Creevey,” he’s breathless as he speaks and Harry forces his lip to remain firmly in place. “D’you think — would it be all right if — can I have a picture?” he raises the Muggle camera in his hands hopefully.

“A picture,” Harry repeats blankly. 

“So I can prove I’ve met you,” Colin says eagerly, taking a step closer to Harry. “‘I know all about you. Everyone’s told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you’ve still got a lightning scar on your forehead” (his eyes rake Harry’s hairline), “and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures’ll move.” He draws in a great, shuddering breath, “It’s brilliant here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. So I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it’d be really good if I had one of you — maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?”

Draco snorts and Pansy laughs in disbelief. They’re amusement dies, however, when they hear, “Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?”

Weasley, Granger, Thomas, and Finnigan are standing behind Colin. Harry allows his lip to curl this time.

“Everyone queue up!” Weasley calls. “Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!” He lowers his voice and says mockingly, “Don’t you want one, Gin?”

Ginny flushes a bright red that doesn’t clash too horribly with her hair but Harry thinks it’d be better if her blood were blue or green. Before Harry can reply, though, Ginny has pulled her wand out and uttered an incantation unknown to Harry but it has Weasley’s eyes widening in fear. Within a second, green colored bats emerge from Weasley’s nose and begin to attack him. He cries out in pain, taking a few steps back to swing wildly at the transfigured bogies. 

“When I told you I learned that, Ronald, I meant it,” Ginny says firmly. “Harry’s not done anything to you to deserve your hatred except tell you he didn’t want you to sit with him and get Sorted into Slytherin — my House, by the way, if you didn’t hear. And to think I used to look up to you… you disgust me.”

Harry shares a look with Pansy and Draco during the shocked silence from everyone, only filled by Ron’s pitiful whimpers. 

Ginny smiles sweetly, then, and stows her wand away in his robes, “Harry doesn’t give autographs, Colin. Though, I think your dad would find any old moving photograph more interesting than Harry in the first place.”

“What’s this about autographs?” 

Harry’s prideful smile vanishes in an instant. Pansy, who Harry is convinced was just swooning for a moment, straightens up and scowls.

“Ah, shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!” Lockhart says once he’s infiltrated the crowd. He ignores the still-in-pain Ron Weasley and instead slings an arm around Harry’s shoulders, “Come on then, Mr. Creevey. A double portrait, can’t say fairer than that, and we’ll both sign it for you.”

Harry scowls as Colin takes the picture.

The bell rings a moment later and Harry tugs himself out of Lockhart’s grip, turning to face the man as everybody scurries off the get to their class, “I don’t know why you know a thing about my social standing and I don’t know why you think it was self-proclaimed, but I can assure you, Professor, I’ve earned every bit of my power. Something I don’t think we have in common.”

He walks past the now stunned Lockhart and his friends follow quickly. 

“Merlin, that gave me a rush,” Ginny shakes her head. “I’ll see you later!” she quickly runs in the opposite direction. 

“Boys… I’m in love,” Pansy says dreamily. Harry and Draco laugh.

“I can’t believe she did that so well,” Draco muses. “She’s not even had a Charms class yet. Or would that be Transfiguration? No matter — she did that. When do you think she practiced?”

“It was recent, considering she warned Weasley that she learned it,” Harry says.

“That’s an advanced hex ,” Pansy says, still sounding dazed. “On her second day, no less. Dear Merlin… here I was thinking she would be annoying…”

Harry and Draco share an amused look.

Lockhart is back to his normal, grinning self in their class and Weasley’s bogies are safely back inside of his nose, though his eyes are a little puffy from crying. 

Lockhart then proceeds to set a bunch of Cornish Pixies on the class after giving them a quiz all about himself. He locks Harry, Pansy, and Draco in the room with Weasley and Granger after everybody else flees, himself included.

The last pixie is dealt with thanks to Harry and a copy of one of Lockhart’s books. It effectively sends the pixie flying into the side of Lockhart’s desk and Harry huffs, shaking his head and looking around for any more.

“What a blithering idiot!” Draco hisses into the now silent room. 

Granger opens her mouth to defend him but Weasley interrupts.

“For once, Mione, he’s right,” Weasley says in a voice that insinuates that the sentence was painful to say. “Lockhart has no clue what he’s doing.”

Granger grumbles under her breath.

Harry brushes what looks like glitter off his book before shoving it into his book bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Draco says miserably, picking up his now battered and destroyed quill set. It had been very expensive and Mr. Malfoy almost didn’t allow Draco to keep it after his comment in Borgin and Burkes. He warned that if anything were to happen to it, Draco would have to survive off of Harry’s quills for the rest of the year because he wouldn’t be getting another set — not even a set of cheap, used ones.

Harry grimaces, “Can’t we repair it?”

“Father placed a charm… he’ll be sending a letter,” Draco mumbles. “Bloody Lockhart. How is he even a professor?”

“Honestly, Malfoy, could you be more modest?” Granger snaps. “I’m so sorry you’re precious quill set got destroyed, would you like me to buy you another?” 

Draco scowls, “Honestly, Granger, could you be more nosy? I wasn’t talking to you. You’re just asking for a fight at this point. Gryffindors.”

Pansy furrows her eyebrows, “Wait, huh? What’s the deal with the quills?”

Draco sighs, “I’m not telling you in front of them.”

Weasley narrows his eyes and Harry can hear gears turning in his head before he comes to the surprisingly correct conclusion of, “You got in trouble for your comment about Hermione, didn’t you?”

He sounds very amused and smug by this.

“I hardly think you’re in any position to laugh, Weasley, seeing as you were so cowardly hiding inside a cabinet,” Harry says easily. “I thought you were a Pureblood, yet… you don’t know how to floo properly? Even I knew how to do it and I didn’t even know it was a thing until last Yule break.”

“He called you his son,” Weasley says instead of replying to that. 

Harry bristles and Draco frowns deeply. 

“And what’s it to you, Weasley?” Harry snaps. “Mr. Malfoy can call me as he so pleases — and if he thinks of me as his son, I’m not going to stop him. I apologize for not coming from a good home life like you seem to have.”

Weasley blinks, anger momentarily forgotten, “What?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Harry drawls, using the confusion to his advantage. “Of course you didn’t, nobody ever asks famous Harry Potter about what life with the muggles was really like. Have you ever wondered what it feels like to get hit on the head with a frying pan, Weasley? I can assure you, it hurts a lot more than a Bat-Bogey Hex does.”

Weasley is completely stunned by this while Granger looks horrified.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Harry tilts his head. “No matter. Come along, now, I’m sure Ginny’s wondering where we are.”

They get about halfway down the corridor before Pansy and Draco pounce.

“A frying pan?”

“He called you his son?”

“What happened with your relatives, Harry?”

“Yeah, Harry, what happened?”

Harry silences them with a raised hand before he answers each question easily, “Yes, a frying pan. He called me his son when Mr. Borgin told us about the Hand of Glory. As for my relatives… I dealt with them for nine years before I decided to use my magic to get my way. Simple as that.”

“You’re insane,” Draco says but instead of the scared, venomous tone he first said it in, his tone is now reverent and delighted. 

Harry grins toothily, just as he did the first time Draco said it, and says, “I suppose I am. Just a little bit.”

Chapter Text

“Harry!”

Harry groans and shoves Draco away from him. 

Draco laughs, “Harry, c’mon, it’s my first Quidditch practice today, come watch me. Pansy and Ginny are coming too.”

Harry groans again, pulling his blankets over his head.

“Come on,” Draco shakes his shoulder roughly.

“Fine,” Harry pushes Draco away again before throwing his blankets off of him and standing up.

“Get dressed, come on!”

Harry does, making sure he looks as prim and proper as ever before he pulls his jumper on over his shirt and tie. 

Draco runs ahead of them when they all exit the common room, clearly excited. 

“Here you go,” Ginny hands Harry some toast with marmalade on it.

“Ta,” Harry nods his head at her and takes a bite. 

“He’s adorable, isn’t he?” Pansy says.

Harry hums, “More annoying than anything.”

But Harry definitely agrees with Pansy. Plus, Draco looks unusually handsome in his Quidditch robes… 

Harry shakes his head at his own thoughts.

When they reach the pitch, they’re just about to head up to the stands when they see that the Gryffindor team is already practicing. The three of them share a look before following Draco onto the field. 

“Flint!” the captain of Gryffindor is shouting already. “This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!” 

Marcus gestures around the field, “Plenty of room for all of us, Wood.”

“But I booked the field!” Wood says, sounding almost like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “I booked it!”

“Ah,” Marcus says. “But I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. ‘I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.’” 

“You’ve got a new Seeker?” Wood says, immediately distracted. “Where?” 

“Oh,” Harry mutters as everybody parts to reveal Draco. “They planned this to taunt the Gryffindors.”

“Why else?” Ginny shakes her head. 

“And he was so excited,” Pansy frowns. “Or do you think he knew?”

“He’s smirking, there’s no way he didn’t,” Harry rolls his eyes. “Idiot. I’m taking away his Right-Hand privileges for a week.”

“You’re going to ground him?” Pansy says, amused.

“Yes! This is why we get into fights with Gryffindors,” Harry says. “We just need to stop taunting them, otherwise you’ll just get punched every other day.”

“Well, that’s true,” Pansy says. “Let him learn his lesson.”

“He learns his lesson by getting grounded,” Harry says.

“What’s happening?” Weasley and Granger are here now, asking the new Gryffindor Seeker, Dean Thomas, what’s happening. “Why aren’t you playing? And what’s he doing here?”

“I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,” Draco says smugly. “Everyone’s just been admiring the brooms my father’s bought our team.”

Harry scoffs quietly, “Two weeks.”

Pansy snorts with laughter, hiding her face in Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny grins.

“Well, at least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” Granger says. “They got in on pure talent.” 

“Well, the brooms were part of it but he did do good at tryouts,” Harry mutters.

“Nobody asked for your opinion, Granger,” Draco sneers.

“Okay,” Harry nods his approval at the use of Granger’s last name and not a slur. “One and a half.”

Pansy’s laughter is no longer silent but she’s desperately trying to keep quiet. Ginny has started laughing with her.

“Can you even fly, Malfoy?” Thomas raises an eyebrow. “Or did you really buy your way in?”

“Better than you can, Thomas,” Draco says.

“Is that a challenge?”

Harry sees Draco glance at Marcus and then he says, “Is it?”

“Two and a half,” Harry says.

Pansy’s laugh finally gets loud enough to draw attention. Harry coughs to cover up his own laughter when all heads turn to them. Ginny looks to the side, her shoulders shaking.

“And what’s so funny, Parkinson?” Granger crosses her arms.

Pansy takes a deep breath, “I’m not laughing at you, Granger, don’t get a big head.”

“Are you guys ever gonna actually play Quidditch?” Harry says. “The field is big enough for both of you. Or, y’know, you could just practice tomorrow.”

“I booked the field for today,” Wood growls.

“And Professor Snape gave them permission, which definitely outranks just booking the field,” Harry says. “Go get permission from Professor McGonagall if it really means that much to you. It really isn’t that hard. Just… use your brain. If you have one…”

“Hypocrite,” Pansy punches his shoulder.

“Harry's right,” Marcus says. “Professor Snape’s permission outranks booking the field. Professor McGonagall’s permission would outrank Professor Snape’s because she’s Deputy Headmistress. But she’s a fair woman and she wouldn’t give you permission today. Just come tomorrow, Wood. It… really isn’t hard.”

Harry blinks. A few of the other Slytherins shoot him a slightly jealous glance at having such approval from the King and he fights a grin.

“Fine,” Wood grits. “We’ll practice tomorrow.”

Later, when Draco hears that his Right-Hand privileges are revoked for two and a half weeks, the pillow that is thrown at Harry’s face earns him three weeks.

OoOo

“Come… come to me… Let me rip you… Let me tear you… Let me kill you…” 

Harry shoots up in bed, his book falling into his lap and closing. He looks around wildly.

“Alright, mate?” Theo asks.

“You didn’t hear that?” Harry says.

“Hear what?” 

“It was a voice,” Harry says, looking at the walls with furrowed eyebrows. “You really didn’t hear that?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Blaise says.

Harry sighs, shaking his head and picking his book up, “Lost my place…”

“You okay, Harry?” Draco says.

“Fine,” Harry mutters, laying back down. “Forget about it.”

OoOo

Before Harry knows it, Halloween has arrived. He hasn’t heard that voice since and he’s quite happy about it. 

During the Halloween feast, Ginny is nowhere to be found.

“Where is she?” Harry asks Pansy.

“She said she wasn’t feeling well,” Pansy says. “I told her I’d bring her some food.”

“Is she sick?” Draco says.

“I don’t know,” Pansy says. “She just said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Huh,” Harry mutters.

Just as dessert is finishing, Harry hears it again.

“…rip…tear…kill…”

He drops his fork. Draco and Pansy look at him. There’s a long pause.

“…soo hungry…for so long…” The voice is faint but still there. 

“Harry?” Draco says.

“…kill…time to kill…” It sounds like it’s moving upward. Harry, seeing that people are beginning to leave, jumps up and starts walking. Draco and Pansy are quick to follow.

As they climb the stairs, Harry strains his ears to try and hear the voice again. Pansy and Draco are very obviously worried but don’t try to say anything else.

Just as they reach the top of the stairs, he hears it, very distantly.

“…I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!” 

He jumps at the anger in the voice, prompting Pansy and Draco to jump as well. He speeds up slightly and is at the front of the crowd when they emerge onto the second floor and see it.

Mrs. Norris hanging by her tail on a torch bracket. Standing right under her, Granger, Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas. 

“Enemies of the Heir, beware,” Draco mutters, his voice deafening in the sudden silence.

Harry toys with the bracelet around his wrist, frowning deeply. Whatever that voice is that he’s hearing must’ve done this…

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” Filch pushes his way through the crowd. When his eyes land on his cat, he stumbles back, clutching his face in horror. “My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” 

Harry shares a look with Draco and Pansy. 

“You!” Filch suddenly screeches, pointing at Thomas. “You! You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll —” 

“Argus!” Dumbledore has arrived now, followed by a number of teachers. He sweeps past everybody and carefully takes Mrs. Norris off the torch bracket. “Come with me, Argus,” he says quietly. “You, too, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Finnigan, Miss Granger.” 

His eyes suddenly land on Harry and Harry’s own eyes widen. He scrambles to hide behind Draco but Dumbledore is already saying, “And you as well, Mr. Potter.”

“Dammit,” Harry hisses. He takes his anger out on Draco’s shoulder.

“Ouch,” Draco punches Harry’s arm back. “Just go.”

Harry glares at Draco as he passes him to follow Dumbledore.

They enter Lockhart’s office and Dumbledore lays Mrs. Norris on his desk as Lockhart lights candles.

Harry stands by the door while the other four share a tense look and sink into chairs.

Dumbledore examines Mrs. Norris for a long time while Lockhart rambles on about what might be wrong with her and Filch sobs off to the side.

At last, he straightens up.

“She’s not dead, Argus,” he says softly, shutting Lockhart up.

“Not dead?” Filch chokes, looking through his fingers at his cat. “But why’s she all — all stiff and frozen?” 

“She has been Petrified,” Dumbledore says. “But how, I cannot say…” 

“Ask him!” Filch shrieks, pointing at Thomas. 

Harry thinks that Dumbledore might actually know what caused this and is just lying. 

“No second year could have done this,” Dumbledore says. “It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced —” 

“He did it, he did it!” Filch insists. “You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found — in my office — he knows I’m a — I’m a — He knows I’m a Squib!” 

Harry chokes and looks to the side, coughing quietly. 

“I never touched Mrs. Norris!” Thomas says loudly. “And I don’t even know what a Squib is.” 

“Rubbish!” Filch snarls. “He saw my Kwikspell letter!” 

Harry shoves his face inside his robes, trying to control his breathing. He hadn’t expected that. 

“If I might speak, Headmaster,” Snape suddenly says from the shadows. Harry looks at him. “Thomas and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time… But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn’t he at the Halloween feast?” 

The four of them launch into an explanation, something about Nearly Headless Nick’s deathday party. Harry thinks he heard the Baron talking about that with the Friar not long ago.

“…there were hundreds of ghosts, they’ll tell you we were there —” 

“But why not join the feast afterward?” Snape says, interrupting Thomas. “Why go up to that corridor?” 

Thomas mouths wordlessly for a moment before he says, “We were tired… we wanted to go to bed…”

“Without any supper?” Snape says, smiling triumphantly. “I didn’t think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties.” 

“We weren’t hungry,” Weasley says loudly, his stomach rumbling even louder.

“I suggest, Headmaster, that Thomas is not being entirely truthful,” Snape says.

There’s a long silence.

“Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,” Dumbledore says firmly.

Snape looks furious. So does Filch.

“My cat has been Petrified!” he shrieks. “I want to see some punishment!” 

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” Dumbledore says patiently. “Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris.” 

“I’ll make it,” Lockhart butts in. “I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep —” 

“Excuse me,” Snape says coldly. “But I believe I am the Potions master at this school.” 

There’s a very awkward pause.

“If I might ask,” Harry finally speaks up, “why am I here?”

Dumbledore looks at him as if he just remembered that he asked Harry to tag along. 

“Do you… have any input, Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore says.

Harry’s eyebrows shoots up, “Input? I got there with everyone else, I don’t know what happened. Is there something you want me to say?”

“Where was my sister?” Weasley suddenly says.

Harry looks at him incredulously. “You are not seriously accusing Ginny of petrifying that cat, are you? She didn’t feel well tonight, if you even care anymore.”

“Why didn’t she take some Pepper Up?” Weasley says.

“Because not feeling well doesn’t always mean you’re sick, Weasley,” Harry says. “Jesus Christ, she’s your sister, show a little humility.”

He suddenly thinks about what the common room must look like right now and feel a wave of panic wash over him. They’re all most definitely panicking and all he can hope for right now is that the third year Year Ruler steps in to calm his second and first years down, because he knows Draco and Pansy would be rubbish at it if they tried.

“I don’t have any input,” Harry says. “I didn’t see anything, I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t do anything. Can I leave?”

Dumbledore stares at him for a long moment before nodding slowly.

“Thank you,” Harry mumbles, turning around and leaving, quickly heading to his common room.

Sure enough, everybody is panicking when he finally reaches it. After quick reassurances to his friends that he’s not in trouble, he stands up on a chair and begins to calm his second and first years down. 

Somehow, he finds himself talking to the entire common room and he doesn’t even notice until he catches Marcus' eye and Marcus smiles proudly.

Later, he manages to tell Pansy, Draco, and Ginny about the voice he’s been hearing and, after looking at him with increasing concern for a long time, they tell him that he should keep them updated if he hears it again. After that, he sends Ginny and Pansy to bed and then heads up to bed himself with Draco following behind.

Chapter Text

“C’mon, Ginny, cheer up,” Pansy says softly, handing her a piece of toast. She takes a bite of it, still frowning, her eyes following Draco up in the air. “Really, Mrs. Norris will be fine. Professor Snape will make the Mandrake Draught and she’ll be good as new.”

Ginny hums quite disbelievingly. 

Pansy and Harry share a look and a simultaneous sigh before looking up at Draco and following his movements like her.

OoOo

The story of Salazar Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets makes it around the school. Everybody has started avoiding the Slytherins and if they hadn’t already been doing that before, Harry might be a little annoyed.

Draco ends up catching the Snitch in the first game of the season. This succeeds in properly cheering Ginny up. When he enters the common room for the after party, she attacks him with a hug and he’s too happy about her newly improved mood to even care about how it makes him look when he hugs her back just as enthusiastically.

But just as quickly as her mood brightens, it drops again with the announcements of a second petrification, this time on Colin Creevey, the first year who wanted a picture with Harry.

An underground trade of protective items begins to circle around the school. Harry hears that Neville has bought about five different things and his blood status doesn’t even comfort him because he thinks of himself as almost a Squib. It’s almost enough to make Harry want to march over to the boy and become his friend. 

December brings even worse news.

It’s breakfast and Professor McGonagall is at the Gryffindor table gathering names for who wants to stay for Yule. The mail arrives and Draco’s owl lands on the table, holding a letter from Mrs. Malfoy.

Draco quickly unseals it and pulls the parchment out. Harry watches as his face slowly falls the farther he reads. Finally, he folds it carefully and says quietly, “Tell her I’m staying for Yule.”

He leaves the letter behind and stands up, quickly leaving the Great Hall.

Pansy, Harry, and Ginny share a look before scrambling to grab the letter. Harry gets it before the other two and unfolds it, reading it.

When he gets to the end, he sighs quietly. 

“What happened?” Pansy says.

“His grandfather,” Harry says softly.

Pansy gasps quietly.

Ginny frowns and then says slowly, “On his mother or father’s side?”

“I think his dad’s,” Harry says. 

“It would be,” Pansy says. “Mrs. Malfoy wouldn’t have sent the letter if it was her father.”

“I’m staying too,” Harry stands up. “Mark us both down when she comes by.”

“I am too,” Ginny tells him. “I don’t think I want to go home right now. Pansy?”

“I… can,” Pansy nods. “I think I want to be here for Draco. I’ll owl my parents later, they’ll understand.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “I’m gonna go find him.”

He glances at the Gryffindor table as he leaves and catches Weasley’s eye. He notices, then, that him, Granger, Thomas, and Finnigan are looking at him suspiciously. He glares at them until they’re out of sight.

OoOo

Draco, by their next Potions lesson, is downplaying his feelings and refuses to accept any comfort. Just to make sure Harry doesn’t try anything, he makes Snape let him partner with Gregory. Harry is now partnering with Pansy and both of them, throughout the class, share exasperated looks every so often.

Pansy is telling Harry that he needs to stir just a bit longer when Gregory’s cauldron explodes. He ducks and manages not to get hit but Pansy gets hit straight on the nose with some of the Swelling Potion. She lets out a string of curses as her nose begins to blow up and weight her face down.

“Silence! SILENCE!” Snape roars, effectively shutting up all the panicking students. “Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught — when I find out who did this —”

Pansy, Draco, Gregory and everybody else who got hit clambers up to his desk. Harry looks around the class and catches Weasley sharing a laugh with Finnigan and Thomas. Granger is nowhere to be found. He furrows his eyebrows.

He’s distracted by Pansy walking back over, her nose back to normal. She’s scowling and as soon as Harry is in hearing range, she begins ranting. Harry listens, like the good friend he is, until Snape swoops over to Gregory’s cauldron and picks up the charred remains of a firework.

“If I ever find out who threw this,” he whispers into the sudden hush, “I shall make sure that person is expelled.” 

Harry looks back at Weasley and sees him school his expression into something puzzled.

“It was Weasley,” Harry declares as they leave the dungeons. “Him and Granger, they’re up to something. Probably Finnigan and Thomas too.”

“Well, you can’t prove it,” Draco grumbles.

“I can’t, but I know it was him,” Harry says. “It had to have been.”

OoOo

“Flitwick better be teaching this,” Harry mumbles. “I swear to god if it’s —”

Before he can even finish that sentence, Lockhart walks onto the stage, Snape behind him and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Of course,” Harry says. “Because why wouldn’t he be teaching this?”

Draco snickers quietly.

When Snape sends Lockhart flying off the stage, Harry is among the group of people cheering for Snape. 

Harry, fortunately, gets partnered with Draco. Pansy, unfortunately, gets partnered with Granger.

When Lockhart gives the go, Harry shoots a Tickling Charm at Draco, grinning when the boy doubles over, wheezing. Draco, taking advantage of Harry playing fair and not wanting to hit him while he’s down, shoots a Dancing Feet Spell at him. Snape casts a loud Finite Incantatem that stops the effects of all spells used, including Draco and Harry’s.

“I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” Lockhart says, looking quite flustered. “Let’s have a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you —” 

“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” Snape says. “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” 

Harry frowns slightly. Snape isn’t necessarily wrong but he’s not helping Neville at all by pointing it out. It’d be better to actually help the boy improve instead of just ridiculing him…

“How about Malfoy and Weasley?” Snape says. Draco chokes.

“Excellent idea!” Lockhart chirps.

“Not excellent — Merlin’s fucking balls,” Draco says under his breath, quickly climbing onto the stage. Harry shares an amused look with Pansy. 

Harry sees Snape whisper something in Draco’s ear. Draco’s previous grievances disappear and he smirks.

“Oh, god, what is he doing?” Harry says.

“You should ground him again if he does something stupid,” Pansy says.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

“Three — two — one — go!” 

“Serpensortia!” 

A long, black snake bursts out of the end of Draco’s wand.

Harry blinks.

“Yes,” Pansy whispers, very excited to see her best friend get grounded.

“Don’t move, Weasley, I’ll get rid of it,” Snape says lazily.

“Allow me!” Lockhart shouts.

Instead of doing that, he makes the snake fly ten feet into the air. It lands directly in front of Harry.

Harry jumps back as the snake raises itself up and exposes it fangs. 

He doesn’t know what makes him do it, but something in his tells him to tell the snake to stop, so he does. And automatically, he knows what he just said wasn’t English. His eyes widen and his mouth stays open. Snape steps forward and vanishes the snake with a simple wave of his wand. Harry slowly closes his mouth and looks at Draco, ignoring the looks of horror most everyone is giving him.

“Four weeks,” he says simply.

Draco nods meekly, not even trying to fight.

With that, Harry turns around and walks away. Pansy and Draco are quick to follow.

Chapter Text

Harry listens to Pansy and Draco explain to him what a Parseltongue is but he doesn’t say anything. After they finish their explanation, he just nods and then changes the subject. They let him, most likely seeing how much he clearly doesn’t want to think about being a Parseltongue.

The news about Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick spreads quickly the next day. People are now suspecting that Harry is the Heir of Slytherin and really, there’s nothing he can say to convince them that he isn’t other than just saying that he’s not. He's a Slytherin, he speaks Parseltongue, all of his friends are purebloods…

Getting called to Dumbledore’s office is shocking, though.

But, after telling him that he doesn’t think Harry is responsible for everything, he just asks him if there’s anything he wants to tell him. Harry thinks about the voice he heard before Mrs. Norris was found and then thinks about asking him why he can speak Parseltongue, but in the end, he just settles for saying a simple no. 

Because of the double attack, a lot of people begin signing up to go home for Yule, but Pansy, Draco, and Ginny are staying. Ginny’s ever worsening mood doesn’t seem to ever be going back to normal and at this point, Harry is getting really worried. Between that and the constant reassurances he has to do for his second and first years and then the Heir of Slytherin thing, Harry is beginning to get overwhelmed and he’s definitely glad for the coming Yule break.

When, at last, the term ends, it’s like a breath of fresh air. 

Yule arrives and Draco, a little depressed because of the reason he’s not home at the moment, and Harry are woken up early but an overexcited Pansy and an unenthusiastic Ginny. 

“Pansy, this is the boys dorm,” Harry says, pushing her hands away and sitting up.

“Oh, shut up,” she says. “Happy Yule!”

Harry hums.

Harry opens his presents from his friends quickly and happily.

Pansy managed to steal the bracelet she gave him last Yule back from him and etch something else on it. The word Gryffindors is written next to the words I like you, Harry Potter and Harry laughs. He can hear the word. Draco’s present is a photo album apparently from Hagrid, but it has pictures of them in it after the ones of Harry’s parents and their friends. Harry gives him a slightly tearful smile and a hug. Ginny’s present is some sweets, which Harry gladly accepts and begins to eat to show her that he likes her present. 

Yule dinner is as magnificent as Harry remembers. Draco is happier than he was in the morning and even Ginny is letting herself be happy and forget about the attacks. Harry is quite glad about both of their moods.

Somehow, Harry finds himself alone and looking for his friends. He really doesn't know how.

He walks around the corner near the common room and finds the three of them talking to Percy Weasley, all looking quite miffed to be doing so.

“There you are,” he says. “Where did you go? I’ve been looking all over for you. No matter — c’mon. We’ll leave you be, Weasley.”

Percy watches them for a moment before continuing to walk, shaking his head. Harry stops in front of the entrance to the common room.

“I think we changed it recently, what was it? Oh, right — argent.”

The entrance appears and Harry quickly enters and heads into the common room. 

Harry sees Marcus talking to Adrian and suddenly remembers a rumor he heard. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, “do you know if it’s true that Graham is thinking about challenging Marcus?” 

“Er —” Draco starts. “I don’t know.”

“Shame,” Harry says. “I bet that would be fun to watch. Anyway — there’s something I need to go get, sit right there.”

The three of them listen and Harry quickly heads up to his dorm, grabbing the extra present he bought for Draco. He makes his way back over to where his friends are sitting and plops down on the couch next to Pansy, holding the present out.

“I thought this might cheer you up a bit,” Harry grins. “Go on — open it.”

Draco takes it slowly and unwraps it cautiously. The brand new quill set gleams proudly in his hands and he’s not nearly as happy as Harry imagined he would be. 

“Do you like it?” he says. “They’re all self-inking — I figured it would last you for a long time and this way, you won’t have to ask your dad to buy you more. I know he said that you’ll have to survive off my quills if you broke that set but he never said I couldn’t buy you a new set, just that he wouldn’t buy you more.”

Draco nods, “Yeah. It’s great, thanks.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

“Right,” Harry says slowly. “Well — what was Weasley doing down here? I know he’s a Prefect but… there are Slytherin Prefects.”

“Didn’t say,” Ginny shrugs. “Probably thinks he’s going to catch Slytherin’s Heir all by himself.”

Harry snorts, “As if. I have a feeling this heir wouldn’t be opposed to attacking purebloods too if need be. Which isn’t something I should say right now, I’m sorry, Ginny.”

He, Draco, and Pansy have been trying not to talk about the attacks around her because they know it upsets her. Which is why Pansy asking, “Do you have any idea who might be behind it?” is so strange.

Harry shifts uncomfortably, glancing at Ginny, “No. Why would I? I only know that it has to be that voice I’ve been hearing in the walls, but I don’t know if the voice is a human or not. Besides, if I did, I would’ve already said something in the two times Dumbledore has asked me. Y’know, I think he believes that it’s me! Why else would he have called me to his office? He asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell him. I’ll bet he knows about the voice and he wants me to tell him about it. I’ll also bet that he knows something and he’s not telling anybody. Just like last year!” Harry suddenly perks up, “I didn’t tell you about what I figured out. Or — the thing that might be the situation that I figured out. Anyway — I’m pretty sure Dumbledore planned everything, but I ruined it by going to Slytherin. Like, I think he planned for me to be all buddy-buddy with Hagrid and like, actually want to go exploring the third floor corridor. And don't get me wrong, Hagrid’s cool, he bought me Hedwig and made that photo album and that was pretty awesome of him, but I’m fine with just you three being my friends. 

“And you don’t know what happened down there last year, Ginny,” Harry says. “You just know what your brother told you, which was wrong, but you know that. And I guess I don’t really know what happened either, because I was passed out. But I’m pretty sure Granger and Weasley figured out why Quirrell wanted me down there in the first place and were planning on going to save the day, which I guess they did, as well as starting a rumor that I killed Quirrell, which obviously, I didn’t. I think it was pretty obvious that I had done literally nothing down there but apparently, telling somebody you don’t want them to sit with you is reason enough to spread a rumor that they are a murderer. Which I was pretty rude when I told him to go away but… I still don’t understand where the hatred came from.”

The three stare blankly at him.

“Seriously, what is the matter with you three?” Harry says.

He doesn’t get a straight answer and just as he’s about to try and ask again, Ginny suddenly gives a great startle. That prompts the other two to jump as well and, before Harry can even register it, they’re gone. 

He sits there, stunned, for a long moment, until somebody gets his attention and tells him his friends were found locked in a closet.

And then he realizes what just happened.

And his friends completely forgo complaining to ask him what’s wrong. He explains and gets the same horror he’s feeling thrown back at him by them. 

And to think he almost told them about the panic attack…

Chapter Text

Harry knows for certain that Weasley and Granger were part of the group of imposters, but he’s not sure if it was Finnigan or Thomas who played the third one. All of this doesn’t matter, though, because he doesn’t have proof. Sure, he can say that his friends were drugged and locked in a closet but there’s no way to prove that Granger, Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas are to blame for it.

When Valentine’s Day rolls around, Lockhart seems to have taken boosting morale into his own hands but hiring dwarves to play cupids and sing valentines to students.

Harry doesn’t get a single one and he is very, very thankful for it. However, he’s in the vicinity when Dean Thomas receives one. Thomas puts up a great fight, his bag ripping in the process, before the dwarf finally begins to sing. But Harry is focused on something else. A small, black book laying on the ground, seemingly untouched by the ink that covers everything else. That book and the reaction Ginny is having to it. Her eyes are wide and trained solely on the book as if it’s about to sprout legs and run away. She looks terrified.

When Harry asks her if she’s okay, she quickly brushes him off and heads to class. 

Continuously, Harry brings the book up, and continuously, she brushes him off. It makes him more determined. He could deal with the worsening mood because of the attacks but acting suspicious over a book? He needs answers.

He gets his answer when he finds Ginny standing in the corridor outside the common room with the book in her hand, only a day after the attack on Granger and Penelope Clearwater. He doesn’t even stop to ask how she managed to get it from Thomas.

“Ginny!” he barks.

She looks at him, terror in her face, and tries to run, but Harry is faster and when he reaches her, he grabs her around the middle and tugs her close to him. She lets out a sob and goes limp in his arms.

“What’s going on?” he asks softly. “What’s the deal with the book? Why have you really been so affected by the attacks?”

It takes a bit of coaxing, but eventually, she confesses.

“It’s me!” she cries. “I’m doing it! I opened the Chamber!”

Harry tenses.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I didn’t know, I didn’t know I was doing it, not until — not until after Justin and Nick!”

“Ginny,” he says quietly.

“I’m going to be expelled — Mum and Dad are gonna be so mad at me — I’m sorry —”

“Ginny!”

She falls silent.

“It’s okay,” he says. “No — shh — it is. You wouldn’t have done this on purpose. I know you wouldn’t have. Just — explain how.”

“It writes back,” she says. “Tom Riddle. I don’t remember how I did it, I just — I knew the diary was doing it.”

Harry sighs quietly and lets go of Ginny, taking a step back. 

She turns around quickly, tears streaming down her face, but she looks determined. 

“You can’t tell anybody,” she says. “Please, Harry, don’t tell anybody.”

“Give me the diary, Ginny.”

“No.”

“Ginny. Give me — the diary.”

“No,” she takes a few steps back. “Harry, no.”

“I’m not going to tell anybody!” he says. “Just — give it to me.”

Another few steps, “I won’t.”

“Ginny…”

She turns and begins running. Harry follows her. 

He catches up to her at the top of a staircase before he stumbles. He reaches out and takes them both to the ground. He quickly crawls on top of her and begins trying to get the diary out of her hands while she struggles to get out from under him and run away.

“Give it to me!”

“No! I won’t! Let go of me, Harry!” she screams.

“Give me the diary!” he shouts back.

She begins thrashing and writhing around, trying to throw him off of her. He manages to wrap his hands around the top of the diary and this is when she begins chanting, “No, no, no, no,” over and over.

“What are the fuck are you doing to her, Potter?” the familiar, and unwelcome, voice of Ron Weasley shouts. 

Ginny freezes. Harry pries the diary out of her hands and stands up, stumbling back and breathing heavily.

“No! Harry, stop it!” she stands up and throws herself at him, scrambling to grab it back.

“Why?” he says incredulously. “Why can’t I keep it?”

“It’s — mine!” 

“And that’s a good reason? Weren’t you just telling me —”

“Shut up!” she punches his chest and he inhales sharply. “Shut up, shut up, shut — UP!”

Harry looks at Weasley and scowls when he sees him, Thomas, and Finnigan watching them in increasing horror. “Go away. This isn’t your business.”

“She’s my bloody sister —”

“Oh, don’t act like you care of the sudden!” Harry snaps. “If you did, you would’ve tried to help sooner. Go away.”

“Harry, please,” Ginny sobs.

Harry looks at her, softening instantly. “I won’t. I don’t want you to get hurt, Ginny.”

“I’m not going to get hurt!” she switches back to anger quickly. 

“Don’t give me that,” Harry says. “You haven’t seen yourself lately. Getting hurt isn’t all about just injuring yourself.”

“And what do you plan to do with it?” she growls.

“Keep it away from you.”

She flinches and takes a step back. Harry sees the moment that her actions finally register in her mind. She folds in on herself and looks away. 

Harry looks back at the group still watching them. 

“Y’know, you didn’t seem so worried when you drugged her and locked her in a closet,” Harry says.

He knows he’s hit the jackpot when Weasley and Thomas share a panicked look.

“Just fuck off,” Harry says. He grabs Ginny’s wrist and drags her back down the stairs and to the common room.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says quietly.

“I know you are. Just let me keep the diary, Ginny.”

“O… okay. Okay.”

Harry nods, “Okay.”

OoOo

Harry doesn’t know what makes him do it. It’s like the diary was calling out to him, coaxing him to open it and write in it. Maybe it was Hagrid and Dumbledore leaving — maybe it was his increasing curiosity about the voice in the walls — but near the end of the term, he opens the diary and writes in it. And he talks to Tom Riddle.

He tells himself it’s only the one time, but the next day, he finds himself writing in the diary again. And then the next day. 

It’s the fourth day of this cycle when something happens and really, he should’ve expected this.

One minute, he's talking to Tom, and the next, he’s waking up in a dark chamber he doesn’t ever remember entering.

“Potter,” he hears the breath of relief. “Merlin…”

Harry coughs, “Weasley? What’s going on? Where are we?”

He notes that Weasley is covered in blood and… ink and looking quite horrible. He looks behind him and his eyes widen at the sight of a giant, dead snake laying nearby.

“The Chamber of Secrets,” Weasley says. “I… we figured it out, everything that was going on, and when I heard you were taken down here, I… I knew I couldn’t just leave you, not when I knew how to save you.”

Harry coughs again, “You saved my life?”

“Just about,” Weasley nods. “Killed a giant snake. I really didn’t think this is where this year would go but here we are. And I suppose we were right about one of your four opening the Chamber, we just got the person wrong.”

“Still have to be dick, even after all that?” Harry flops back down onto his back. “God, she’s going to be so mad at me.”

“Still no thank you, even after all that?”

“Well, I personally don’t think you deserve one, after everything you’ve done to me. Really, Weasley, saving my life won’t make up for all that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You — you illegally made a Polyjuice Potion! And you snuck into the Slytherin Common Room and sat there while I ranted to you about things that don’t bloody concern you. I didn’t ask you to save my life, anyway. It’s going to take a lot more than that for me to just forgive you and for us to be friends. Look, just — can we get out of here? You… need a shower.”

Harry decides not to ask why Lockhart doesn’t have his memories anymore. 

After a long talk with Dumbledore, — in which Harry learns that there is a piece of Voldemort inside of him and that Dumbledore is a sadistic bastard, if the constant my boy ’s are anything to go by — he makes his way back to the Slytherin Common Room to take a shower and try to collect his thoughts.

He’s left alone to do just that for only two hours, before his friends have had enough and burst into the dorm. Ginny is immediately on him, lecturing him like she was born to do it, while Pansy and Draco watch in amusement.

Harry deals with Ginny’s anger for the rest of the term and he feels like he deserves it. 

All too soon, Harry finds himself packing his things away and getting on the train. He exchanges tearful goodbyes with Ginny and Pansy, promises to come stay with Draco at some point, and then heads off with the Dursleys, who look quite unhappy to have him back.

He thinks they’re getting a little brave. 

He’ll have to change that.

Chapter Text

“I need you to sign this.”

It’s the first time Harry has directly addressed one of his relatives instead of just talking to all three of them as if they’re one person. Vernon flinches and Harry grins.

“Sign what?”

“That is not your business,” Harry says. “Just put your name where it says to, no need to fret.”

“And why should I listen to you, boy?” Vernon growls.

Harry does his best not to flinch and he thinks he succeeds. He schools his expression quickly, “Me being away for so long has clearly made you gain your courage back. Even if I’m unable to use my wand outside of school, I can still do all those funny little tricks I used to, back before I had a wand. And unless you sign this, I think that vase right over there would look wonderful smashed to bits over your head.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing after that for Vernon to sign his Hogsmeade permission form. 

A day later, Marge arrives while Harry is packing his things up so he’s ready when Dobby shows up.

Harry enters the kitchen to grab some food some time later, as well as some of Dudley’s snacks and some sodas because he’s decided he wants Draco to try Muggle foods and drinks. He might even be able to convince him to shake the soda before he opens it…

He turns around to find his relatives plus Marge staring at him, Marge with an incredulous look on her face.

“Problem?” he says casually. “No? Wonderful. I’m going to be leaving soon, so don’t worry yourselves too much when I disappear. Have a nice dinner.”

He quickly rushes back upstairs to pack the snacks and soda away. 

He manages to avoid saying even a word to Marge over the next two days. Dobby pops into his room after those two days, buzzing with excitement to have him back in the manor, and Harry happily goes with him.

Draco jumps up from his bed when Harry appears in his room but he doesn’t lunge for a hug like Harry expected. Dobby disappears and the room falls silent.

“Did you get my present?” Draco finally asks.

Harry nods, “Household spells. You’ve finally narrowed down my personality.”

Draco cracks a smile, “I thought you might like it. Maybe now you’ll stop hounding me to clean my side of the room.”

“I’m certainly not doing it for you, Draco.”

“No. ‘Course not.”

They stand there quietly for another long moment before Draco finally walks over and hugs Harry tightly. Harry hugs back, noting silently how different this hug feels than their other hugs.

“Nice to see you alive, Harry,” Draco says, a smile in his voice.

“Yeah. Nice to be alive.”

The strange awkwardness disappears slowly but surely over the next few hours and they’re back to normal by dinner, thankfully.

Harry has just picked up his fork when he finally notices the looks of apprehension being sent his way by both Mrs. and Mr. Malfoy. He slowly sets his fork down, sending the same look back at them and hoping they get the message.

“Oh,” Mrs. Malfoy says softly, “oh, you haven’t heard.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, “I haven’t heard what?”

Draco, seeing his parents’ hesitance, jumps in. “Sirius Black — he’s escaped from Azkaban.”

Harry blinks. He sighs, “As much as it pains me to admit this, I’ve no idea who you’re talking about. Black sounds familiar but not Sirius.”

Mrs. Malfoy glances at her husband before she gently says, “Sirius was your father’s best friend. You wouldn’t have seen him in any of the books you read — he was disowned from the Black family at sixteen. You’d find him in the books about you, though.”

Harry frowns, “Those books aren’t even remotely close to the truth, though.”

“We know,” Mrs. Malfoy says. “And most of the information about Sirius is wrong.”

“Most? What did he even do? Why was he in Azkaban in the first place?”

Mrs. Malfoy looks at her husband.

“It’s said that Black was a follower of the Dark Lord,” Mr. Malfoy says stiffly. “And that he was responsible for your mother and father’s death.”

Harry stares at him. “But that’s not the truth, is it?”

Mr. Malfoy shakes his head, looking down at the table.

“And you know the truth, don’t you?” 

Slowly, he nods.

“But you aren’t going to tell me,” Harry says. “Because somebody told you not to. I’m supposed to just blindly believe lies, that’s what they want.”

Nobody denies this.

“Is the truth even a good one?” Harry says.

“Harry, what you have to understand is —”

Mrs. Malfoy stops when Harry looks at her. She sighs quietly, “No. No, it is… unfortunately quite worse.”

Harry glances at Draco. Draco shakes his head quickly, telling Harry that he too doesn’t know the truth.

“Was it something that you could’ve done something about?” Harry says.

“No,” Mrs. Malfoy shakes his head. “We know the truth but if we had tried to set everything straight, I imagine… well, we wouldn’t be here to tell you this. Either dead or in Azkaban, I really couldn’t tell you.”

“What?” Draco chokes. “You mean someone threatened to — to kill you if you told the truth?”

“Not kill,” she says sharply. “Simply… remove us from the equation.”

“That means kill!”

“You don’t know that for sure. It was purely self preservation. Surely, Harry, you understand.”

Harry is still frowning, but, slowly, he nods, “I do. But I don’t understand why you can’t tell me now. If you haven’t made any Unbreakable Vows…”

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy look at each and share a silent conversation before they look back at him.

“Neither of you can say a word about this. If somebody finds out that you know the truth…”

“We won’t,” Harry quickly promises. “Not a word.”

And so, Harry learns the truth.

He learns that Sirius Black is his godfather and was wrongly accused of being a spy and Secret Keeper for the Potters. It was really Peter Pettigrew. As for the killing of thirteen muggles and Pettigrew, they still don’t know if Sirius actually did that, but with his temperament and tendency to act rash, they wouldn’t be surprised if he did. And according to Mrs. Malfoy, Sirius’ magic was always quite unstable as both a child and teen, so it’s likely in his anger at Pettigrew betraying him and the Potters, he accidentally killed all those muggles along with Pettigrew. 

“So… there’s a chance he’s completely innocent?” Harry says quietly. 

“A chance, yes.”

“And why… why didn’t he get a trial?”

“I do not know. I wish I could tell you the full and complete truth, Harry, but that’s all we know. Just that he wasn’t the one who sold James and Lily out.”

“So — he was supposed to raise me?”

“If not him, Remus Lupin should’ve taken over,” Mrs. Malfoy says. 

“And why didn’t he?” Harry says.

“I don’t know all the details, but the Ministry deemed him unfit to care for you.”

“Why? Did he not have money? Couldn’t he have come back for me after he was financially stable?”

“I don’t think it had anything to do with money,” Mr. Malfoy says quietly, an unreadable look on his face. 

“Lucius,” Mrs. Malfoy says warningly.

“I didn’t say anything,” Mr. Malfoy says.

“You were going to.”

“What?” Harry says. “Is he mean or something? I don’t understand.”

Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy look at each other and have an entire silent conversation within seconds.

“Remus Lupin is a —”

“Lucius, no!”

“Narcissa, he needs to know,” Mr. Malfoy says firmly. “They both do.”

“Do not bring Draco into this,” Mrs. Malfoy says shortly. “This does not concern him.”

“Just because Sirius was your favorite cousin doesn’t mean —”

“This is not about that!” Mrs. Malfoy says loudly, shocking Mr. Malfoy into silence. “Sirius would want Harry to know, that’s just who Sirius was. And Harry would already know if everything didn’t fall apart. But everything did. And right now, that’s not important.”

“Then what is?”

“Keeping Harry safe.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Narcissa?”

“This is not about your opinions!” Mrs. Malfoy slams her fists on the table. “Your prejudices do not matter right now, Lucius!”

“It isn’t about that!”

“Yes it is! You think Remus is an unsafe individual over something he cannot control, that’s why you want to tell Harry. I know you, Lucius, I have my entire life.”

“How about you let Harry decide if he wants to know or not?” Draco interrupts them. “Because this isn’t about you two.”

The two of them at least have the decency to look shameful.

“I apologize, Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy says quietly. 

“I want to know,” Harry says. “I promise I won’t try to… hunt him down and force him to take care of me or something, I just want to know.”

Mrs. Malfoy looks resigned but she gives her husband a nod.

“Remus Lupin is a werewolf,” he says. 

“He — what?” Harry says, clearly thrown off.

“Lupin was deemed unfit to care for you because he is a werewolf.”

Harry lets out a disbelieving laugh, “That’s — that’s dumb. Why… Why would he be unfit? If my dad said that I was to go to him after Sirius, why would they think that?”

“Werewolves face a lot of prejudice no matter what,” Mrs. Malfoy says. “Whether or not your father said he was an able individual, it’s ultimately up to the Ministry to decide if that’s a trustworthy promise.”

Harry feels his lip begin to tremble. “I… I think I need a moment.”

Nobody says anything as he stands up and leaves the dining room, wiping his eyes harshly.

Later, Harry’s mind is still reeling and it’s enough to make him not notice the awkwardness in the air when he lays down next to Draco like he always does.

In the morning, he does notice. He only managed to go to sleep at around four in the morning, but still, they wake up tangled together like they always do and the air is full of awkwardness and tension as they get dressed for breakfast. Neither of them acknowledge it and Harry is more than happy about that.

Harry starts sleeping in a different room after that. They don’t talk about it.

Near the end of summer, they head to Diagon Alley to buy their supplies and before Harry knows it, they’re climbing on the train to go back to school.

Pansy’s hug almost knocks him off his feet. She frets over him for a long few minutes before finally deeming him healthy and then dragging him to the compartment she’s already claimed. Ginny appears ten minutes later and hugs Harry so tightly, he almost can’t breathe. 

“ — and its Marcus' last year,” Harry is saying, about an hour later, “and I don’t think I’m going to be King next year, but I need to start preparing for that to happen, and —”

The compartment door slides open. Harry quickly shuts his mouth and looks over to find Marcus himself standing there.

“I want to talk to you.”

Harry quickly stands up. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give him back soon,” Marcus says to his friends before he walks away. Harry shares a look with Pansy before following him.

Marcus leads him to an empty compartment and slides the door shut behind him, gesturing for Harry to sit.

“It’s my last year,” Marcus says, sitting down across from Harry. “You know this, I’m sure it’s been on your mind all summer. I want to know what you plan to do when I’m gone.”

Harry blinks, “Well, they wouldn’t accept a fourth year, would they?”

“Harry, this is you we’re talking about,” Marcus smirks. “And I don’t just mean Harry Potter, I mean you. You’re bloody insane and they already blindly follow you without a question. They trust you. If you wanted to be King, I have no doubt that you could probably do it this year.”

Harry leans back in his seat and mulls this over. “I suppose you’re right. How different is it, being King? Is it just like being a Yule Ruler or is there more?”

“You obviously have quite a bit more power. You’re in charge of making sure the Year Rulers are good for the job and are actually doing their job and you have the power to get rid of any Year Ruler you deem unworthy of holding that title. You’re also in charge of making sure the connections between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stay strong, if you have them. I don’t think we have anybody in Puff this year but I know I have to deal with some Ravens. If somebody finds out about the system that you think shouldn’t know, it’s your job to deal with it however you think is necessary. Stuff like that, y’know? It’s quite simple to learn all the power you have because as soon as you become King, everybody starts asking you to do things that, you’ll quickly find out, only you can do.”

“Right,” Harry nods to himself. He purses his lips, “I’m not actually insane, by the way.”

Marcus chuckles, “No, of course not, but you’re powerful. And you’re charismatic and easy to like.”

“Really? Easy to like?”

“Only a little,” Marcus says. “Plus, you’re absolutely terrifying. You’ve kind of mellowed out since your first year but I’m sure you won’t hesitate to bring it back out if need be.”

“You know me so well, Marcus,” Harry grins. Marcus rolls his eyes. “Is there something else or —”

The compartment door suddenly slides open to reveal Hermione Granger. An angry looking Hermione Granger.

“Granger,” Harry straightens up slightly. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

She rolls her eyes, “Ronald has something to tell you but he didn’t want to come and find you so I took it upon myself.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “And what does Ronald have to say to me?”

She falters and looks at the ground, “Would you, perhaps, be willing to come down to our compartment?”

Harry’s lips form a thin lip before he sighs and stands up. The only reason he’s even considering going down there is because Weasley saved his life, that’s it.

Marcus stands up as well and claps Harry on the shoulder, “Hey, if you want any pointers, I’ll direct you to Graham.”

Harry snorts, “Yeah, I’ll be sure to ask him everything. He’s more qualified than you, surely.”

“Oh, of course,” Marcus says. “By the way — we have a Chaser opening. Just saying.”

Harry, caught up in the amusement of Marcus not letting Graham back on the Quidditch team for challenging him last year, only realizes that Marcus wants him to fill that space a few minutes later when he’s walking with Granger down to her compartment. 

He thinks Draco will be delighted to hear that he’s considering it.

When he enters the compartment, he sees Weasley, Thomas, and Finnigan, as he expected, but he also sees a sleeping figure by the window.

“New professor,” Weasley says before Harry can ask.

Harry blinks, “There’s plenty of empty compartments down the train, why didn’t you — you know what, I don’t care. What’s this about?”

But before Weasley can say a word, Harry catches sight of the suitcase.

“Lupin?” he says, looking at the figure again. He purses his lips and looks over his shoulder before he shakes his head, “Sorry, go on.” 

Weasley stares at him for a moment before he blinks a few times to get his thoughts back. “My dad works at the Ministry and they’ve put most everybody on the search for Sirius Black. He learned some stuff and I wanted to tell you —”

“That Sirius Black wants to kill me? I’m aware,” Harry says. Weasley looks shocked. “I don’t spend the entire summer with Muggles, Weasley.”

“Right. Malfoy told you.”

“Ding ding ding,” Harry says snarkily. “Look, I appreciate the sentiment, that was pretty nice of you, but I know what you’re trying to do and I’d honestly rather you not.”

Weasley crosses his arms, “And what am I doing?”

“You want to be my friend, or at least, acquaintance,” Harry says. “And you want to be the hero. Unfortunately, you have been the hero the past two years, but I’m afraid that at some point, that’s going to be put to a stop. You may as well give up now, Weasley. In both regards.”

“Unfortunately,” Weasley says blankly. “I saved your life twice.”

“Once,” Harry corrects. “I wouldn’t have died down there in that room, I would have just been very confused. You only saved my life last year.”

Weasley stares at him. “You don’t seriously think Dumbledore planned everything, do you?”

“Oh, and now we’re bringing up the Polyjuice, okay,” Harry mumbles. “Weasley, everything you heard me say didn’t concern you. At all. You don’t have to forget it but you certainly shouldn’t go strutting about and talking about it. That was meant for my friends. Not you three. And if it’s any consolation, I do think he planned out my entire life, and I ruined it by becoming a slimy fucking snake. Hope that helped you, Weasley.”

Harry casts one last glance at Lupin before he turns and leaves the compartment, heading back to his own. 

“Harry —” Pansy starts when Harry enters.

“Remus Lupin is our DADA professor this year,” Harry interrupts, sitting back down. “Y’know — the guy who was supposed to raise me.”

“Remus Lupin,” Draco repeats slowly, “is our DADA professor this year. So… the Ministry deemed him unfit to care for you —”

“— and then allowed Dumbledore to hire him to teach children, yeah,” Harry says. 

“I can’t tell if that means he was fit to care for you or if it means we have another horrible teacher.”

“I have a feeling,” Harry growls, “that he’s perfectly capable of caring for a child and teaching multiple groups of them.”

Pansy, Draco, and Ginny leave him to brood, deciding it might be better if they let him sort out his thoughts before trying to comfort him.

Harry is pulled out his thoughts hours later by the train slowing down. He looks outside but he can’t see anything through the rain.

“Are we there?” he says.

“We can’t be,” Pansy says. 

“Then why —”

Draco yelps when the lights go out. Ginny and Pansy begin laughing and Harry smirks before he pulls out his wand and mumbles, “Lumos.”

For a few minutes, the four of them speculate about what might’ve happened, and are rather rudely interrupted by the compartment door sliding open. Expecting another curious student or maybe even the driver, Harry looks over. He gasps audibly when he sees what he can only assume is a dementor, the things Mr. Malfoy warned him and Draco about before they came to King’s Cross. 

He manages to keep a hold on his wand so their light doesn’t go out and very quickly begins to think happy thoughts, just as Mr. Malfoy instructed them to do if they ever got too close to a dementor.

The temperature in the compartment drops dramatically and Harry feels a deep rooted sadness take hold of his heart. The dementor stays there for a long time and Harry registers, very faintly, the sound of screaming. It can’t be anybody on the train, it’s too far away, but… who then? 

Before Harry can figure it out, the dementor glides away, the compartment door sliding and clicking softly shut behind it, and taking the screaming with it.

It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s shaking from head to toe. His friends definitely look shaken but they aren’t actively shaking as much as him, except for maybe Ginny, but she’s doing a better job as controlling it than Harry is. Without saying a word, Pansy wraps an arm around Ginny and pulls her close to her side. Draco does the same with Harry and Harry, without a care in the world, relishes in the warmth of the embrace and allows it to happen. 

They remain like that for the rest of the train ride.

Chapter Text

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’ve said that about twenty times already,” Draco says as they head down to Potions.

“And I still mean it,” Harry says. He himself is sporting a rather nasty black eye from being hit in the face by Buckbeak’s wing. Madam Pomfrey told him that, unfortunately, they’ve yet to invent a bruise removal charm or potion, so all she can do is relieve the pain. “Insulting a hippogriff — honestly! And with the dramatics your father likes to take, I won’t be shocked if you’ve gotten Hagrid fired.”

“I didn’t even owl him yet!” Draco protests.

“He’s going to find out some other way then, and then he’s going to be even more pissed off because you didn’t owl him, so it’s better if you owl him now,” Harry says. “Let him find out by your letter, not somebody else’s. And tell him that your arm is already healed and there’s no reason to make it a big deal because it was your own fault it happened.”

“You still have a black eye.”

“My bruise doesn’t matter because it was my fault I was standing too close,” Harry crosses his arms. “It’ll be gone by next week, anyway.”

“You’ll be taking pain potions for a week, then!”

“I’ve been through worse,” Harry hisses.

Draco immediately deflates and Harry isn’t sure if it was the borderline Parseltongue that scared him into submission or if it was the mention of Harry’s past abuse. Maybe both.

“Fine,” he says, still slightly haughtily to keep some of his dignity. “I’ll owl him later.”

“Okay.”

“Owl your mother,” Pansy says. “She’s always been able to knock some sense into your father.”

“Listen to Pansy,” Harry says.

“I hate both of you,” Draco grumbles as they enter Snape’s classroom and walk over to their seats.

“Why haven’t you owled him yet?” Harry asks.

“Because,” Draco lowers his voice, glancing across the table at Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas, “I know you like Hagrid, and I didn’t want… because you’ve made me a good fucking person and I hate you for it.”

Harry grins, “You prefer being an absolute arsehole?”

“Well, it’s certainly much easier than being nice,” Draco mumbles. “I don’t know how you do it sometimes. I would lose my temper so fast.”

“It comes with practice,” Harry says, setting his cauldron up. “Trust me, if you knew what I have to deal with over the summer…”

“I thought you said you already dealt with them.”

“Well, yeah, years ago. They’ve gotten brave since I’m not there all the time anymore.”

“Merlin, Harry…”

“I didn’t even say anything bad,” Harry rolls his eyes. 

“You hinted at doing bad things.”

“Well… you can’t fucking blame me.”

“Of course I don’t blame you, dumbass, I’m just saying. Maybe if you don’t want people to think you’re insane anymore, you should cut back on the… that.”

“The that,” Harry repeats blankly.

“Yes. That. The that,” Draco says, too prideful to admit to saying something stupid.

“Right,” Harry nods. “Okay. Set up your cauldron, stupid.”

Draco quickly listens.

Snape tells them their ingredients and instructions and everybody gets to work. 

“Did you see the Prophet this morning?” Harry hears Finnigan say a little later. “They reckon Sirius Black’s been sighted.” 

“Where?” Weasley and Thomas say. 

“Not too far from here,” Finnigan says, looking almost excited. “It was a Muggle who saw him. ‘Course, she didn’t really understand. The Muggles think he’s just an ordinary criminal, don’t they? So she phoned the telephone hotline. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone.” 

Harry’s hand slips and he slices the head off his caterpillar.

“Ignore them,” Draco says quietly, focused on cutting his daisy roots perfectly. “They just want you to acknowledge them. Don’t.”

“You don’t think he’s going to try to get into Hogwarts, do you?” Thomas says. 

“He can’t! Not with the dementors everywhere,” Finnigan says. “I say let him try. The dementors can deal with him — save the aurors a load of trouble.”

“Harry,” Draco grabs Harry’s wrist just as Harry takes a breath to start talking. “You heard Mother. Leave it alone.”

Thankfully, and very unfortunately, Snape distracts everybody by announcing that Trevor the Toad will be getting a dose of Neville’s Shrinking Potion at the end of class. Harry pretends not to see Granger whispering instructions to him, but he does smirk when she gets points taken away for doing it.

They head to lunch after Potions and this is when Harry decides to break the news.

He does it casually while his mouth is full. “I’m trying out for the Quidditch team.”

Draco drops his fork.

“You — what?” Draco says, already buzzing with excitement.

Harry swallows, “Graham’s off the team for his stunt last year so I’m going to try out.”

Draco laughs breathily, looking at Pansy and Ginny, who are not nearly as excited as him. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day, Harry.”

Harry laughs. 

After lunch, they head to their first DADA lesson with the Gryffindors. If Harry cared, he might be suspicious about how many classes the Slytherins and Gryffindors have together, but at this point, he isn’t surprised.

Lupin (Remus?) directs them to the staffroom after showing up late and expertly dealing with Peeves, and by that point, Harry is already getting angry again because clearly, Lupin is actually good at what he does.

Snape is inside the staffroom when they enter.

“Leave it open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness this,” he says, standing up and walking over to the door. He turns on his heel in the doorway before leaving and says, “Possibly no one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear.” 

“Stop,” Draco mumbles, grabbing Harry’s wrist. “I know what you’re thinking, quit it.”

“Shut up,” Harry hisses.

“I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation,” Lupin says, “and I am sure he will perform it admirably.” Draco lets go of Harry’s wrist and raises his eyebrows. Harry glares at him. 

Snape leaves with his lip curled.

“Now, then,” Lupin says, directing them to a wardrobe. It gives a sudden wobble. “Nothing to worry about. There’s a boggart in there.” 

Pansy squeaks and Harry gets the feeling that maybe he should be worried.

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” Lupin explains. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I’ve even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. 

“So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?”

Granger’s hand shoots up. So does Draco’s, never one to let Granger get all the glory.

“It’s a shape-shifter,” Granger says quickly. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.” 

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Lupin says. Granger beams. Draco scowls and drops his hand. “So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. 

“This means,” Lupin says, ignoring Neville’s terrified look, “that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?” 

Harry blinks, not expecting to be called on. He thinks for a second and then says, “There’s too many of us. It wouldn’t know what to turn into, it would get confused.”

“Precisely,” Lupin says. Harry feels a fresh wave of rage wash over him but he manages not to show it on his face. “It’s always best to have company when you’re dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. 

“The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. 

“We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… riddikulus!” 

“Riddikulus!” everybody says.

“Good,” Lupin says. “Very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville.” 

The wardrobe gives another shake.

“Right, Neville,” Lupin says. “First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?” 

Neville’s lips move but no sound comes out.

“I didn’t catch that, Neville, sorry,” Lupin says, a little too cheerful for asking somebody what their biggest fear is. 

After a moment of panic, Neville finally relents and whispers, “Professor Snape.”

At everybody’s laughter, Neville grins slightly, looking a little more at ease.

“Professor Snape… hm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?” 

“Er — yes,” Neville says nervously. “But — I don’t want that boggart to turn into her either.” 

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” Lupin says, smiling. “I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?” 

Neville blinks and then says, “Well… always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf.” 

“And a handbag?” Lupin says, as if he knows her personally. 

“A big red one.”

“Right then,” Lupin says. “Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind’s eye?” 

“Yes…”

“When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape,” Lupin says. “And you will raise your wand — thus — and cry ‘Riddikulus’ — and concentrate hard on your grandmother’s clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag.” 

Draco snorts next to him. “If I had a camera…”

Pansy laughs.

“If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn,” Lupin says. “I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…” 

The room goes quiet. Harry’s first thought is Voldemort, but he quickly dismisses that. Next, a dementor pops into his head, but that also goes away just as quickly as Voldemort. Thinking about Voldemort, though, reminds him of his first year. Of his panic attack and the reason for it. The cupboard under the stairs… 

“Everyone ready?” Lupin says. Harry’s stomach lurches. How can he make his fear of being locked up again amusing? But everybody else is nodding and readying themselves so Harry remains quiet, thinking hard.

“Neville, we’re going to back away,” Lupin says. “Let you have a clear field, all right? I’ll call the next person forward… Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot —” 

Everybody backs up against the wall, leaving Neville alone in the middle of the room. 

“On the count of three, Neville,” Lupin says, pointing his wand at the wardrobe. “One — two — three —now!” 

Harry watches in fascination as the door opens and Snape steps out, sneering. 

“R-r- riddikulus!”

Snape now stands before them wearing a green dress, a vulture topped hat, and is carrying a red handbag. Draco laughs along with everyone else.

It goes through quite a few people before landing in front of Harry. Harry quickly raises his wand and readies himself to see the cupboard when Lupin suddenly jumps in front of him. The boggart changes into a silvery orb and Lupin, almost lazily, says, “Riddikulus,” before telling Neville to finish it off.

“Excellent!” Lupin says. “Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone… Let me see… five points to Gryffindor and Slytherin for every person to tackle the boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice… and five to Gryffindor for Hermione and five to Slytherin for Harry.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Harry says.

“You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry,” Lupin says. Harry knocks his shoulder against Draco’s when he snickers. “Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all.”

Draco and Pansy are obviously quite happy with the outcome of the class but refrain from gushing when they see how obviously angry Harry is.

Ginny, however, doesn’t notice immediately.

At dinner, she sits down, grinning. “Professor Lupin is already a million times better than Lockhart. He said you guys got to deal with boggart today, is that true? We found one in the broomshed one time and it wasn’t very pretty but I’m sure kids have much less serious fears than adults do.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” Harry growls. “He stepped in front of me before I could have a go.”

Ginny furrows her eyebrows, “He did? Why?”

“I don’t know!” Harry explodes, earning a few glances from his house mates. “It’s not like that boggart was about to turn into Voldemort, I don’t understand why he didn’t let me —”

“It wouldn’t?” Pansy interrupts.

Harry stops and glares at her, “No. I don’t even know what Voldemort looks like.”

“Then… well, what else would it turn into?” Pansy says. 

“Pansy…”

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Look, Harry, it’s not that big of a deal. I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of other instances where you’ll have to deal with a boggart.”

“I don’t even care about the boggart!” Harry says exasperatedly. “Lupin is a good teacher, which means he probably would’ve been more than adequate at raising me, but no! It’s unbelievable.”

“Why, pray tell, do you think he would’ve raised you anyway?” Pansy says.

Draco and Harry make eye contact. 

“You know something,” Ginny says immediately. “What do you know?”

“Ginny —”

“Tell us,” she demands. “It’s obviously important.”

“We can’t,” Draco says. “We promised not to.”

“Well, we promise not to tell.”

“Ginny,” Draco says, “I want to tell you so badly, but please, just leave it alone.”

Ginny sighs, pouting for a second before she shakes her head and says, “Harry, you need a broom.”

Harry blinks and then his eyes widen, “I need a broom.”

Chapter Text

“This broom sucks,” Harry remarks upon landing on the ground.

Marcus grins, “Maybe it isn’t the broom.”

“No, because I’m good at flying, and I know I am,” Harry says. 

“Right, of course,” Marcus says. “Here. Borrow mine. It’s faster and I need to see you at top speed.”

Harry nods and switches them out, mounting Marcus' broom and kicking off. 

He notices an immediate difference between the Shooting Star he was just riding and the Nimbus Two Thousand and One that he’s riding now. He does a few loops before leaning down and pressing his chest against the broom handle and urging the broom to go faster. He grins when he feels the air whipping around his face. 

When he lands back on the ground, Marcus is looking especially smug and Harry catches Adrian shoving three galleons into his fist. 

“Did you have a bet against me?” Harry asks him.

“You can’t be good at everything,” Adrian says.

“Um, not good at Divination,” Harry shrugs.

“Nobody’s good at Divination, it’s guessing,” Adrian says. “You don’t even take that class.”

“Yeah, because it’s bullshit,” Harry says, earning a laugh from Adrian. 

“You and Warrington,” Marcus says. “Throw the Quaffle around, move around, score some goals. After a minute, Bole and Derrick are gonna kick off and throw some Bludgers around that you’ll dodge and Blechtley will play Keeper while Pucey joins you two. Sound good?”

“Perfect,” Cassius nods.

“Alright, get up there,” Marcus gestures for them to do as he asks.

Draco throws a Quaffle at Harry and then both him and Cassius kick off and begin tossing it around.

Later, Harry is lounging on his bed and scouring a broom catalogue while Draco talks.

“There’s no way Marcus puts Warrington on,” Draco says. “Warrington’s good but you’re better, Harry.”

“I don’t really mind either way,” Harry says offhandedly. “Flint can put Cassius on if he wants to. Hey — have either of your parents said anything about Buckbeak?”

It being the start of October, Harry’s black eye has faded completely, and the only trace of Buckbeak left is the constant it’s killed meh’s from the Gryffindors, who seem to think Draco’s dramatics are still funny, even after a month. 

“Oh, yeah, Father was pretty pissed off,” Draco shrugs. “Mother convinced him not to do anything, though. She told him that you would be really mad at him if he did and that was the deciding factor on whether or not he took it to the governors. After the diary, I don’t think he wants to take any chances.”

Harry drops the catalogue on his chest and sits up, “Holy shit.”

“What?” Draco says. He gasps, then. “Did you not know?”

“No, I did,” Harry says quickly. “Or — I did know but not really. Dobby sort of… warned me something was going to happen and it had something to do with the Malfoys but you saying that finally pieced it together.”

Draco blinks. “Oh. And you aren't mad?”

“No,” Harry drops back onto the bed and picks up the catalogue again. “He didn’t know that a piece of Voldemort was inside the diary, otherwise, he wouldn’t have so carelessly thrown it into Ginny’s possession. Now, I can’t promise that Ginny won’t be mad, but she doesn’t really know the truth, and it’s up to you and Mr. Malfoy if you tell her.”

“Right,” Draco mumbles. 

Two weeks later, two notices are put up in the common room. One informs them that the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year will be on Halloween and the other informs them that Harry is the new Chaser on the Quidditch team. Draco, Pansy, and Ginny almost cry when they see it.

Harry begins practicing with the team twice a week and Halloween comes around quicker than Harry expected. He wakes up excited to get out of the castle and visit all the shops. 

He’s tying Draco’s scarf properly around his neck as they walk to the entrance hall when Professor McGonagall catches him. 

“Potter,” she says, her voice as sharp and short as always. He drops his hands to his side and looks at her. “Follow me.”

“But, Professor —”

She fixes him with a stern glare that makes him give in and follow her away from everybody. She stops well out of hearing range, waves her wand once, and then says, firmly, “It is in my best intentions to not allow you to go to Hogsmeade, Potter.”

“What?” Harry says, immediately angry. “Is this about Sirius Black? Why would he try to kill me around a bunch of students?”

“He may not try but if there’s even a sliver of a chance, I don’t want to take it.”

“Wha — that makes no sense, Professor,” he says. “He… I’ll be fine! I know how to defend myself! Maybe not completely, but I could throw him off enough to run away.”

“It’s not an argument, Potter. As Deputy Headmistress, it is well within my power to not allow students to go to Hogsmeade when I think they shouldn’t. And as of right now, Potter, I don’t think it safe that you go down there.”

Harry’s face hardens and he goes in for the kill, even though he knows all hope is lost, “It’s because it’s Halloween, isn’t it? You think he’s going to try to kill me tonight just like he did my parents twelve years ago, don’t you?”

Professor McGonagall flinches and Harry immediately feels bad. That was uncalled for. 

“Well,” she says, her voice clipped. “I didn’t think that originally but now that you’ve said something, it’s solidified this decision. You’re allowed to go back and inform your friends but you are not to leave the castle unless I permit it, is that clear?”

Harry clenches his jaw, “Yes, Professor.”

Draco and Pansy are not happy but, after convincing them that he’ll be fine, they leave without him with the promise of bringing him something back.

Harry stands, lost, near the entrance hall for a while before he shakes his head and turns, heading upstairs instead of down to the dungeons. 

He’s just thought of visiting Hedwig, which he hasn’t done in a while, when somebody says his name.

He doubles back and peers inside the office he heard the voice in.

“What are you doing?” Lupin says, merely sounding curious and not accusatory. “Where are Draco and Pansy?”

“Hogsmeade,” he enters Lupin’s office. “McGonagall said I wasn’t allowed to go.”

Lupin hums and changes the subject. “Tea? I was thinking of making some.”

“Sure,” Harry lowers himself into a chair near Lupin’s desk, looking around his office. He hasn’t decorated at all or personalized it, almost like he expects to be thrown out any second. With the information Harry knows about him, he likely does think that. He catches sight of something and makes a face.

Lupin chuckles, “That’s a Grindylow. You’ll be learning about them in our next lesson.”

Harry nods, feeling quite awkward as Lupin passes him a chipped mug of steaming tea. 

“You seem troubled,” Lupin says, sipping his own steaming tea. He doesn’t react to the scalding temperature. “What’s on your mind?”

Harry shrugs, “A lot. I was going to visit my owl. I haven’t seen her since last term and I’m sure she’s very unhappy with me for not visiting sooner, but I’ll go see her later.”

Lupin hums, “I know how that feels. I had a friend whose owl was always quite angry with me when I didn’t visit first thing September second.”

Harry huffs a laugh. He gets a sudden thought and his amusement quickly vanishes. 

“Back when we fought that dementor,” he says quietly, “why didn’t you let me fight it?”

“I would have thought that was obvious, Harry.”

Harry blinks. “Well, obviously, but… I’m not really afraid of him.”

“Voldemort?”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up but he doesn’t comment. “Um… no. He’s scary, sure, but there are scarier things than… my imminent death,” he cracks a smile.

Lupin does too. “Well… is there something else you were thinking about?”

“Being locked up,” Harry says. “Having no freedom.”

“Ah, and that’s why Professor McGonagall telling you not to go to Hogsmeade has got you down?”

“Sort of,” Harry nods. 

“Do you want to tell me what other reasons you’re so down for the count?”

“There’s quite an obvious one looming over both of us currently,” Harry says bitterly. He sets his tea down, having not drank a sip of it, and clasps his hands together. He ignores Lupin’s tight frown in favor of leaning forward and saying, “I have a question —”

But what his question is, Lupin doesn’t hear, as there’s a knock on the door just as he goes to ask it. Snape enters, carrying a goblet that is smoking faintly. Harry straightens up immediately at the sight of his Head of House. 

“Ah, Severus,” Lupin says, smiling. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?” 

Snape does, his eyes jumping from Harry to Lupin with a look of both curiosity and annoyance.

“I was just showing Harry my Grindylow,” Lupin says, gesturing to the tank.

“Fascinating,” Snape says without looking at it. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.” 

“Yes, yes, I will,” Lupin nods. 

“I made an entire cauldron full,” Snape says. “If you need more.” 

“I should probably have some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.” 

Snape nods once and his eyes find Harry again. Harry looks away quickly and Snape leaves even quicker.

“You had a question?” Lupin says curiously, quickly downing the potion and making a face.

“No. Sorry,” Harry says, deciding not to mention anything about Lupin not raising him. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”

“Said what? Mention the obvious thing looming over the both of us?” Lupin says, smiling ruefully. 

“Yeah. That was… uncalled for.”

“Why? I was merely their friend, Harry, and that does not equate to parent.”

“You were close, though, from the stories I’ve heard,” Harry says. “You knew them a lot longer than I did. Oh my god —” Harry covers his face with his hands, his face slowly heating up.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Lupin says, sounding amused. “We all cope differently. Humor happens to be both of our mechanisms. But — it’s not everybody’s, so perhaps the jokes should happen scarcely.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry lifts his head up.

“Don’t be,” Lupin says. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Now — I need to get back to work, but I will see you at the feast. Go entertain yourself with your friends.”

“Right. Ginny,” Harry stands up. “See you, Professor.”

“See you, Harry.”

Hours later, Pansy and Draco dump an armful of sweets and other things into Harry’s own arms. He thanks them and puts everything in his trunk before leading his friends down to the Halloween feast. It’s as amazing as always and lifts Harry’s mood instantly. He and Lupin catch each other’s eye near the end of the feast and share a secret smile. 

When they get back to the common room, Harry is throwing around the idea of very quickly going to visit Hedwig when Snape enters the common room and ushers everybody out and back to the Great Hall, not giving them an explanation as to why.

“The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle,” Dumbledore tells them a few minutes later while Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick close all the doors leading the hall. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately,” he adds to Percy. “Send word with one of the ghosts.” 

With one wave of his wand, the tables fly to the edges of the hall and are replaced by hundreds of purple sleeping bags.

“Sleep well,” Dumbledore says, closing the door behind him.

“Ron,” Harry hears Ginny hiss. “Ron, what’s going on?”

“Sirius Black tried to break into the common room,” he tells her quietly. 

“What?” Harry quickly joins Ginny’s side, looking incredulously at her brother. “He did? Who said?”

“Well, Peeves did, but he was too happy about it to be lying,” Ron says. (Harry is very mad that Weasley is now Ron)

Harry looks at Draco. 

“Everyone into their sleeping bags!” Percy shouts. “Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!” 

Harry, Pansy, Draco, and Ginny find themselves in the middle of a bunch of Gryffindors in a corner, all whispering conspirituality.

“Do you think Black’s still in the castle?” he hears Granger whisper. 

“Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be,” Ron says. 

“It’s very lucky he picked tonight, you know,” Granger mumbles. “The one night we weren’t in the tower…” 

“I reckon he’s lost track of time, being on the run,” Ron says. “Didn’t realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he’d have come bursting in here.” 

“You’re both idiots,” Harry says. They look at him, offended. “My parents died twelve years ago tonight. He didn’t do it by accident.”

They’re eyes widen simultaneously.

“Besides, he’s obviously not here to kill me, as previously thought,” Harry says. “It’s pretty common knowledge by now that I’m a Slytherin.”

“He’s been in Azkaban for twelve years,” Thomas hisses. “Everybody expected you to go to Gryffindor, how would he have known you didn’t?”

“He surely didn’t just waltz into Hogwarts without a plan,” Harry says. “With however long he’s been thinking about breaking into Gryffindor tower, he would’ve had to see me with my tie on.”

“You think he’s been in the castle longer than tonight?” Pansy says.

“Harry,” Draco’s voice is warning.

“I’m not saying anything, Draco,” Harry growls, glaring at his best friend.

“Just stop before you do, dumbass,” Draco flops onto his back, staring at the starry ceiling. “I don’t understand you — you’re so powerful but you have the biggest mouth.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Because I don’t. I just know when to stop.”

“Clearly,” Draco says sarcastically.

“Look, if you’re going to be a dick right now, go sleep somewhere else, I don’t want to hear it,” Harry also flops onto his back. 

“Merlin, you two are so married, just shut up,” Pansy says. 

Draco and Harry both sputter, earning laughter from Pansy and Ginny.

“The lights are going out now!” Percy yells. “I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!”

The candles extinguish at once, but the whispering doesn’t stop.

Once every hour, a professor will poke their head in to make sure everything is quiet. At around three in the morning, Dumbledore comes in. Harry is now laying closer to Draco than he should be, both of them whispering to each other. Pansy and Ginny are the same way. Dumbledore and Percy stop near their sleeping bags and the four, plus the four Gryffindors around them, all pretend to be asleep.

“Any sign of him, Professor?” Percy whispers.

“No. All well here?” 

“Everything under control, sir.” 

“Good. There’s no point moving them all now. I’ve found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You’ll be able to move them back in tomorrow.” 

“And the Fat Lady, sir?” 

“Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She’s still very distressed, but once she’s calmed down, I’ll have Mr. Filch restore her.” 

Harry hears the door of the hall creak open and more footsteps.

“Headmaster?” Snape’s voice says. “The whole of the third floor has been searched. He’s not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either.” 

“What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney’s room? The Owlery?” 

“All searched…” 

“Very well, Severus. I didn’t really expect Black to linger.” 

“Have you any theory as to how he got in, Professor?” Snape says.

“Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next.” 

Harry opens his eyes slightly, peeking at the three. Dumbledore has his back to them and Harry can see Percy’s face and Snape’s profile, which looks angry.

“You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before — ah — the start of term?” Snape says.  

“I do, Severus,” Dumbledore says. Harry senses a hint of warning in his voice.

“It seems — almost impossible — that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed —” 

“I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it,” Dumbledore says firmly. “I must go down to the Dementors. I said I would inform them when our search was complete.” 

Harry moves closer to Draco and lowers his voice considerably, “Does Snape know that Sirius…”

“I don’t know,” Draco mumbles, barely moving his lips. “I would think so but maybe not.”

Harry sighs.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry?”

Marcus is immediately smiling at the scandalized tone Harry takes with him. 

Harry throws his Shooting Star aside and approaches Marcus, an incredulous look on his face. Marcus towers over Harry, easily two heads taller than him, but Harry doesn’t care one bit.

“You’re afraid of a bit of rain?” 

“It’s quite more than a bit, Harry,” Marcus says, amused.

“It’s really not going to be pretty,” Adrian adds.

“No, shh,” Harry holds a finger up to Adrian. Adrian blinks. The rest of the team is snickering. “Marcus, I joined the Quidditch team under the impression that I would be playing Quidditch, not wimping out a week before the first match because of a storm. I encourage you —”

“You encourage me.”

“— I encourage you to rethink your decision of wimping out, because if not, I will be very fucking mad at you.”

“He’s learned a bunch of new hexes, don’t test it,” Draco warns.

“You can’t seriously want to play in that weather,” Marcus says.

“Of course I don’t want to, Marcus, but it’s cheap,” Harry crosses his arms. “It’s a cheap move. Gryffindor’s been practicing to go against us, and if we drop out, they go against Hufflepuff, and that’s a cheap move to pull.”

“You know what was cheap?” Marcus raises an eyebrow. “Gryffindor winning the House Cup in your first year.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something but shuts it a second later, scowling. 

Marcus looks smug but Harry is determined, so he pulls something out of his ass that actually comes out sounding good.

“That was all Dumbledore,” he says. “He didn’t have to wait until the last minute to give them points but he did. They didn’t pull that move, it was Dumbledore.”

Marcus is considerably less smug now. “I really hate you, Harry.”

“Oh, you love me, shut up.”

In the end, Marcus agrees to let them play in the match on Saturday. The team is too impressed with the way Harry told the King off like a child to complain.

OoOo

“Did you hear?” Draco whispers, ducking his head so he can talk even quieter. “Daisy Corran wants to be Queen next year.”

“Isn’t she the redhead who sits near us at meals?” Harry mutters.

“Yeah, her. She’s a sixth year, so it’s more reasonable than Graham trying to challenge Marcus as a fourth year but still.”

“She’s not challenging Marcus, is she?”

“No, just planning on being Queen next year. And if she does, you’re going to have to challenge her.”

“No,” Harry says sharply. “If she becomes Queen next year, I’m leaving it alone. I’ll not risk being banished over having power. Besides, everybody already expects me to be King, there’s literally no way she’ll succeed.”

“You’re awfully confident about that,” Pansy says, sounding almost offended.

They stop outside Lupin’s classroom, waiting with a group of Gryffindors and Slytherins to be let inside.

“I’m not saying anything bad,” Harry says, “just that it’s unlikely she’ll succeed in getting the support she needs when everybody is already planning on pushing me to the top.”

“I heard from my mother that the last time we had a Queen was over twenty years ago,” Pansy crosses her arms.

“Oh, honestly, Pansy, her being a girl has nothing to do with it,” Harry says. “I’m sure she’d be more than adequate but, like I said, everybody is already planning on pushing me up, so she won’t get support. It’s as simple as that, there’s no need to dig so deep.”

“I’m just saying,” Pansy says.

“Well, don’t,” Draco says, earning a slap on the arm from both Harry and Pansy.

The chatter in the corridor very quickly stops when Professor Snape billows into view, announcing that he’ll be teaching Lupin’s class today. He ushers them all inside.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ron asks.

“Nothing life-threatening,” Snape says. Harry shares an exasperated look with Draco.

Once everyone is seated, Snape begins the class.

“Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far —” 

“Please, sir, we’ve done boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows,” Granger quickly says, “and we’re just about to start —” 

“Be quiet,” Snape says coldly. “I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin’s lack of organization.” 

“He’s the best DADA professor we’ve ever had,” Thomas says boldly, crossing his arms. There’s a murmur of agreement around the class. Harry rolls his eyes, even though he agrees.

“You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you — I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss —” he flips to the very back of their textbook, “— werewolves.”

Harry chokes.

“But, sir,” Granger says, unable to restrain herself, “we’re not supposed to do werewolves yet, we’re due to start Hinkypunks —” 

“Miss Granger,” Snape says calmly, “I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394… All of you! Now!” 

Harry glances at Draco and Draco shrugs one shoulder. Pansy looks between them with narrowed eyes.

“Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?” Snape says. Everyone remains silent, except Granger, who’s hand is in the air like it always is. Even Draco seems stumped, which is to be expected, because they haven’t learned about werewolves yet, and they are due to start Hinkypunks today. Lupin recognized how little they actually know so there is actually a reason they are so far behind the usual curriculum. 

“Anyone?” Snape says, ignoring Granger. “Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn’t even taught you the basic distinction between —” 

“We told you,” Parvati Patil says suddenly, “we haven’t got as far as werewolves yet, we’re still on —” 

“Silence!” Snape snarls. “Well, well, well, I never thought I’d meet a third-year class who wouldn’t even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…” 

“Please, sir,” Granger says, her hand still in the air, “the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf —” 

“That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,” Snape says. “Five points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.” 

Granger goes very red and puts her hand down slowly, tears filling her eyes. Harry scowls. He may not like Granger but he knows what it feels like to be humiliated like that and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

“You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?” Ron says loudly.

It becomes very clear very quickly that he went too far. Snape advances slowly, leaning down to talk in Ron’s face. 

“Detention, Weasley. And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.” 

Nobody talks for the rest of the class, not even the Slytherins. When class ends, Snape holds them back.

“You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention.” 

Harry, as soon as they leave, says, “Your godfather is a prick.”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” Draco mumbles. 

OoOo

“What’s this?” Harry says as Draco shoves a broom into his hands.

“I told Father to send one of the spares for you to use while you decide which one to buy,” Draco says. “It’s a Nimbus Two Thousand. Way better than a Shooting Star.”

“And I found this charm,” Pansy takes Harry’s glasses off his face. She mumbles a charm and places them back onto his face. “There. The rain won’t affect them now — you’ll be able to see perfectly.”

“Thanks,” Harry says to both of them.

“I’m going up there. You better win!” Pansy runs away to get a spot in the stands.

Draco and Harry share a smile and then head back into the locker rooms. 

Marcus gives them a pep talk and when he says, “Don't be afraid to play a little dirty because I doubt that Gryffindor is going to hold back,” Harry says, “That doesn’t mean cheat.” Marcus gives him an amused look, agrees, and continues.

They line up a few minutes later to walk onto the field. Harry gets a few claps on the shoulder and then they’re leaving the locker room.

Within seconds of taking flight, Harry is soaked to the bone and freezing. He can barely see even with his glasses charmed and almost gets hit in the face with the Quaffle every two seconds, but he manages. He makes three scores before a Bludger rams into his shoulder and sends him jeering off course. He straightens himself out, rolls his shoulder, and starts looking around to try and get a sense of direction. 

He catches sight of the stands and is about to turn around to get back in the game when he sees something. A black figure sitting innocently in the stands. He stares at it for a moment and just when it registers that it’s a giant dog staring directly at him, he hears the faint yell of his name. He looks over his shoulder and then back at the dog, only to see that it’s gone. Harry shakes his head and turns around, zooming back into the playing area.

Draco catches the Snitch in the end and in the celebration, Harry forgets the dog. Really, why does it matter anyway?

Chapter Text

“Are we going home for the holidays?” Harry asks at breakfast two weeks before term ends. When Malfoy Manor became home, he isn’t sure, but he’s not going to correct himself, not with the way it makes Draco smile.

“Yes, I think so,” Draco nods. “Don't really have a reason not to.”

Harry nods and continues eating. 

The two weeks pass by quickly and the last weekend of term comes, meaning another Hogsmeade trip that Harry gets to miss out on. 

He’s reading a copy of Which Broomstick in the common room that Saturday when Ginny marches up to him, grabs his wrists, and drags him out of the common room. Resigned to his fate, he allows this for a while.

Finally, after about five minutes, he says, “Where are we going?”

“Well, first, we’re visiting Hedwig,” Ginny says. “And then we’re going to find a portrait in a spot nobody ever visits and talk to them and learn their story.”

“Or — get this — I could sit in the common room and look at brooms.”

“Harry, just buy a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, you have enough money. And no! I can’t stand watching you mope around so I thought I’d do something about it. Don’t tell me you don’t want to visit Hedwig.”

“She’s mad at me!”

“Because you aren’t visiting her!”

And, well, Harry can’t argue with that.

They stay in the owlery with Hedwig for about fifteen minute and then head down to the third floor to look for a portrait. They’ve just passed by a statute of a one-eyed witch when they hear, “Psst — Harry!”

They both swing around. Peering out from behind the statue are Fred and George.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny hisses. “Go to Hogsmeade.”

“We are, don’t worry,” Fred hops fully into view, George following suit. “Wanted to give Harry an early Yule present. Run along, it doesn’t concern you.”

Ginny looks positively murderous.

“Or stand there and wait, we won’t take long,” George says. “Come along, Harry.”

Harry doesn’t get a choice, as Fred and George grab his wrists that were previously being held by Ginny and drag him into a classroom by the statue, shutting the door in Ginny’s face when she tries to follow. 

“Fuck you,” she says through the door.

“Language,” George chirps.

“What’s this about?” Harry raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. 

Fred places a piece of parchment into his hands.

“What the fuck is this?” 

“Merlin, you youngsters and your cursing,” George shakes his head.

“What is this?” Harry asks again.

“And your impatience.”

“George.”

George grins, “I apologize. This — Hazza — is the secret to our success.”

“It’s a wrench, giving to you,” Fred says.

“But your needs are greater than ours.”

“Are they?” Harry says.

“Yes, shut up,” Fred says. He taps the parchment with his wand and says, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The way the ink spreads across the parchment reminds him eerily of Riddle’s diary but he says nothing, watching is slight amazement as the words, ‘ Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present: The Marauders Map’ appears on the page.

“A map?”

“Of Hogwarts,” Fred grins. “Shows everyone —“

“ — where they are —“

“ — what they’re doing —“

“ — every minute —“

“ — of every day!”

“Brilliant,” Harry mutters. “Where’d you get it?”

“Nicked it from Filch’s office, of course,” Fred says. 

“And you’re just giving it to me?”

“We’ve memorized everything by now,” George shrugs. “Besides, we figure you might be responsible with it.”

“Right. Of course. Totally responsible.”

“Of course. Now, there’s seven passageways in total that lead to Hogsmeade. Filch knows about these four, but not these three. This one is caved in and this one has the Whomping Willow planted right over, so the only one you can go through is the one right behind that statue you just saw us jump out from,” Fred says. “You just tap the statue with your wand and say Dissendium and voila. And don’t forget to wipe it when you're done.”

“You just tap it with your wand and say Mischief Managed,” George says. “Otherwise anybody can read it.”

“Now, we should be on our way,” Fred says. “Have fun with our sister.”

“She’s always been a riot,” George says fondly.

“See you, Harry!”

The two boys leave the classroom. Harry stands there for a moment, looking at the map in fascination before saying quietly, “Mischief Managed,” and tapping it with his wand. The map goes blank at once and he easily folds it and tucks it into his robes.

Ginny attempts to interrogate him but when she realizes he’s not going to say anything, she huffs and shakes her head before dragging him all the way down the corridor and announcing the existence of Penelope Killian, a portrait of a very pretty woman hanging in the corner, pretty much out of sight. Ginny and Harry spend a few hours talking to her, and then they spend the last few hours of the Hogsmeade visit talking to Hadrian, a portrait on the fifth floor that managed to always bring the conversation back to the fact that he just doesn’t have a last name. They never learn the reason why, they just learn that it annoys Hadrian greatly. 

A few days later finds Harry and Draco back at Malfoy Manor and it mainly finds them on the Quidditch pitch near the house messing around. 

Yule arrives just as quickly as Yule break did and Harry wakes up to a long, thin package at the end of his bed, as well as his other presents. He automatically assumes it’s a broom. He’s reaching for the tape holding it together when Draco bursts in his room.

“Hands off the package, Harry,” he says immediately. “You open your presents with us like a family.”

“You’re insufferable,” Harry says as Draco scoops up the pile of presents and marches downstairs. Harry follows him.

Harry, as always, lets everyone open their presents first before they get to his.

“Open this last,” Draco says, holding the broomstick. “I have a feeling we’ll get distracted by it.”

Harry shakes his head but grabs a different present. It’s slightly lumpy and has a note attached to the front. He carefully takes it off the package and unfolds it.

Dear Harry,

I know Ron has given you a hard time the past two years and I wanted to apologize on his behalf and also thank you for looking after my Ginny. She has nothing but good things to say about you. I also apologize for my own behavior. I acted like a child and did inexcusable things. I hope you accept this gift as a show of my regret. 

Molly Weasley

“Well, that’s very mature,” Harry mumbles. “Mrs. Weasley has just apologized for her past behavior and thanked me for looking after her daughter.”

“As if,” Draco says.

“Yeah, Ginny was looking after you,” Pansy says.

“Okay, calm down, that was uncalled for,” he says, ripping open the package. 

“Just telling the truth,” Draco grins.

Harry rolls his eyes. He unfolds the sweater that was in the package. It’s emerald green with a tiny embroidered snake on the chest. It begins slithering around the sweater when Harry pokes it.

“Huh,” he mutters. “I didn’t know you could embed magic into this stuff, that’s cool.”

“She made you a sweater?” Draco says. “As an apology?”

“Jealous?”

“No, I just… that’s a lot of work to put in for you to not accept it.”

“Who said I wasn’t accepting it?”

“Ron literally saved your life and you haven’t even said thank you because you think he doesn’t deserve it,” Pansy says.

“Well, Ron did a lot more to me than his mother, so obviously I have to be a little petty when it comes to him to make him feel bad,” Harry says. “Honestly, Pansy.”

“Oh, sorry, my bad.”

“Besides, she is Ginny’s mum and apparently makes really good food, so I want the opportunity to visit their house to be on the table at some point,” Harry says. 

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair,” Draco nods.

Harry slips the sweater over his head. “And this is a very nice sweater.” Draco and Pansy laugh. 

He grabs Draco’s present and unwraps it. It’s a camera and Draco quickly launches into an explanation.

“It’s just been invented — you take a picture with that camera and you don’t have to use a potion to make them move, they do it automatically,” Draco says. “I thought you’d like some of your own photos in that album I got you.”

“Yeah… that’s awesome, Dray,” Harry smiles. Draco beams. He sets the camera aside and picks up Pansy’s present. He narrows his eyes. “Did you steal my bracelet again?”

“I don’t know, did I?”

He looks at his wrist. “How do you do that?”

“Magic,” she grins. Her parents laugh.

Harry rolls his eyes and unwraps her presents, pulling his bracelet out and reading the new word etched onto it. Honestly. He snorts.

“Can’t wait to see what it’ll be next year,” he says. 

Ginny’s present is, again, sweets, but Harry appreciates it just as much as the other two. 

“You’ve got one more present before we open this one,” Mrs. Malfoy says, gesturing to the broomstick. “Lucius.”

Mr. Malfoy reaches for something behind Mrs. Malfoy’s chair and then places it in Harry’s hands.

“Augusta Longbottom reached out to me,” Mrs. Malfoy tells him as he opens the gift bag and pulls out a stack of photos tied together. “She told me she found a photo album hidden behind Frank’s wardrobe. She took out all of the photos of Alice and Frank to give to Neville but there were plenty without them in it that she decided she would give to you. They all have captions on the back and dates and… I thought you would like to add them to your photo album.”

Harry carefully unties the rope around them and looks through a few of them, reading the captions.

Lily likes to pretend she doesn’t give James heart eyes so I took this photo as proof

Lily told Remus that if he loved James so much that he should just marry them so Remus kissed them. Sirius was not happy and neither was Lily

James Potter at their finest, ranting about how girls hid the wonders of skirts from boys for the millionth time. Lily is in love

Harry stops on the last one, looking at the picture with furrowed eyebrows. There’s his mother, Sirius, and Remus, and a girl. A girl who must be his father. He decides to ponder on that later and ties the photos up again. 

“Thank you,” he says. Mrs. Malfoy smiles. “So… broomstick time?”

“Broomstick time,” Draco says, grabbing it and handing it to Harry.

Harry quickly unwraps it and a gasp leaves him involuntarily when he sees it. He had expected a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, not a —

“A Firebolt,” Draco breathes. “Holy Merlin. Who bought you that?”

Harry looks for a note but doesn’t find one.

“It’s anonymous?” Pansy says, sounding slightly worried. 

Harry picks it up and lets go, laughing when it floats in midair in front of him.

“Who do you think sent it?” Draco asks, sounding amazed as he looks at it.

“I’ve no idea,” Harry says. “But I think I’m in love with them.”

Draco laughs and Harry grins.

“We should make sure it’s not jinxed or anything,” Pansy says. “Just to make sure it’s safe to ride.”

“You think?” Harry ducks down and places his head underneath it, still grinning. “Why would somebody jinx a broom?”

“You’d be surprised at the things people jinx,” Mr. Parkinson says. “I agree. I can look it over for you. I’ll get it back to you by tomorrow at the latest.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Harry nods, straightening up. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. None at all.”

OoOo

Harry, after a few days of staring at the picture of his dad as a girl, decides to do some research. 

This finds him in the library reading about the term genderfluid. Draco finds him.

“Harry! There you are. Wanna come play a Seeker’s Match with me? Father just bought a new… what are you reading?”

“Did you know this was a thing? People who want to be a girl one day and a boy another and sometimes, they don’t want to be either?” Harry says. 

“No… why? Have something to tell me, Haz?”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “I think my dad was… this. Genderfluid. Half those pictures your mum gave me are him — er, them, I suppose — dressed as a girl and… transfigured to look like one.”

“Huh,” Draco says. “Interesting. Anyway — wanna play?”

“No,” Harry mumbles. “Not right now.”

“Okay. I’ll come get you for dinner, then.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Chapter Text

When school starts again, the first thing Harry does is march over to Marcus with his Firebolt, smiling smugly.

“Finally bought yourself a broom? Nice — holy shit, is that a Firebolt?” 

The next thing he does is grab a picture of his dad — James wanted to show me their new fishnets and I accidentally caught Lily checking them out — and take it to Lupin.

He knocks once on Lupin's office door before he enters. He says nothing as he walks up to Lupin desk, even when Lupin says, “Harry! How are you?” He places the picture on Lupin’s desk and steps back.

“What’s this — oh,” Lupin’s good natured smile falls quickly. He stares at the picture for a moment before turning it over and reading the words written on the back.

“Lady Longbottom found a photo album behind her son’s wardrobe,” Harry explains. “She took out the ones of Neville’s parents to give to him and then gave me the rest. I did some research because I was too curious not to but I want you to tell me if I got it right.”

Lupin nods slowly, “Okay.”

“The term is Genderfluid, isn’t it?” 

He nods.

“And my dad…”

“James was Genderfluid, yes,” Lupin says quietly. 

Harry sits down, thinking hard. 

“What are you thinking right now?” Lupin asks, setting the picture down on his desk.

“Honestly? What I would’ve called… them.”

Lupin huffs a laugh. “Dad. They always said that. No matter what they felt like that day, they were your dad.”

Harry nods. With his mind still on his dad, he changes the subject. “I forgive you.”

“What?” Lupin looks startled. “You forgive me? What did I do?”

“You didn’t raise me,” Harry says. “But I forgive you, because I know you feel guilty. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t raise me, the Ministry…”

Lupin leans back in his chair, “Who told you?”

Harry looks at the ground, “Mr. Malfoy. And Mrs. Malfoy. They told me everything.”

“Everything?”

“Sirius is my godfather… you were supposed to raise me if Sirius couldn’t… that the Ministry deemed you unfit to care for me because of something you can’t control…”

“And what else?”

“I can’t say.”

“Yes, you can. I won’t say anything to anybody, I just want to know.”

Harry stares at him and after a long thirty seconds, he decides that he’s being sincere.

“Sirius wasn’t the Secret Keeper,” he says. “Peter was. They switched. Sirius didn’t sell my parents out, Peter did. But… well, we still don’t know if Sirius actually killed all those people, but… he didn’t sell my parents out to Voldemort.”

“They switched,” Lupin says quietly. “Of course. Of course they switched and didn’t tell me.”

“You really didn’t know?”

“Prejudice… got to them in the end,” Lupin says. “It was easier to imagine I was the spy than Peter or Sirius. Sirius would never and they didn’t think Peter would be capable. That left me, the werewolf working with other werewolves.”

“They thought it was you?” 

“It was somebody,” Lupin says. “And… people were dying left and right, it was pretty much down to us four at the end. Like I said, it was just easier. I don’t blame them. I thought it was Sirius. Lily thought it was Sirius too. James, Sirius, and Peter thought it was me, though. Well… I guess not Peter.”

“Oh,” Harry mumbles. 

“Thank you,” Lupin says. “For… forgiving me. You’re right, I do feel guilty. I know how horrible Petunia and Vernon are, I tried to convince the Ministry that nobody could be worse than them, but… they wouldn’t listen.”

“I know,” Harry says. “It’s not your fault. Thank you for telling me about my dad,” he stands up and grabs the picture off of Lupin’s desk. “If you ever have time, I’d like to hear more stories. I have a lot of pictures, you might enjoy telling me the backstories.”

“Maybe. You’re welcome to come in here anytime, Harry. My door is always open. For you, at least.”

Harry grins. “I’ll see you next class, then.”

Lupin waves and Harry leaves his office, smiling.

OoOo

“Harry.”

Harry, who was in the middle of scolding a group of Slytherins and Gryffindors for fighting, turns around. Lupin looks at the scene curiously but doesn’t ask, instead saying, “Would you mind following me?”

“One moment,” Harry turns back around. “Do I make myself clear?”

“You aren’t going to last very long if you keep coming to Gryffindor’s rescue,” one of the Slytherins, Harry believes his name is Darius Berrow, says.

The other two Slytherins smirk.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not care if they are Gryffindors,” Harry says. “I would be doing this even if they were Hufflepuffs. Fighting is unacceptable, no matter who it’s with. And it would do you good to remember how good of terms I’m on with Marcus.”

“Yeah, we all know you’d drop to your knees anytime for him.”

Harry lets out a bark of laughter, “Oh, you are going to regret that.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Harry resists to urge to go back on everything he just said and punch the kid in the face. “Just go your separate ways. I don’t want to hear about another fight.”

He turns around and walks away, Lupin quickly following him and beginning to lead him to where he wants to go.

“So, what was that about?” Lupin asks conversationally.

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Harry mumbles, still fuming. “What did you want me for?”

“Ah, no, you’re not getting out of that so easily,” Lupin says. “You were scolding them. Why do you care?”

“Because nobody else does.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s the truth. They were fighting right in the middle of the corridor and nobody was going to stop them, so I did.”

“Right. Of course. And… what did what I heard mean?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’m a professor. And because nobody else does.”

Harry scoffs, shaking his head.

“I heard that you are Year Ruler.”

Harry stops walking. 

“Gotcha,” Lupin stops as well, stepping in front of Harry.

“How do you know about that?”

“Contrary to what they’ll have you believe, Gryffindors have been involved with Slytherin politics before,” Lupin says. “I was part of that. So was James. Marcus Flint is King, I presume, which makes the… joke make sense.”

“So what if I am?” Harry brushes past Lupin to keep walking. Lupin follows him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to you. It matters a lot to you,” Lupin says. “I can see that it does. You take it very seriously.”

“You didn’t come fetch me to talk about my being a Year Ruler. Where are we going?”

Lupin is quiet for a moment before he says, “The History of Magic classroom. I found another boggart.”

“What?”

“I want to give you an opportunity to banish one.”

Harry ponders this thought as they continue walking. How could he possibly turn his fear into something amusing?

Lupin lets him think for a long time, but eventually — after they’ve entered the classroom — he interrupts his thought process.

“How about,” he says softly, “we see what it turns into before we decide how to make it funny?”

Harry slowly nods.

Lupin heaves a suitcase onto Professor Binns’ desk. “You ready?”

Harry nods again.

Lupin opens the case and stands back. Out of it pops the full moon first, but Harry steps forward and it quickly changes. It doesn’t change into his cupboard as he previously thought it would, it changes into his toys. Broken toy soldiers and horses. 

Harry stares at them for a long moment before he quietly but firmly says, “Riddikulus.”

The toys come to life, the soldiers hopping on the horses and beginning to gallop around the floor. Lupin steps forward again and very quickly forces the boggart back into the suitcase before turning to Harry, slightly confused.

“You said you were afraid of being locked up.”

“I am,” Harry says. “The toys — they were what I played with, back when I was locked up. It’s not scary, it just symbolizes my being locked up.”

“Harry, what do you mean? You were locked up? When?”

“I don’t know, my whole childhood?” Harry mutters. “It doesn’t matter —“

“Stop saying that,” Lupin says gently but firmly. “It does matter. Everything matters. Harry… perhaps — perhaps if you told the Ministry how unfit Petunia and Vernon are to care for you, they might listen.”

“And what, I’ll move in with you and we’ll live happily ever after? The end? It’s not that easy, Lupin.”

“I know it’s not that easy, but there are ways to get you out of the situation you’re in. You’re friends with Draco and Lucius likes you, and I have no doubt that Narcissa would raise hell if she knew exactly what you’ve been through. I can speak to Dumbledore and Lucius can help you talk to the Ministry. There are ways to do this, Harry. Ways to get you the life you deserve. Or at least a better one than you have now.”

“It’s Dumbledore’s fault I’m with the Dursleys, he probably won’t listen to reason,” Harry says. “And besides, my life doesn’t suck now.”

“Maybe not but would you rather spend your summers with the Dursleys or with me and the Malfoys?” 

“That’s obvious.”

“Then we’ll work that out. Give me a week to talk to Dumbledore before you go to Lucius. If I can convince Dumbledore to help, you may not have to owl Lucius at all, but if I can’t, we’ll have Lucius help. Okay?”

Harry sighs, “Okay. Yeah. That’s… okay.”

Chapter Text

“So people really think you’re dropping to your knees for me?” Flint’s amused voice says into Harry’s ear a few nights later. The common room is mostly empty by this time of night. Draco is upstairs trying to learn household charms from an exasperated Blaise, last Harry checked, and Pansy is in a corner across from Harry with Ginny, talking in a low voice about something with her.

“Apparently,” Harry says without taking his eyes off the fire. “All because I told them to stop fighting with Gryffindors, isn’t that hilarious?”

“Quite,” Flint says, dropping onto the spot next to Harry. “I did make them regret it, by the way.”

“Oh, good.”

“You have something on your mind.”

“I always have something on my mind.”

“Well, obviously. What is it this time, though?”

“Nothing, currently,” Harry lies. He can’t stop thinking about how quickly Lupin decided he wants Harry to move in with him after learning he doesn't have a good home life. “Nothing of importance. I did learn, though, that Lupin used to be involved with Slytherin politics, as well as my dad. I thought Gryffindors weren’t allowed to be a part of it.”

“Huh. Well, I didn’t know they ever were,” Flint says. “That’s interesting. I might ask my dad about that, I bet he knows some stuff. Anyway — I actually wanted to continue talking about that whole ‘you dropping to your knees’ thing, because it’s not very good for your image.”

“Yes, I know,” Harry says. “But what can I do about it? Tell them I don’t? That’ll just spur them on.”

“I didn’t mean with the Slytherins,” Flint says. “Those three — they said that in front of three Gryffindors and you didn’t deny it.”

“Well, I don’t particularly care what the other Houses think of me, Flint,” Harry says.

“You really want to deal with everybody talking about it?”

“I don’t care. They can talk about whatever they please. As long as I still have my third years’ respect, I don’t care.”

Flint stares at Harry, the now familiar impressed look on his face. “Well… everyday you continue to surprise me. Hope whatever you have on your mind works out.”

“Yeah,” Harry looks back at the fire. “Me too.”

OoOo

“Harry, can I see you for a moment?” Lupin calls when the bell rings.

Harry quickly heads up to his desk after telling Draco and Pansy to wait for him outside.

“Oh no,” Harry says. “You’ve got a look on your face — you couldn’t convince him, could you?”

Lupin sighs, “I… I honestly don’t know what to say, Harry. I expected better from Dumbledore but… I’m shocked.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles. “But no, not really, actually, I’m not very shocked. I knew something was off with him at the end of my first year. I kept flinching when he called me ‘boy’ and he looked… amused.”

Remus looks disgusted at this but quickly moves on, most likely trying to ignore the newly found feelings he has for Dumbledore. “Getting Lucius to help you won’t be hard. Getting him to allow me to care for you might be.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Harry muses. “He thinks of me like his second son. He may not be happy about it but if I can convince him that I’ll be happy about it, he might change his mind. And besides, you don’t owl Mr. Malfoy, you owl his wife. That’s how you get through to him.”

Remus huffs a laugh, “Right. Okay. You can send a letter to Narcissa, then, and get back to me when you have a response.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

Remus hums, “Maybe. Do you want a personal project?”

“Huh? Me? For what?”

“For… no reason other than my own curiously of the extent of your magical power,” Lupin smiles. “The Patronus Charm. Research it and write me a summary of what it is and it’s uses. After that, you’ll practice it.”

“The Patronus Charm,” Harry mutters. “Okay. Personal project. Cool.”

Harry leaves Lupin’s classroom and joins his friends again.

“What was that about?” Draco asks. “Or are you still not telling us?”

“We’re trying to arrange a new living situation for me,” Harry says happily. “Dumbledore refused — as I expected he would — so now I’m going to owl your mum to try and get her to convince your dad to help me persuade the ministry to let me live with Lupin. Remus? Whatever.”

“Oh,” Draco says. “I did not expect that. That’s… good?”

“It’s wonderful,” Harry grins. “That and he gave me a personal project. He wants to teach me the Patronus Charm for, and I quote ‘no other reason than my own curiosity of the extent of your magical power,’ end quote.”

“Oh, really? Do you even know what a Patronus is?” Pansy says.

Before Harry can tell her that he doesn’t, a little group of Gryffindor appears next to them, talking quietly but loud enough for them to hear.

“I thought for sure Hermione was going to pull out her wand and give him a good hex,” one says. “God, he deserves one. Crookshanks is a sweetheart, he really is, and cats hunt rats! It’s what they do!”

“Okay, but his rat was his pet, Anita,” another one says. “How would you feel if my owl killed your rabbit?”

“Yeah, sure, Lisa, but there was no need to come running downstairs screaming about it,” a boy says. “I understand he was upset but honestly, I don’t care.”

“That’s rude, Michael,” Lisa says. “Besides, Scabbers was a sweetheart too. And so is Ron!”

“Oh, you have a crush on him, it doesn’t count what you think!” Anita says. 

“I don’t have a crush on him! And if I have a crush on Ron, then you like Neville,” Lisa says.

“Neville is so whipped for Hannah Abbott, you wouldn’t stand a chance in a million years,” Michael says.

“Michael!” the two girls exclaim. 

“Sounds like the Lions are having fun,” Draco mutters. “I didn’t even know Granger had a cat.”

“Crookshanks?” Harry mumbles, thinking back to one of the pictures he got from Lady Longbottom. James has a cat, apparently. His name is Crookshanks and Sirius has never looked so hurt and betrayed. Remus is more in love with James than ever before.

“I agree,” Pansy says, sniffing. “He deserves a good hex.”

Harry momentarily forgets his dilemma — Hermione Granger has his dad’s old cat! — to laugh. “Yes, he certainly does, doesn’t he?”

OoOo

Slytherin wins the next Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, Harry’s Firebolt being a spectacle throughout the entire game. Lee Jordan, despite being extremely Gryffindor, seems absolutely delighted to see one in action.

The day after, though, Harry notices how alert the professors seem. He only learns why halfway through the day when he hears some Hufflepuffs talking about it. Sirius Black breaking into Gryffindor tower and trying to kill Ron. Harry goes directly to the source for the full story, Ginny, Pansy, and Draco close behind.

“Ronald,” he says, calmly but firmly. Ron, who was in the middle of dramatically telling the story to some first year Ravenclaws spins around, grinning. “You seem awfully delighted to have almost been murdered. Tell me what happened, will you? Without all the extra flare.”

The first years pout and scamper off.

Ron sighs, still overdramatic, “Well, Fred and George managed to get a bunch of sweets and stuff and had the whole common room up late, so —“

“Yes, yes, just get to the part where Sirius Black almost killed you, I don’t care.”

Ron glares at him, “I am. I was only asleep for a few hours and I woke up to my curtains ripping. When I lit my lamp, I saw Sirius Black standing over me with a knife. I screamed — obviously, why wouldn’t you scream in that situation — and he ran off. Well, I heard a pop and saw a shadow move, but he was gone, so I assume he ran off.”

“A pop? What, like apparation?” Ginny says.

“No,” Ron shakes his head, searching his mind for something to compare the pop to. “I don’t know, like the sound we heard when Professor McGonagall was showing us that she was an animagus.”

Ron connects the dots at the same time Harry does.

“He’s an animagus?” Harry breathes.

“That’s how he got into the castle,” Ron says. “The dementors!”

“They wouldn’t recognize an animal as him —“

“— because his emotions wouldn’t be the same! Oh, that’s — that's brilliant,” Ron says. 

“He escaped Azkaban like that, no doubt,” Harry mumbles. “An unregistered animagi. I would’ve never guessed that. It really is brilliant.”

“Oh, you’re bonding over this, that’s what’s happening,” Ginny says. “It took Ron almost getting murdered for you to come around?”

“Well, he did deserve to be humbled like that,” Harry says. Ron makes a noise of protest but doesn’t actually argue. “I need to do something.” He hesitates slightly before he says, “Thank you. For… saving my life and worrying about me this year. It… does mean a lot.”

He turns and walks away before Ron can say something. 

He’s out of sight before he hears his friends get out of their shock and start walking, so he speeds up in hopes of losing them so he can talk to Lupin by himself. This works, amazingly. 

He doesn’t even knock when he reaches Lupin's office, just enters and shuts the door behind him.

“An animagus,” he says. “It’s brilliant, I never would’ve guessed. It’s how he escaped Azkaban, how he got past the dementors, how he got into Hogwarts. It’s something big, obviously, because he did a lot of damage to the Gryffindor portrait hole, something big with claws, I wonder —“

“A dog,” Lupin interrupts. “A big, black dog. You’d mistake it for the Grim from afar, but he’s actually just a mangy looking Golden Retriever. James always wanted to give him baths and groom him but Sirius hated water as a dog — not counting the numerous times he jumped into the lake.”

“A dog?” Harry repeats. “A big, black dog. I saw a big, black dog at my first Quidditch match. He was sitting in the stands, he was watching me. He was watching me…”

“Well, he always did have a penchant for the dramatics,” Lupin says quietly.

“So, he has been on the grounds longer than everybody assumed. I thought so. But if he was watching me… he would’ve seen my robes, my Slytherin robes, and yet he still broke into Gryffindor tower and attacked Ron. Why? Why Ron?”

“Not Ron, something Ron has, I assume,” Lupin says. “Sirius wouldn’t be doing this without a motive. What his motive is, I do not know, but… he has one and it’s got something to do with Ron and one of his possessions.”

Harry drops into one of the chairs in front of Lupin’s desk. “Was Sirius the only animagus?”

“No,” Lupin says. “Your dad and Peter, they were too. They figured out that humans can’t help a werewolf during the full moon, but animals can. So, they became animagi… just for me, just to help… me. James, he was a stag. A beautiful one, very picturesque. Peter was a rat.”

“A rat?” Harry says. He gasps, “Crookshanks. Oh my god…”

“What? Crookshanks? What does he have to do with this?”

“He’s Hermione’s cat!” Harry jumps up. “And Scabbers — oh that’s brilliant! And horrible, but so brilliant! Thank you, Remus, thank you!”

With that, Harry rushes out of Lupin’s — he supposes he’s Remus now — office and begins his search for the two Lions in question. 

He never does, though. Ron seems to not even be in the castle, and when he begins searching for Granger (Hermione?), he finds that she seems to not be in the castle either. 

The next time he sees them, it’s dinner, and he can't very well stand up and march over to the Gryffindor table, no matter how important this is. His argument is that Ron is no longer sleeping with Scabbers and that’s good enough for now, but Harry still needs to actually talk to him. 

Of course, nothing is ever that easy. The next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend and, after a long time debating with himself, Harry grabs the Marauders Map and his Invisibility Cloak and begins his trek to the one-eyed witch statue. 

He gets there quickly enough and looks around for anybody coming on the map before he taps the statue with his wand and mutters, “Dissendium.”

He squeezes himself inside and begins walking quickly. The passage seems to go on forever but, at long last, he emerges into what must be the cellar of Honeydukes after about an hour. Or at least what felt like an hour. He quickly throws his cloak over himself and waits until somebody opens the door of the cellar to slip out. He has to weave in and out of students carefully so as to not run into any of them, but he eventually manages to stumble out of the shop and onto the busy street. From there, he begins his search. The post office, Zonko’s, the Three Broomsticks, even back at Honeydukes. Begrudgingly, he climbs up to the Shrieking Shack and this is where he hits gold. 

He finds Ron staring up at the shack in curiosity, alone — thankfully. He’s just about to take the cloak off his head to get Ron’s attention, but voices stop him.

“I’m worried about him, y’know?” he hears Pansy’s voice say. “I think he might be getting his hopes up.”

“Don’t be silly, Pansy,” Draco’s voice says. “My father is nothing if not determined. He won’t stop at a simple no, and neither will my mother.”

“Of course,” Pansy mumbles. “But it’s not just that. This Sirius Black thing and all the rumors spreading about him —“

“They aren’t true!” Draco says, not commenting on the Sirius thing.

“I know they aren’t true, but people think they are, and really, people thinking that you’re — you have some perverted relationship with a professor is horrible, no matter if it’s true or not.”

Harry’s lip curls. It's bad enough that people think he’s giving Flint sexual favors so that Flint talks him up to people but Remus? Harry might puke.

“Weasley,” Draco says, surprised. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your way,” Ron says. “And I won’t say anything about any of that.”

“Right. You better not. I don’t think he’d be happy to know we’re talking about him without him here.”

Harry almost laughs at the irony. And the fact that he certainly wouldn’t be happy, but it’s not like he didn’t expect his friends to not talk about him when he wasn’t around. 

“Right,” Ron says, awkwardly side stepping to get away from them. 

“Hey, I think he wants to talk to you,” Pansy says. “Harry, that is. Find him when you get back to the castle, yeah?”

“Yeah. I will.”

With that, Ron turns around and heads back down the hill. Harry stands there a moment longer, watching his friends, before he quickly follows Ron. When he finally catches up to the boy at the bottom of the hill, he grabs his wrist and drags him away from peering eyes.

“What the — who’s there? Let me go!”

“Shut up,” Harry hisses. “It’s me,” he stops behind a tree and removes the cloak. “See?”

“You have an Invisibility Cloak?” Ron breathes. 

“It was my dad’s. Look, I found out something, and I need you to listen and not interrupt. You can tell me your protests afterward.”

“Oh — okay, I guess.”

Harry launches into an explanation. How he found out that Sirius really is an animagus and that Crookshanks was probably helping him get into the castle because he knows who Sirius is. How Crookshanks knew that Scabbers wasn’t as he seemed because he knows who Scabbers really is. Harry is breathing heavily by the end of it and more than a little happy to have finally gotten that off his chest.

“You… what… Scabbers? Pettigrew?”

“I know, it’s insane. I know. But the only evidence of Pettigrew’s death was a single finger and nothing else and honestly? I don’t believe that the spell Sirius used to blow up that street would have completely obliterated Pettigrew like that. If it left behind a street full of muggles… why would it have only left behind Pettigrew’s finger?”

Ron is getting increasingly more horrified the more he believes it. 

“Oh Merlin,” he mumbles, beginning to look a little green. “Did I let a grown man sleep in my bed for three years? Fuck, Percy…”

Harry grimaces. Of course, he did think about that, but he also didn’t think about how it might affect Ron to actually hear it. 

“It’s still not a confirmed thing,” Harry says in an attempt at comfort. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it? As to why Crookshanks would be so adamant about attacking Scabbers… he’s a half-kneazle. Even if he wasn’t my dad’s cat, he still would’ve known. And… and really, Ron, would a non-magical rat live for twelve years?”

“Proof,” Ron says. “You need — we need proof. But Scabbers is dead…”

“Is he? Or did he fake his death again to get away from Sirius?” 

“He broke in to get to Scabbers,” Ron mumbles. “But how? How did he know?”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbles. “Look, just… keep an eye out for him. He may actually be dead, but he may not be. And for god's sake, if you do find him and that cat tries something, just let him. Pettigrew deserves it.”

Ron looks startled. “You know something else. Tell me.”

“It really doesn’t matter —”

“You care too much,” Ron says. “And I… I heard that Black’s your godfather, that he… he’s the reason your parents are dead. You must be angry, why aren’t you going after Black? Why are you going after Scabbers — er — Pettigrew?”

“Because Sirius didn’t sell my parents out, Pettigrew did,” Harry grits. “Okay? I don’t know if he killed all those people or not but he isn’t the reason my parents are dead. I’d like to find both of them, but finding Pettigrew is my top priority currently. Just — promise me you’ll help me? Promise me you’ll keep a look out?”

Slowly, Ron nods. 

“Thank you,” Harry mumbles. “I need to get back to the school, Ginny’s probably looking for me. Don’t tell anybody you saw me, got it?”

“Yeah. Got it.”

Harry nods once and throws the cloak back over himself, setting off toward Honeydukes. However he thought this day would go, it certainly wasn’t like this.

Chapter Text

“The Patronus Charm,” Harry places the parchment on Remus’ desk.

“Ah, I was afraid you forgot in the chaos of your latest epiphany,” Remus grins, taking the parchment. 

“Well, I didn’t. And once again, thank you for making that epiphany happen, it really… cleared some things up,” Harry says. “I want to practice this. Can we?”

“Not now,” Remus says. “The History of Magic classroom, eight o’clock.”

Harry nods. He turns around to leave but suddenly remembers something and turns around, grinning, “Did you know that people think we have some perverted relationship going on?”

Remus chokes.

“People are obsessed with sexualing me and everything I do, it’s kind of weird. Have a good day, Remus!” he chirps, turning on his heel and practically skipping out of the classroom. He hears Remus make a strangled noise behind him and laughs to himself.

OoOo

“Happy thoughts, Harry,” Remus says. “Remember, it doesn’t have to be a memory, so to say, just something that makes you feel happy. Brings you joy. Think about it — what would be easier in the midst of battle, thinking of a memory that made you extremely happy or thinking thoughts that bring you joy?”

“Thoughts. You don’t have to dig deep, it’s just there,” Harry says.

“Exactly. Have you got one?”

Harry nods.

“All right. Give it a go.”

Remus steps back and Harry takes a deep breath.

“Expecto Patronum!” Nothing happens. “Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!”

The last one produces a wisp of something and Harry grins, looking at Remus.

“That was good,” Remus says. “Spectacular for someone your age. Keep trying, you might get a shield today.”

Harry continues practice for about an hour and finally manages to make a shield that he can keep up for more than ten seconds. Remus sends him to bed not long after that, saying, “I would let you stay in my quarters so you don’t have to walk far, but people think we have a perverted relationship going on.” Harry laughs at that and Remus shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘little shit.’ Harry tells him that if it’s in his heart to just say it. Remus ignores him.

OoOo

The Quidditch Final is extremely stressful. Gryffindor had ended up winning their games against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, putting them at second place and placing them as Slytherin’s opponent in the final. It’s the most nerve-wracking and intense game of Quidditch Harry has ever played and in the end, they win. Seeing the absolutely devastated look on Oliver Wood’s face only had Harry feeling bad for about ten seconds before he saw the Quidditch Cup and all thoughts about Gryffindor left his mind. The party that night was the most rowdy one Slytherin has thrown in Harry’s three years at Hogwarts.

Exams are fast approaching after the Quidditch Final and Harry is very studiously making sure he’s going to stay at third place in the rankings. That, or pass Draco. 

Harry’s first exam is Potions, which he does well in but his Confusing Concoction was a bit too runny, which took his grade down a few notches.

After that it's Astronomy, then History of Magic, then Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Remus has set up an obstacle course for them and Harry passes with flying colors. After that, he has Arithmancy and Runes, which he’s also confident he passed with flying colors. Judging by some of the complaints about the Divination exam Harry hears after his last exams of Runes, he’s extremely glad to have not taken the class. Divination is, in Harry’s mind, very much bullshit.

Later that night, Harry has just left the castle with a disgruntled Draco under his cloak with him when he sees Ron and Hermione standing a little ways away from the doors. He pulls the cloak off, his original plan of going to lay by the lake and watching the stars with Draco quickly forgotten. Ron looks up and Harry sees his eyes widen.

“Harry!”

Harry sets off down the stairs and Draco follows quickly.

“Harry,” Ron says when Harry stops in front of him. “I found him. Well, Hermione did, but that doesn’t matter. He was hiding in Hagrid’s house.”

He thrusts his hand out to show a rat, one who is scrambling with all his might to get away from the person holding him. 

“Scabbers?” Harry says slowly.

Ron nods.

“Professor McGonagall,” Harry says. “Or — Remus! Remus will recognize him! Quickly!”

But almost as soon as they begin running back to the castle, Harry catches sight of something running toward them. Harry pulls out his wand but the dog isn’t going for him, instead for Ron. Specifically, the rat in his hand. 

“Ron, watch out!” Harry shouts, but too late. The dog has latched his jaw around Ron’s arm, forcing him to drop Scabbers. Ron lets out a yell of pain and attempts to kick the dog off of him, but this just makes him lose his balance. He falls to the ground and the dog begins dragging him like a ragdoll.

“Ron!” Hermione screams, running after him. Harry quickly follows.

“What the hell is going on?” Draco says loudly, running with Harry and Hermione.

“Not a good time, Draco!” Harry says. “Lumos!”

Harry’s wand lights up just in time to catch sight of a branch swinging dangerously past him. He jumps back and grabs Hermione and Draco’s arms, forcing them to step back too.

“The Whomping Willow,” he says. He sees the dog — Sirius? — dragging Ron into an opening at the base of the trunk. “There’s a tunnel…”

“We’ve gotta go for help,” Hermione says.

“If the dog can get through, we can too,” Harry says. There’s a loud crack and Harry sees Ron’s foot vanish from sight. His leg must’ve just snapped from the force of the dog dragging him down the tunnel. “There’s gotta be something…”

Something darts past Harry. It slithers past the swinging branches like a snake and then places its front paws on a knot at the base of the tree. Crookshanks.

“How did he —?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry rushes forward, quickly sliding down the tunnel. Crookshanks comes after him and then Hermione and Draco slither down as well.

“What the hell are we doing, Harry?” Draco hisses as they begin walking.

“This passage goes to Hogsmeade,” Harry says instead of answering. “I don’t know where but it’s somewhere.”

“How do you know that?” 

“I just do! Shut up, please, I’m thinking,” Harry says.

“Oh, you’re thinking, which you clearly didn’t do when we slid down a tunnel leading to merlin knows where —”

“Draco!”

Draco shuts his mouth, scowling.

Harry has about two options when he reaches wherever they’re going. He can confess to Sirius and Pettigrew everything he knows about them and ask for the full truth or he can join Sirius in attempting to commit the murder he was imprisoned for twelve years ago. Harry thinks the choice shouldn’t be as hard as it is.

After what feels like an eternity of walking, they come across a small opening. They all squeeze through with their wands raised, ready to defend themselves. 

“Harry,” Hermione suddenly whispers as they move toward the stairs, “Harry, I think this is the Shrieking Shack.”

Harry looks around. “Ghosts don’t do this.”

There’s a creak overhead.

“C’mon, quickly,” Harry steps onto the stairs.

Quietly, the three of them creep up the stairs. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust except for the floor, where a shiny streak is gleaming in the wandlight, clearly made by Ron’s body being dragged up the stairs. 

They reach a dark land and all simultaneously extinguish their wandlights before tiptoeing to the only open door at the end of the hall. They all stop outside the door. There’s a movement behind it and then a loud purring and a low moan. Harry glances at Hermione and Draco before he kicks the door open and rushes in. 

Sitting on a magnificent four-poster is Crookshanks, purring happily, and on the ground next to him is Ron, clutching his leg that is sticking out at a weird angle. 

“Ron!” Hermione squeaks, running over. “Are you okay? Where’s that dog?”

“Not a dog,” Ron grits. “Not a — behind you, Harry.”

Harry swings around, wand raised. The door they entered through closes with a snap to reveal what can only be Sirius Black, though he certainly looks much different than the pictures Harry has of him.

“Expelliarmus!”

Three wands fly into the air and with the skills of a Seeker, Sirius catches all three with one hand. Harry’s mind, unnecessarily, reminds him that Sirius was actually a Beater.

“Where is he?” Harry says before Sirius can start talking or, god forbid, monologuing. Sirius looks shocked and doesn’t answer. “WHERE IS HE?”

“Here!” Ron says. 

Harry swings back around. The sudden rage taking over him would shock him in any other situation but he feels it’s justified in this one. 

Ron holds his hand out. Harry grabs Pettigrew, scowling as he turns back around to face Sirius, dangling Pettigrew by his tail.

“Yeah. I know all about it,” Harry says. “How you switched, how it was this piece of shit that got my parents killed. But you can’t kill him.”

“How do you —”

“I’m talking!” Harry yells. Sirius shuts his mouth, now glaring at Harry. “You can’t kill him. Not yet, not ever. The only way to prove you’re innocent is to keep him alive. Do you understand? You can’t win anything if he’s dead. You will be a guilty man for the rest of your life if you kill him.”

Sirius straightens his back, looking down his nose at Harry. “Yes. I understand… Harry.”

“Good,” Harry says. “Make him change back and tie him up. We’ll go to Professor McGonagall.”

“Dumbledore —”

“Dumbledore,” Harry starts loudly, once again shocking Sirius into silence, “would rather I stay in the home a man who used to rape me than live with Remus. We’re going to Professor McGonagall.”

“Used to —”

“Draco!”

Draco closes his mouth.

“Can somebody explain what this is?” Hermione demands.

“Sirius didn’t do it,” Harry says without looking at her. “Peter Pettigrew did. They’re animagi. This rat — it’s Pettigrew.”

“Peter Pettigrew is dead.”

“Peter Pettigrew is alive and quite fucking well!” Harry shouts. He shoves his hand in Hermione’s face and she backs up, glaring at him. “Ever wonder why your cat wanted to kill him so bad? Well, now you know.”

Crookshanks meows, almost as if he’s agreeing.

He looks back at Sirius, “I told you to do something. Move.”

Sirius quickly crosses the room and seizes Pettigrew from Harry. He shoves Harry, Hermione, and Draco’s wands in Harry’s hand and then uses Ron’s to do the spellwork. He walks back across the room and places Pettigrew on the ground, stomping his foot on his tail when he tries to run. He waves Ron’s wand and mumbles something under his breath and, before their very eyes, the rat on the floor begins to transform back into Peter Pettigrew.

Ron lets out a gag that seems to be long overdue and scrambles to aim his vomit away from Hermione, Draco, and Harry. Harry tightens his grip on the three wands in his hand before he shoves them into Draco’s chest.

“Wha —”

“I’m going to hurt him if I keep those in my hand.”

Draco takes the wands with no complaints. 

“Hello, Peter,” Sirius says pleasantly. “Long time no see.”

“Tie him up,” Harry grits. “Gag him — I don’t want to hear him.”

Sirius looks at Harry with a strange look before doing as he’s asked. 

“I don’t understand,” Hermione says. “How… how is this even possible?”

“He faked his death, of course,” Sirius scowls. “Blew up a street of muggles, cut his finger off, then he transformed and ran off. I was… a mess, otherwise I would’ve run too. All of this could’ve been avoided if I didn’t go after him…”

“Why did you say it was your fault, then?” Draco asks. “Why act guilty when you weren’t?”

“Because I essentially did kill them, James and Lily,” Sirius says quietly. “I was the one to suggest the switch. I suggested Peter be the Secret Keeper. If I hadn’t done that… they would still be alive.”

“Being in hiding for the rest of your life is no way to live,” Harry says. Sirius looks at him, shocked. “I would’ve never gone to Hogwarts, I would’ve never stepped foot outside of that house. My parents wouldn’t want me to live like that. Of course, they wouldn’t want me to live the way I have been either but being confined to that one house for my entire life… I think it would’ve killed them to keep me locked up. Besides… I don’t think there was a way that war ended without them dying.”

Sirius stares at him disbelievingly before huffing a laugh, “You are nothing if not your father’s son. Ever the pessimist, he was.”

Harry shrugs before his face hardens again, “We need to get him to the castle.”

“Right.”

“Hermione, Draco, you can help Ron,” Harry says. “I’ll help Sirius with Pettigrew. Give me my wand.”

Draco hands him it and then hands Hermione hers before the two of them help Ron to his feet.

“I have him,” Sirius says. “You make sure he doesn’t put any weight on that leg.”

Harry walks back over to his friends.

Draco looks at him tiredly, “You’re telling me how you knew where this passage led. I think I deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Ron breathes. “How is the fuck did you manage to get to Hogsmeade that time?”

“You went to Hogsmeade?” Draco demands.

“Yup,” Harry says as they follow Sirius, who is levitating Pettigrew’s writhing body, out of the bedroom. “I heard you and Pansy say that you think I’ve got my hopes up and that everybody thinks I’ve got a perverted relationship going on with Remus.”

“I did not say that, Pansy said that,” Draco immediately defends himself. “And everybody does. How did you even —?”

“I bet I can answer that,” Sirius says over his shoulder.

“Huh?” Harry says. “Oh, don’t tell me you were stalking me inside my dorm, too?”

“I was not stalking you, I was merely observing you,” Sirius says. “And no, I didn’t enter your dorm at any point this year. I only entered Ron’s.”

“Well, if you hadn’t, Harry wouldn’t have figured out you were an animagus,” Ron says. “Or Pettigrew, for that matter. Back to how you got to Hogsmeade…”

“He’s got a map, of course,” Sirius says simply. “Shows everyone. What they’re doing and where they are every minute of every day. But, Sirius, how do you know that? I made the damn thing.”

Harry’s eyes widen, “You —?”

“Padfoot.”

Harry’s mouth drops. Sirius flashes a yellow grin over his shoulder.

“So, Dad was Prongs and Pettigrew was Wormtail… Remus is a Moony?” Harry says slowly. “Who am I kidding? Of course, he was. Jesus, with nicknames like that, it’s a miracle you guys made it through school without incident.”

“Yeah, well… Lily was the only one to actually figure it out. Had her friends in a right tizzy, they’d thought she’d gone insane when she started spouting about us being animagi.”

“Professor Lupin’s an animagus, too?” Ron says.

“He’s a werewolf,” Hermione says.

Harry and Draco look at her. Sirius looks over his shoulder.

“Professor Snape’s essay,” she says simply. “I… saw the signs.”

“Werewolf,” Ron repeats. “Oh.”

“What does that mean?” Harry says sharply.

“Nothing bad!” he quickly says. “Charlie’s friends with, like… three. I’m just… shocked, that’s all.”

Draco sighs, “This is not going to be taken lightly at all…”

“By Snape?” Harry assumes.

“Harry, we’ve established already that my godfather is the biggest dick possibly ever,” Draco says. “And he hates Lupin. There’s no way this year ends without him telling everybody that Lupin’s a werewolf.”

“Well, then, I’ll just tell everybody that Snape’s been brewing him wolfsbane all year,” Harry says. “Maybe it’ll get him fired too.”

“Okay, let’s focus on now,” Sirius says. “How do you suppose you’re going to get me into the castle without alerting the dementors?”

“How have you been getting past them again?” Harry says sarcastically.

“Oh, and there’s the part of Lily I was looking for,” Sirius says. “You’ll have to take over this spell. It’s Mobilicorpus. We’ll switch outside.”

The five of them fall silent for the rest of the walk. When they finally emerge back out of the tunnel, Crookshanks having pressed the knot of the trunk for them, it’s completely dark out. Sirius looks at the sky almost on instinct.

“Full moon tonight,” he says. “He’s going to wake up to quite a treat tomorrow.”

“What’s that spell?” Harry says.

“Mobilicorpus.”

Sirius lets the spell go and allows Pettigrew to fall to the ground with a thud. 

“That felt good. Go on, I’ll transform.”

Harry points his wand at Pettigrew and says, “Mobilicorpus,” and smirks to himself as Pettigrew rises into the air. 

“I dropped my cloak,” Harry says to Draco. “It’s by the trunk.”

A second later, it’s placed into his hand. Harry throws it over Pettigrew’s body. He looks behind him and sees Sirius in his animagus form. Remus was right… he really is just a mangy looking Golden Retriever, though much larger than the average Golden Retriever.

“Ready?” Harry asks. They all nod. “Okay. C’mon.”

Chapter Text

How they managed to get to Professor McGonagall’s office without getting stopped by anybody, Harry doesn’t know. Halfway there, Hermione and Draco split off to take Ron to the hospital wing, so when Harry knocks on her office door, it’s only him, Sirius, and an invisible Peter Pettigrew.

When she opens it, she has a nightgown on and her hair is down. She looks quite miffed already.

“Potter? What are you doing? It’s past curfew, you should not be wandering around. Lower your wand.”

Harry doesn’t, because he can’t. “This is important. I would go to Dumbledore but…”

She seems to understand. She sighs, “Well?”

Harry looks at Sirius. Sirius gives him an encouraging bob of the head.

“I think…you’ll want to sit down for this.”

Thirty minutes later, Harry has explained everything he can to her about the situation and she is definitely happy to have been sitting down for it.

“Merlin,” she says quietly when Harry stops talking. “This dog —?”

“Yes, but,” Harry jumps into an explanation of what just went down in the Shrieking Shack.

Five minutes later, she sits up straight.

“Show me him.”

Harry feels around the air for a moment and when he finds the edge of the cloak, he pulls it off. Professor McGonagall gasps, standing up to examine the floating and tied up, but very much alive body of Pettigrew.

“How do we do it?” Harry asks. “How do we bring him to the Ministry? How do we get this started?”

Professor McGonagall schools her expression, looking down at Harry. “I have no idea. But I do know that Remus has thought about it.”

“Remus?” Harry says.

“In the beginning,” she looks back at Pettigrew and her lip curls. “He refused to believe it. The Ministry didn’t deem him unfit to care for you because he’s a werewolf, Potter, they deemed him unfit because he was in a manic state for almost three years after it all happened. No matter what, the Ministry is supposed to follow what is stated in the will, but if it is quite obvious that one is not fit to care for a child, they are allowed to override it, but only with enough evidence. They certainly had enough, to say the least.”

“How do you know I was told that?”

“Remus and I have tea a lot,” she says. “Are you willing to wait until the morning?” 

“Well, you can’t necessarily ask a wolf those questions,” Harry says.

“I’ll watch over him. You go straight to your dorm. I will send a memo for you when Remus is up and functioning.”

Harry nods and stands up. “Professor…thank you. When…When we finally bring my case to the Ministry, I want you to help. You were there. I know you were. You’ve seen what they’ve done to me. It would help a lot.”

She allows herself to smile softly. “Of course. I would be more than happy to get you away from those muggles.”

Harry smiles back and then heads for the door.

“Sirius Black, you may not go to his dorm with him,” Professor McGonagall says sharply. “I would like a chat. And for you to bathe.”

Sirius barks at her.

“As a human.”

Harry smirks and slips out of her office.

OoOo

“Are you ever going to explain what the hell happened last night?” Ginny finally snaps halfway to the Great Hall the next morning. “Blaise said you were gone all night. And Draco didn’t come back to the dorm!”

“When were you talking to Blaise?” Draco says.

“This morning.”

“You didn’t come back?” Harry smirks.

“Shut up,” Draco says sharply. “He was puking all night and I told Granger to go get some sleep.”

Harry laughs. Before he can start teasing Draco about the fast-growing soft spot for Ron Weasley, though, a very frantic Remus Lupin passes by them before quickly backtracking. An over-enthusiastic Sirius is bounding down the corridor after him.

“Harry,” he pants. “Minerva’s explained everything. After breakfast, come to her office.”

“Draco too, and Hermione and Ron,” Harry tells him. “They were there too.”

“Did you explain anything?” Remus says.

“No,” Draco says flatly. 

“I did!” Harry protests.

“A single sentence is not an explanation, Harry James.”

“Fine. Just Ron, then, he knows what’s going on,” Harry says.

“Okay,” Remus breathes. “Padfoot, c’mon.”

Sirius barks happily, setting off down the corridor. Remus huffs and runs after him.

“I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day. Blaise is my new best friend,” Ginny walks ahead of them.

“Hey!” Pansy says, genuinely offended. “I’m still your best friend, right?”

“If you don’t talk to them for the rest of the day.”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this,” Pansy catches up with her quickly.

Harry blinks. 

“We deserve it,” Draco says.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “We do.”

OoOo

When Harry and Ron enter Professor McGonagall’s office after breakfast, they find Remus, Professor McGonagall, a human Sirius, a still tied up Pettigrew, and an Auror.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley,” the Auror says, striding over and sticking his hand out. “Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

Harry shakes his hand. Ron does as well, looking slightly in shock at seeing the man. 

“Sirius was just telling me what happened last night,” he says. “I must say, I am both…impressed and shocked.”

Sirius huffs a laugh, “I would still like to know how you figured it out, Harry. And I would also like to tell you how absolutely terrifying you are.”

Harry shrugs, “You weren’t listening to me.”

Sirius snorts.

“Um…Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy told me,” Harry says. “That Pettigrew was the one who betrayed them, not you. I didn’t know if you had killed all those muggles, though, or him, but now I do know. I figured out Pettigrew was the rat and you were an animagus because Ron heard a pop when you broke into his dorm. The same one we heard when Professor McGonagall transformed into her animagus form.”

“You figured all that out by a pop?” Sirius says. 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t you apparating out of the castle,” Ron says. “And a human can’t do the damage you did to the portrait hole.”

“But Pettigrew…”

“I talked to Remus after I figured it out,” Harry says. “He told me you were all animagi, and that Pettigrew was a rat. I’d heard some Gryffindors talking about Ron and Hermione fighting because Crookshanks was trying to kill Ron’s rat. It wasn’t very hard to connect the dots after remembering that Crookshanks was my dad’s cat. Besides, rats don’t live for twelve years, no matter how well you take care of them.”

“I still can’t believe it took all that for you to thank me,” Ron mumbles.

Harry smirks.

“Anyway,” Harry says, “what happens now?”

“We get Sirius’ name cleared,” Kingsley says. “Order the dementors away, take him to the Ministry, and give him the trial he never got. It was smart, keeping him from killing Pettigrew.”

“Well…I figured committing the murder he was imprisoned for might not have been good,” Harry says.

“No, probably not,” Sirius says. “You should probably explain all of this to your friends, Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, slightly sheepishly. “Ginny and Pansy have stopped talking to me and Draco until we tell them. And I barely even told Draco and Hermione, and they were there.”

“Hermione is not happy with me, either,” Ron mutters. “Well… she’s happier than she has been, that’s for sure. Who did you hear talking about us fighting?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t actually know them, I just heard one of them say Hermione should’ve hexed you and that you were overreacting and the other one defended you and said you’re a sweetheart.”

Ron makes a face, “A sweetheart?”

Harry snickers.

“Is there anything else you think we should know?” Professor McGonagall asks.

Harry thinks. “I don’t believe so.”

“Then why don’t you go explain to your friends what is happening. You will know when you are needed again.”

Harry and Ron step outside the office and begin walking in silence, though it only lasts for about a minute.

“I’m sorry,” Ron says. “For everything I did to you. For…being a dick and…using the Polyjuice Potion…”

Harry is silent for a long moment before he inhales and says, “Thank you. I don’t know if I truly forgive your actions yet, but you’re getting there.”

“And thank you for looking after my sister,” Ron says. “I…I feel so bad, for acting like that, I basically betrayed her…just, thank you.”

“I think you should apologize to her, too,” Harry says quietly. “And at least apologize to Pansy and Draco for knocking them out and shoving them in a closet.”

Ron nods, “I will, definitely.”

“And you’re welcome,” Harry says. “Ginny can look after herself and she basically looked after me, not the other way around, but you’re welcome. So, there’s you, the twins, and your mother out of the way. I don’t think Percy will approach me, but I’m sure your father will. And then, of course, there’s Finnigan and Thomas.”

Ron sighs, “Seamus and Dean are too prideful to ever come up themselves, I’d have to drag them. They are sorry, though. They just, kind of, did what I did. We were all arseholes. Neville is very tired of us.”

“As he should be.”

Ron huffs a laugh.

“So, once again, thank you for apologizing, and you’re welcome for looking after Ginny. Have a good day, Ronald.”

“And you as well, Harry.”

They share a smile before they go their separate ways to their own common rooms.

OoOo

Harry startles when he enters Remus’ office to find him packing.

“What are you —?”

Remus smiles ruefully at him and says nothing.

Harry pieces it together quickly and huffs, “I swear to god…”

Remus looks briefly startled and then he laughs, “Oh, Harry, no, I resigned.”

Harry blinks, “You — what? Snape didn’t —?”

“Oh, he definitely wants to, but no, he’s keeping his mouth shut,” Remus says. “No, I… I cannot continue to work here. After you and Sirius… I’m afraid I might do something rash.”

“But you’re the best DADA professor we’ve had!” Harry protests, walking over to his desk and grabbing his wrist as he reaches for his ink jar.

“Harry,” Remus says softly, carefully taking his wrist out of Harry’s grip. “I am sorry, truly, and I do wish I could continue to teach, but…Profe — Dumbledore has proven to be a man I don’t want to continue to be in debt of. He provided me a safe place at Hogwarts once before, at the cost of my rational thinking, and I’m afraid I might either do something I will regret or be persuaded to think I owe him anything again.”

Harry can see the logic, he can, but he really wishes there was no logic and that he could convince Remus to stay.

“Don’t worry, though,” Remus says, smiling, “if everything works out, you’ll be spending your summers with me soon enough. Me and Sirius. Unfortunately, I don’t believe this summer will be that summer, but we’ll work on setting up trials and witnesses and whatnot, and hopefully, next summer, you’ll be fully disconnected from the Muggle world.”

“Well, who are you doing first? Me or Sirius? That’s a dumb question. Sirius.”

“It would be better to make him an innocent man first,” Remus says. “After that, a psychological evaluation, and then it’ll be much easier to get you into our care. Sirius is your godfather, making him more qualified to care for you than Petunia and Vernon, and if his evaluation is good, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

“And if it’s not?”

“We give him a little more time. Let him heal properly, get him a mind healer, get him in good health, and do it again. But…I don’t think it’ll be bad, per se, but it may not be the best. But we don’t need the best, we just need it to be good enough that the Ministry agrees that he’s a fit guardian.”

Harry nods.

“Now, I should get going. My carriage is probably going to arrive soon. I promise, Harry, we’ll get you away from those muggles,” Remus walks around his desk and squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “Did you ever get around to talking to your friends?”

“Yes, I did. They know everything,” Harry nods. 

“Good. They can help too if you would like them to. I’ll see you soon, Harry.”

“Yeah. See you soon.”

OoOo

On the train back to King’s Cross, Blaise sits with them in their compartment for the first time. During the day and a half of Ginny declaring him her new best friend, they learned that they have a lot in common, so Ginny invited him and Theo Nott to sit with them. Theo declined, choosing to sit with Vincent and Greg like normal. Blaise happily moved compartments, though, and is now having a very in-depth conversation about Quidditch with Ginny. Pansy is looking extremely jealous but seems to be doing an okay job distracting herself by asking Harry about his plans for the summer.

Harry explains the situation with Remus and Sirius and tells them he’ll be staying with the Dursleys for a few weeks until Dobby comes and gets him like usual, but hopefully next summer he won’t have to use Dobby to leave and can instead just use the floo or even just walk out the front door. 

Draco waits patiently for Harry to finish speaking before excitedly announcing that they’ll be going to the Quidditch World Cup this summer. Mr. Malfoy got the best tickets out there thanks to his ministry connections and their tent spot is great, too. One of the ones closest to the quidditch pitch. 

“Me, personally, I’m rooting for Bulgaria,” Draco says. “Viktor Krum is one of the best seekers in the world right now! My dad is rooting for France, but they definitely aren’t winning.”

“I’ve never seen any of the teams competing play before,” Harry says thoughtfully. “But I’ve heard very good things about the Irish. I might root for them.”

“My family’s been loyal to the Irish forever,” Ginny says. “I suppose we’ve got some Irish roots that might have an influence over that but they’re also a bloody good team, they are. I personally root for the Holyhead Harpies over anybody, but since they’re not a national team, they can’t compete. I’m Irish all the way for national teams. We’ll be there too, with slightly worse seats but Dad pulled some strings and we’re gonna be really high up, he said.”

“Maybe we can convince my father to sneak you up to our seats,” Draco says. 

“No chance. Fred and George are going to be watching my every move,” Ginny shakes her head. “They get really paranoid when I’m not in their line of sight out in public. When we were in Egypt, they never left my side.”

“We’ll come find your tent, then,” Pansy says. “I’m not leaving until I get to have one conversation with you, at least.”

Ginny grins. “All right. We’ll hang out before all the games.”

When they reach the platform, Mr. Malfoy informs Harry of the exact date and time Dobby will come to fetch him, Mrs. Malfoy gives him a hug and so does Draco, and then Harry makes his way off the platform to go find the Dursleys.

Harry is spending a little less than a month with them, and then hopefully, he won’t ever have to sleep under their roof again.

Chapter Text

Despite the strange nightmares that seem a little too real for Harry’s liking, his time at the Dursleys isn’t bad. He doesn’t talk much with them while he’s there, but he does get a cheesy, “Good riddance,” in whenever Dobby comes to get him. Mrs. Malfoy gives him a tight hug when she sees him and then they proceed to have a strangely good conversation about how expensive wizards make muggle clothes since they’re a necessity for most wizards so it’s an easy sell, no matter the price. The conversation gets interrupted by Mr. Malfoy announcing that their portkey is ready. Mrs. Malfoy gives Harry another hug, gives Draco a hug, and kisses Mr. Malfoy before they leave. 

Harry gets approximately sixty seconds to marvel at the magical tent he’s just stepped inside of before Draco is dragging him away and telling Mr. Malfoy they’ll be back before midnight. There isn’t a game tonight as it’s just the arrival day, so it gives them plenty of time to go searching for Pansy and Blaise and then go find the Weasleys.

Finding Pansy is easy enough, she’s only a few spots down. She’s wearing a big floppy hat and a pretty yellow floral sundress and she’s standing next to her mother watching as her father sets up their tent. 

“Hi, Mrs. Parkinson,” Harry says as they walk up.

Pansy’s mother turns and smiles at Harry, “Hello, dear! How has your summer been so far?”

“Okay. Great, now that I’m here,” Harry smiles. 

“Come to fetch me?” Pansy says. 

“We have,” Draco says. “We’re going to find Blaise and then the Weasleys. I told my father we'd be back before midnight.”

“That’s fine, darling, just be safe,” Mrs. Parkinson says. “Stay with the boys.”

“I will, Mum,” Pansy says. “Let’s go find Blaise.”

After about ten minutes of searching, they find him lounging in the sun reading a book while his mother talks to the man in the spot next to them. 

“Blaise, wanna come find the Weasleys with us?” Draco says.

Blaise looks up from his book and then at his mum. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

It’s another twenty minutes until they finally stumble upon the twins taking bets from random people.

“Oi, Fred,” Harry gets his attention. “Where’s your tent at?”

“Next row over, look for Cedric Diggory tanning his abs, we’re right next door” Fred grins.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Pansy mumbles. 

They walk between tents to get to the right row and then start looking out for a pair of gorgeous abs, as dubbed by Pansy. They find them rather quickly and even Blaise has to fan himself with his hand for a moment.

“Hi, Cedric,” Pansy says as they pass by. 

“Parkinson. Potter,” Cedric grins at the two of them.

“No way,” Harry mumbles, much to Pansy’s amusement and Draco’s chagrin, though Harry doesn’t notice the latter. 

They stand awkwardly outside of the Weasley tent for a moment before Harry clears his throat and says, “Knock knock?”

One of the flaps food backward to reveal a Weasley Harry doesn’t know the name of. 

“Hello. Is Ginny in there or should we keep searching?” Harry says pleasantly.

“She’s in here,” he says. “Harry Potter?”

“That’s me,” Harry nods.

“Gin,” he looks over his shoulder. In an instant, Ginny appears, smiling at them and telling them to come inside and get out of the heat. 

The Weasley tent is much cooler than outside, that’s for sure, and it’s definitely a welcome feeling after walking for half an hour. 

“Ginny, I love cool air just as much as the next girl, but there is something so hot right next to this tent that is so worth the sun,” Pansy says as she removes her hat and tries to fix her hat hair.

“Trust me, we know,” the voice of Hermione Granger says from something in the tent. She appears a second later, coming from what Harry assumes must be either a bathroom or a bedroom.

“We know,” Ginny nods. Pansy snickers. “You’ve never met my oldest brothers. That’s Bill and it was Charlie who pulled the tent flap back. Bill’s the one we went to Egypt for. Charlie’s the dragon guy. I’m sure Ron’s mentioned it once or twice or a hundred times.”

“Actually, I’ve never talked to him long enough for it to come up, but there’s plenty of opportunities in the future,” Harry says.

“Nice to know you’re thinking about me,” Charlie says to a pouting Ron, to which Ron responds by glancing to see if Mr. Weasley is looking and then flipping off his older brother. “Dad, Ron just flipped me off.”

“Don’t be mean to your brother, Ron,” Mr. Weasley says. Ron glares at Charlie.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Weasley,” Harry says.

Mr. Weasley turns around from the stove and smiles brightly, “And you as well, Mr. Potter!”

“Right…that leaves me getting on Percy’s good side,” Harry says. “The last time I talked to Percy was during a funny little incident during second year Yule break. I’m sure you remember, Ron.”

“If I knew you were gonna bring that up every chance you got, I don’t think I would’ve tried to be your friend,” Ron says.

“If there’s one thing you’ll learn very quickly about me, it’s that I will never pass up an opportunity to be as petty as possible,” Harry says. “And you’ve certainly given me a lot of things to be petty about.”

Behind them, Fred and George enter the tent. Fred says, “Is that where Ginny gets it?” 

“No, I got it from you guys and Bill,” Ginny says. “Especially Bill.”

Bill shrugs. “Eh, you know me. I think it’s customary for the oldest sibling to learn how to be the prettiest, otherwise you brats get away with everything. Gotta make everything a big deal so you can feel my pain.”

Mr. Weasley laughs, likely reminiscing on times Bill has been as petty as can be.

Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise stay in the Weasley tent for at least a few hours before Ginny decides she wants to go look around at what people are selling and also to see if they can spot anybody they know.

They spend the rest of the night outside, looking at booths full of Quidditch merchandise and searching for fellow students. They find and talk to Finnigan, Thomas, and Neville, as well as the Greengrass sisters and the Patil twins before they circle back and finish the night talking to Cedric. 

The next few days go by very quickly for Harry. They go to a Quidditch game, they spend the evening with Blaise, Pansy, and Ginny, and then repeat the same thing the next day. 

Finally, they get to the last match. Bulgaria versus Ireland. Harry decks himself out in Irish merchandise, Draco does the same for Bulgaria, and they spend the match shouting at the players and each other very heatedly. Harry swears Draco almost cries when Krum catches the snitch only to find out Ireland still wins. 

Harry and Ginny are dancing a celebratory waltz-to-a-song-that-shouldn’t-be-waltzed-to when the attack happens. Mr. Weasley rushes in and directs them to the woods, he tells them to run and not try to fight. He says this while looking directly at Ron and Harry and Harry would laugh in any other situation. 

While on the way to the woods, their group gets broken up by a few of the attackers, and Harry gets knocked to the ground, momentarily losing his breath and vision as the wind gets knocked out of him and his head hits the ground. When he comes to, Draco is dragging him toward the woods and it’s only when they’ve finally stopped and caught their breath that Harry realizes his wand is missing. 

“Shit!” he curses. “I must’ve dropped it when I fell.”

“We can’t go back now,” Hermione says. “Sorry, Harry. Hopefully, it’ll be there if we can ever manage to get back.”

Harry feels extremely vulnerable without his wand on him but he keeps this to himself as they walk deeper into the woods, now separated from Bill, Charlie, Percy, the twins, and Ginny thanks to the group that attacked them.

They finally happen upon a quiet spot where they can’t be seen when standing at the tree line and where nobody has decided to sit, so they stop and decide to wait there until everything stops. 

Draco is looking very worried and Harry doesn’t have to think hard about what he might be worried about. They didn’t have time to find Mr. Malfoy, meaning he’s either stuck fighting by himself or, in an equally as likely scenario, he’s one of the ones doing the attacking. Just because Harry is close with his son doesn’t mean he’s completely changed who he is as a person. Lucius Malfoy was a follower of Voldemort during the first war and it’s not very unlikely that he still is to this day. If he is, it just sucks even worse than the last time, because this time he’s close with the guy who killed the Dark Lord. 

Harry grabs Draco’s hand, thankful that the darkness covers up both his blush and the fact that he’s doing it at all. Draco squeezes his hand in appreciation. 

Unfortunately, their moment gets cut short by a voice not belonging to anyone in their group. The person can’t be standing more than twenty feet away and they say very clearly and deeply, “ Morsmordre. ”

A jet of green light shoots into the air, where it hits the clouds and begins to form a skull with a snake slithering from its mouth. 

“The Dark Mark,” Draco mumbles. “It’s a warning…”

“What?” Hermione says. “A warning for what?”

Draco gets no time to tell them. One loud crack after another sounds as ministry officials appear left and right, all around them. Harry only barely manages to get all of them to drop to the ground before the stunning spells start flying over their hands.

“Stop! Stop! That’s my son! Stop firing!” Mr. Weasley shouts, running forward. “Are you kids all right? None of you are hurt?”

“We’re good, Dad,” Ron says.

“How long have you been standing here?” a new voice aggressively asks them. The owner of the voice has crossed over to them in record time and Harry is almost certain this is Bartemius Crouch Sr. “Did you see who cast the spell? Where were they?”

“Right over there, sir,” Hermione points. “We didn’t see them, we only heard it and then saw the mark in the sky.”

Mr. Crouch and five other people rush to the spot, wands aimed and ready. Harry, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Hermione, and Ron follow them, expecting them to find the guy who cast the spell but instead of a man, they find an elf.

“Winky?” Mr. Crouch says. “Did you do this?”

Winky the Elf immediately begins blabbering out a denial, her little ears hitting her face as she vehemently shakes her head no. 

“An elf can’t do this kind of magic, Barty,” Mr. Weasley says as Amos Diggory strides forward out of the crowd of ministry employees. 

“It’s got a wand,” Diggory picks up the wand off the ground. “How do you explain that ?”

“Hey…that’s my wand,” Harry takes a few steps forward. “How’d you get my wand?”

“ Your wand? Did you do this, Potter?” Diggory turns on him. Harry stumbles back at the aggression in his voice.

“No, no, sir,” Harry says quickly. “I lost my wand on the way here. I fell and I dropped it.”

“How convenient —“

“Amos!” Mr. Weasley barks. “This is Harry Potter you’re talking about. What reason would he have to cast the Dark Mark into the sky?”

Harry nods his thanks at Mr. Weasley as Diggory turns back to Winky and begins questioning her again.

“Again, Amos, an elf couldn’t do this magic,” Mr. Weasley reasons. “It’s highly unlikely an elf would even know the incantation, to begin with.”

“And the person who did this had a deep voice,” Pansy cuts in. “Definitely a human, not a house-elf.”

“Spread out! Search the woods!” Mr. Crouch demands. “And for Merlin’s sake, give the boy his wand back, Amos, and go look for your son.”

“Cedric,” Diggory mutters. He shoves Harry’s wand into his hands and runs off, shouting Cedric’s name. 

“He’s mental,” Draco breathes. “Cedric’s dad is mental.”

“All the good ones have to have something wrong with them,” Pansy says.

“Pansy, shut up,” Draco pinches her upper arm. 

When they find Mr. Malfoy, he’s got a large cut on his cheek and is limping, but that doesn’t stop Draco from hugging him tightly. Draco apologizes a thousand times for not coming to find him and Mr. Malfoy’s vague reassurances that he handled himself perfectly fine only serve to make Harry’s fears grow larger. He truly had hoped that in becoming close with the Malfoys, they would rethink their loyalties, but you really can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

That night, safe and sound back at Malfoy Manor, Harry has another nightmare. It’s the same dilapidated house as always, except this time Harry is very low to the ground. He’s moving in a slight zigzag pattern and it’s when he sees his forked tongue that he realizes this time, he’s the snake he’s been seeing in his other nightmares. He enters the same room he’s been viewing from the outside for a while now. In the room is the strange, infant-like creature sitting in a chair with two people kneeling in front of it and talking to it. One of them, Harry doesn’t recognize, but the other one is without a doubt, Mr. Parkinson. In trying to cope with Mr. Malfoy possibly still being loyal to Voldemort, Harry didn’t even think about Pansy’s parents. 

He wakes up before he can even grasp what the conversation is about, but he saw what he needed to see. 

All Harry can hope for is that his friends won’t betray him. They’ll stick by his side and won’t let their families persuade them into doing the wrong thing. He has a feeling something big is coming and he desperately doesn’t want to end up on the opposite side of his friends during a war.

Chapter Text

The train compartment on the way back to school is packed. With Harry, Draco, Pansy, Ginny, Blaise, Ron, and Hermione all sitting in it, they’re pretty squished together, but none of them seem to mind. Well, Harry does just a bit, but personal space is very important to him so at least he’s got a good reason.

Crookshanks the Cat purrs contently on Harry’s lap the whole way there. Hermione can’t decide on whether or not to be happy her cat likes somebody else for a change or jealous that her cat isn’t sitting with her instead. Harry explains that Crookshanks used to be his dad’s cat, realizing he excluded that from his story a few months ago when telling her how he figured out about Scabbers being Pettigrew. 

“Speaking of which, how’s that going?” Hermione asks.

“They’ve cleared Sirius’ name,” Harry says. “They didn’t even need me or Remus as a witness, Pettigrew and some Veritaserum was enough to clear him.”

“That’s right,” Blaise says. “I remember I saw an article about that earlier this summer. I didn’t realize you’d helped with that.”

“The real reason Ginny was your new best friend for a day and a half was that I wasn’t telling her all the juicy details about what happened to help make Sirius innocent again,” Harry says. 

“Oh, well, I’m so glad you didn’t for that day and a half. This is a wonderful friend group,” Blaise places a hand on his chest.

“I don’t care if you’re being sarcastic or not, I’m taking that to heart,” Harry says. 

“I mean it with one hundred percent sincerity.”

“Whatever you say.”

By the time they reach the school and are sat down for the Sorting, Harry is starving. Slytherin gains more new students than Ravenclaw, but most of this bunch goes to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Harry hears the name Dennis Creevey and thinks it’s interesting that the Creeveys got two magical children two years apart, despite being a muggle family. He wonders what the odds of that happening are. 

Finally, the sorting ends and Harry is quick to begin eating. One of the new first years has decided to sit next to Ginny, who sits across from Harry, so Harry is expecting it when a wonder-filled voice says, “So, you’re really Harry Potter…”

“Unfortunately,” Harry mutters. “I sure am.”

The kid obviously wants to say more, but somebody interrupts him. “Potter.”

Harry looks up at the owner of the voice. Daisy Corran. The girl who wanted to be Queen this year, if Harry remembers Draco’s words correctly.

“Corran,” he says in acknowledgment.

“You aware of your status this year?” she says, raising an eyebrow. 

Harry blinks and glances at his friends. “No. I assumed it was the same. Nobody told me anything at the end of the year. Am I wrong?”

“Well, I don’t know what you were doing at the end of the year to not hear it, but you got it,” Corran says. “You’re King now.”

Harry has to fight not to laugh in her face. It was never a competition, he knows it and she knows it, but still…getting King over her makes him feel giddy in a way he hasn’t felt since those times he ‘grounded’ Draco for being a dick. He can admit it, he hasn’t really been focused on politics that much recently, for good reason, but to know that his House still thinks he’ll be a good King as a fourth-year is making him want to actually jump with joy. Power is something he’s always wanted and definitely had, but now he has it and that…is so nice to think about. He may not be as insane as he was in his first and second year, but that Harry is still inside of him and this news just about brought him out for a second.

Harry clears his throat. “Thank you for letting me know, Corran. Sorry that I took it from you.”

“No, you’re not,” Corran says. “Potter, I don’t like you at all, but you’re not a liar. You’re a good one, but you don’t do it to us. You’re stoked I’m not Queen and you want to laugh in my face about it. You’ll make a fucking fantastic politician one day. I’m just gonna be a medi-witch.”

“Thanks,” Harry says genuinely. Not liked, but respected. It’ll do for now, especially since Harry knows that the vast majority of his House actually does like him. The Wizarding World as a whole may not be a big fan, but as long as he’s respected as a good and influential wizard, he doesn’t particularly care.

“I don’t know what any of that means, but it sounds like you’re pretty awesome,” the first year says. 

Harry huffs a laugh. “I like to think that as well.”

Harry doesn’t really listen to Dumbledore’s speech until he hears the Quidditch Cup won’t be happening. “You’re joking,” Harry groans along with Draco. 

Dumbledore continues on explaining why. “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —”

They don’t get to hear what’s going to happen this year at Hogwarts because the loud rumble of the Great Hall doors being opened interrupted Dumbledore.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Draco mumbles as a man enters, looking rather worse for wear.

He lowers his hood and shakes out a mess of long, gray hair before he begins limping his way to the staff table. With each step the man takes, a loud thump is heard from his walking staff hitting the ground. Lightning from the enchanted ceiling lights him up a few times during his walk and gives everybody a perfect view of his face for a second each time. It’s horribly scarred on almost every piece of exposed skin and he has one regular eye and one fake eye. The fake eye spins around in its socket, moving in every direction, even backward. 

When he reaches the staff table, he and Dumbledore mumble to each other for a moment before Dumbledore gestures for him to sit down and he does. Then, Dumbledore clears his throat.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” he says. “Professor Moody.”

Nobody except Hagrid and Dumbledore clap.

Harry glances at Draco and Draco glances at him and they only barely manage to keep it together and not dissolve into laughter. 

“As I was saying,” Dumbledore continues, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” one of the Weasley twins shouts into the silence of the Great Hall. The cloud of tension that had formed in the room disappears as everybody laughs at his loud voice. 

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore says. 

“I’ve just realized,” Draco leans over, “I think that’s Mad-Eye Moody. Famous auror. He’s got the most arrests in history in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Arrested a ton of Death Eaters after the war.”

“What the hell is he doing here teaching, then?” Harry whispers.

“I don’t know but it can’t be good,” Draco says. “I have a feeling Mad-Eye Moody wouldn’t make a good teacher. Dumbledore must’ve hired him for a reason other than teaching.”

“Maybe…”

“Some of you will not know what this tournament involves,” Dumbeldore is saying, “so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.”

Dumbledore goes on to tell them that it was discontinued a few hundred years ago when the death toll got too high and there have been many attempts to revive it, but this is the first one to actually work. This worries Harry quite a bit and from the look he shares with Pansy, she feels the same way. 

Three champions are selected from each school to participate in three challenges to win the Triwizard Cup, eternal glory at their school, and one thousand galleons. The money is what really excites everybody and Harry hears one of the Weasley twins declare they’ll be going for it before the devastating news is given. Only those seventeen and older can enter, and it’s widely known that the Weasley twins’ birthdays are April first. The outrage at such a rule is immediate, but Dumbledore shushes everybody quickly so he can continue. There will be an age line to prevent anybody under seventeen from entering, cast by Dumbledore himself, so nobody under seventeen should even think to attempt to try and cross it. He says this part while looking directly at Fred and George.

Dumbledore then explains that two schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, will be showing up in October for the competition. He expects Hogwarts to welcome them with open hearts and minds. Then, he bids them all goodnight and sends them on their way.

“This is bloody insane,” Harry says as they walk. “A deadly tournament? What are they thinking?”

“Maybe it’s for international relations,” Pansy says. “France and Russia are very good allies to have. Lots of powerful wizards from those countries.”

“With Harry in school, I can already see this going horribly wrong very quickly,” Ginny says. 

“Oh, fucking hell,” Harry groans. “If I end up being the Hogwarts champion, I might kill myself.”