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Within the halls of Hogwarts, and even outside them, everyone knew who Harry Potter was. Intimately so.
Whether growing up to bedtime stories of how he killed The Lord Voldemort, or getting to know him in herbology 1 their first year of school, everyone had an idea of who he was as a person.
Everyone had him figured out, his parents were killed by Voldemort when he was 1, he was shucked off to his aunt and uncle who hadn’t treated him the best, came to Hogwarts, escaped Voldemort multiple times and then killed him in his fifth year.
That’s the narrative that had become common knowledge when it came to Potter 101. Not everyone had the big picture, and unfortunately for Harry, many more were about to.
Harry sat with his fellow gryffindors. Everyone in the class waited impatiently for the DADA teacher to come out. They had gotten yet another professor for the seemingly cursed teaching position. This year, Mad-eye Moody was once more the professor, though this time it was actually fully him.
A sporadic clunking noise filled the chattering room as the professor rounded the corner into the classroom, effectively stopping all conversation as the students watched him with mild trepidation. While he was a great professor, he was also largely intimidating and the students were still deciding whether they liked him or not.
“Today we’ll be studying something fairly familiar for you all.” Came his gruff voice, his eye whirling around in circles.
“I believe you have looked at bogarts, in third year.” When no one answered he clunked his large wooden leg once again. Everyone began to nod their heads in hasty agreement.
Mad-eye slammed his hand down on a large wooden box. “We have one here today.” He rasped. “Now if you’ll line up here in front please.” He curtly nodded to the general area in front of the box, and people scrambled up from their seats.
“I’ll help you, if needed, of course. Just remember the spell is Riddikulus.” And, without further ado, he swung the lid open.
At the front of the line stood Parvati Patil, out came a bloody mummy, moaning and swinging his large bandaged arms around blindly. Clearly her fears had not changed at all in the last three years.
Parvati let out a small squeak before yelling “riddikulus” the mummy shrunk down until it was only a few inches big, its eyes big and doll-like. Honestly, it looked pretty cute. Parvati smiled and ran promptly to her seat.
Next in line was Neville, the bogart quickly changed into a duplicate of Bellatrix Lestrange. After the efforts of Harry and his friends to take down Voldemort, Neville had encountered Bellatrix in person; they're not sure how their interaction went, but Neville has had a certain coldness to him ever since the encounter. Judging from his bogart, it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.
“RIDDIKULUS,” yelled Neville! Bellatrix’s skin immediately started sagging like an old lady's, taking away much of her youthful charm and intimidation.
The line continued much the same, some people’s fears had changed, others had stayed the same, but everyone was able to swiftly deal with their bogart and the class continued on.
Harry honestly had no idea what his bogart would turn out to be. He had defeated his mortal enemy the year prior so he couldn’t imagine Voldemort as the bogart. Maybe dementors, like in third year? But that seemed unlikely to him as well since he could cast a powerful patronus and had done so several times. What else could it be, who else does he fear?
Ron, who stood in front of Harry in line, took his place in front of the bogart. Instead of turning into a spider, the bogart took the shape of a dead Hermione, her face thin and pale like it had never been before. Her eyes were open looking directly into rons, cold and unseeing.
Ron stared back at the corpse, wand arm held out in front of him unsteadily and shaking. After the events at the ministry Ron had become much more protective over Hermione and Harry, seeing them in real mortal danger, and Harry having actually died for a moment had scarred him.
Harry gave Ron’s arm a small push, then ron whispered the spell, “ridikulus”, he said, and Hermione slowly transformed from a lifeless corpse to sitting on the floor, reading a book. Ron was looking straight down as he walked away, not willing to meet anyone’s eyes as he made his way to the back.
The classroom had a decidedly solemn energy after Ron’s turn, everyone reminded of the hard-fought battle won only 6 months prior. Often the other students would forget that a few of their peers had actually physically been there when it all went down. Now, they all turned to Harry
Harry walked up to the place Ron had stood seconds before. He waited a few seconds. It seemed as though the bogart were assessing him. It took much longer than the other students.
Of course.
Finally, to Harry’s horror, the creature took the shape of his uncle Vernon.
Oh god no.
That’s all Harry could think as he saw the huge replica of his Uncle bore down in front of him. All he could do was stare shocked as the bogart started yelling horrible things at Harry.
Never did he think uncle Vernon would appear. Who would’ve thought he had such an impact on Harry.
“You disgusting freak!” Shouted the bogart uncle Vernon. Harry couldn’t believe it, in front of all his classmates. The news would be spread across the whole school by lunch. He thought he had escaped the Dursleys, but no they always found him somehow.
The huge whale sized man continued to scream as Harry stood shell shocked, as well as every other person in the room. What was the spell again? How did this work?
He couldn’t remember, his scrambled brain seemed to be out of order.
Vernon suddenly began to unbuckle his belt. Oh god, he could not get a belting in front of his classmates.
“Oh god, do the spell already.” Said an exasperated, voice. Malfoy.
When Harry made no moves for his wand, and Vernon raised the belt above his head ready to whip it crashing against Harry’s skin, Malfoy sprang into action.
“Riddikulus!” He shouted.
Harry still didn’t move. How did you react to things again? Before he had to remember for himself Malfoy slapped him straight across the cheek.
Harry’s head snapped backward, he couldn’t help but think it was uncle Vernon’s hand for a second before remembering this was Hogwarts. He quickly buried down his thoughts and put on a look of defiance.
“The bloody hell was that for?” Harry shouted, trying to keep his voice strong when all he wanted to do was collapse, he could feel the red blooming across his cheek but restrained the urge to soothe the slight burn there.
“I was trying to get you to wake up!” Malfoy shouted back. His words held the usual hatred but his eyes, his eyes were new.
They weren’t as malicious as usual. The look he was giving Harry made him feel uncomfortable. It was like he was looking right into his soul. Seeing Harry for the first time in a new light.
Harry refused to meet his gaze, something about it seemed ton tempt him into spilling his secrets.
Harry, shaking slightly, left the room. He didn’t want to see the rest of the class’ reactions to the darkest secret he had.He made his way to Madam Pomfrey’s room, thinking maybe he could get a dreamless sleep potion. Suddenly the sound of a large door banging closed and the woosh of robes filled the once quiet hallway.
And then there he was, Draco fucking Malfoy. He had come, he expected Ron or Hermione to accompany him to the nurse, like usual, not Draco fucking Malfoy. But of course it was him, thought Harry bitterly. He was a nosy git and had to know the details of what he had just witnessed.
Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Harry in the hall. They met gazes both not moving an inch. The staring match was intense, like swords clanging together, the tension in the air thick and cloying. Finally Harry’s shaking form seemed to snap Draco out of it. Harry rolled his eyes, even Malfoy wasn’t immune to pitying him it would seem.
“What the fuck are you doing here Potter?” Malfoy’s sudden question shocked Harry, he was used to people immediately treating him fragile and delicate after learning of his relatives' treatment of him. But he saw now that Malfoy would never stoop to that level. The harsh words actually soothed Harry more than anything else could’ve in this situation, grounded him back to reality, back to something familiar like a petty rivalry between schoolmates.
“I could ask you the same question Malfoy,” Harry finally replied, but there was no bite to his words, whether because his voice was still thin with weariness of the trauma he just relived, or because he was finally realizing how Draco didn’t have to be an enemy.
“Fair enough Potter,” Malfoy crossed his arms casually looking Harry up and down slowly, assesingly. “On your way to Pomfrey's then?” He asked as his eyes trailed back up to Harry’s own.
“Yeah I am,” Harry said softly, for some reason his defenses were much lower than normal right then, and looking into Draco’s calming grey stare was making his senses float away on a cloud.
As Harry continued to stare at Draco, body still trembling but otherwise not moving a muscle, Draco felt a bit of concern, “Are you okay Potter?” He asked.
“M’fine,” was the reply, but Draco could tell this was far from the truth, he wondered if Harry was in some state of shock, as he had just relived something terrible and in front of all the gryffindors and slytherins no less.
“Are you sure?” Malfoy took a tentative step forward, Harry still staring straight at him. When Harry still didn’t move he took a few more steps, soon he was standing just a foot away, one hand came up almost subconsciously to grip Harry’s thin shoulder. He really was much too small for his age, coming to just Draco’s shoulder and so sickeningly thin. Draco wondered how he had overlooked this for so many years.
“Let me take you to the hospital wing,” Harry continued his staring, “okay, Potter?” Finally Harry gave a tiny nod before dropping his eyes to the floor. His hands trembled at his sides before he clasped them in front of him and tried his best to hide their shaking. He felt cold all over, and his brain was going so fast he couldn’t grab onto any one thought, just anxiety and fear were the only things he could register. The only thing keeping him upright was the firm grip of Malfoy’s large hand on his shoulder, the tips of his fingers spanning the back of his neck and warming the skin there.
Together they walked to the hospital wing, Malfoy staring straight ahead, Potter staring at the floor. They didn’t speak but they didn’t need to, a tentative understanding enveloped the two as they continued their journey. Somehow, they both knew this was the beginning of something… new.