Chapter Text
[Harry Potter’s POV]
On the train, Harry Potter learned from his new friend, Ron Weasley, that Ravenclaw was the house for the smart ones. Hufflepuff was full of loyal people. Gryffindor was brave, and Slytherin was evil and untrustworthy.
Well, what greeted him at the entrance to the Great Hall confirmed some of Ron’s remarks about Slytherin. There was Malfoy, so arrogant, who didn’t hesitate to mock his new friend. At that very moment, the boy with the scar on his forehead decided to join Gryffindor. Seeing the cheers from the people at that table, Harry couldn’t imagine himself entering the Slytherin dormitory and having to face Malfoy every day.
When he shifted his gaze to take in the entire view of the Hogwarts Great Hall, a bright red streak caught Harry’s attention.
It came from a teenager in a Slytherin robe; the contrasting colors made his facial features and appearance stand out even more. His bright red hair, cut to his shoulders, complemented his pale skin and a jawline that marked the traits of a nobleman.
On the other hand, his reddish-brown eyes were quite unique, blinking calmly—almost listlessly. It was as if all the interactions at the dining table had left the teenager exhausted.
“Who’s that?” Unable to contain his curiosity, he immediately asked Ron. This made his new friend turn toward Harry’s gaze and then gape in astonishment.
“Blimey!” Ron exclaimed, his cheeks flushing deeply. That reaction caught the attention of some first-year students, causing their eyes to automatically turn toward the source of Ron’s surprise.
“Ohoo~ Ronniekins! Is that the scent of a ‘crush’ I’m catching~”
“Ohoo~ Ronniekins! Too bad you’ll have to back off!”
The two older Weasley brothers—Fred and George, if Harry remembered correctly—immediately started teasing Ron. They didn’t miss a beat in teasing the youngest brother in a humorous yet annoying harmony—at least for poor Ron.
“He’s got a terrifying handler!” The Weasley twins finished the sentence in unison, slinging their arms around each other before bursting into laughter. They didn’t care if they were gossiping at the top of their lungs, even if the person in question was in the same room.
“So, who is he? He’s so beautiful!” Suddenly, a girl with wavy brown hair asked in a shy tone, yet one filled with admiration.
“His name is—”
“—Cale Henituse—”
“—he’s the only—”
“—Slytherin who’s—”
“—adorable!”
If the older Weasley brothers could praise someone in such a friendly and affectionate tone, why did Ron say that Slytherin was a den of villains?
“Look! Look—!”
“—his handler is coming!”
Harry looked away, along with nearly everyone at Hogwarts, as a teenager from the Hufflepuff table got up and walked toward Henituse. He was a tall, handsome young man who looked like a good person. He had dark brown hair and a pair of gray eyes. He walked over and stood behind Henituse, who was still busy eating his pudding.
It was as if he were waiting for whoever was sitting next to Henituse to move over and make room for him to sit.
Sure enough, the Slytherin next to the red-haired teenager shifted while grumbling. His expression, along with that of several other Slytherins, looked annoyed, but there was a nuance Harry couldn’t quite explain—one that kept them silent and motionless. Even Malfoy, who had initially been so vocal about praising himself for entering the Slytherin dormitory and preparing to report it to his father.
“Why are you just eating pudding? You have to eat this sandwich first! Then you can have dessert—”
The boy, as if used to it, took over the supervision while chattering away. His hands deftly gathered a dinner of varied yet light options. Henituse, sitting beside him, simply nodded, letting himself be taken care of. The hands then set the pudding on the table and began eating the ham-stuffed sandwich.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
Wow. His voice.
Both Harry and a few new observers blushed upon hearing it. Like melted dark chocolate—deep, with a low tone—and as if containing a million promises ready to warm you.
“I’ll eat when Cale is ready to eat."
Henituse snorted. Since his bite of the ham sandwich was still small, the red-haired teenager split his dinner in half and offered one half to the other figure. The handsome face immediately lit up and beamed, accepting the shared food and devouring it right away. Regardless of the world around him glaring with hatred, the teenager’s attention remained fixed on Henituse.
“Who is he?”
Without realizing it, Harry asked again. For some reason, his eyes remained fixed on that strand of red hair. He felt a tingling sensation for some reason, accompanied by a pounding heart.
“His name is Cedric Diggory, the unofficial bodyguard of our beloved Young Master Cale Henituse!”
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.
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Running into Malfoy in the halls of Hogwarts was bad luck.
That first-year Slytherin would never run out of ideas for mocking Harry about his poor choice in befriending Ron, or for berating the “hand-me-downs” the Weasleys wore. Unsurprisingly, Malfoy even called his friend’s family 'Weasel' over and over again.
For Harry, life at Hogwarts would make a world of difference. Magic was merely a beautiful aspect separate from social life, but in the end, Harry was once again faced with a bully. Malfoy’s current attitude truly reminded him of his older cousin who never stopped picking on him—
“What’s going on here?”
A familiar voice rang out. Both first-years from Gryffindor and Slytherin turned their heads. For some reason, the sight of the two third-year teenagers, Diggory and Henituse, brought a strange sense of relief to the boy’s heart. Especially when a pair of reddish-brown eyes lazily flicked toward Malfoy, who was directly beneath their gaze. Wow.
“Nothing’s happening, Henituse, Diggory. Just saying hello to those unworthy of my gaze.”
Henituse tilted his head at Malfoy’s haughty reply, while the tall Hufflepuff gave a disappointed look. But just as he was about to respond—perhaps to offer some advice—the red-haired teenager stepped between the first-years.
“Logically speaking, if they’re truly ‘unworthy' of your gaze, why bother ‘saying hello’?” Henituse’s cold voice weighed heavily on the atmosphere, causing several nearby students to stop what they were doing.
“B-but, he really is—” Malfoy began to stammer, his cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment.
“Hm? And Weasel? Is your tongue too short to spell their names correctly?” To Harry’s surprise, the boy’s gray eyes began to well up, and he lowered his gaze. Crabbe and Goyle could only stand there in silence, looking dejected.
“Cale ...”
Diggory’s voice rang out, as if trying to stop his friend from going any further—
“If you really want to make friends, there’s no need to pick a fight, Young Malfoy.”
That sudden remark brought an instant silence. Malfoy, on the verge of tears and embarrassment, gaped in astonishment. His gray eyes darted back and forth between Henituse and Harry repeatedly, before his shoulders began to tremble and his fists clenched.
“I-I’m friends w-with them?!”
His skin was so pale that the flush on his cheeks stood out even more.
“NEVER!!!”
After shouting that, Malfoy immediately turned and stormed off. His henchmen looked back and forth between their fleeing leader and Henituse, their faces flushing—
“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, IDIOTS?! HURRY UP AND COME HERE!” Crabbe and Goyle reluctantly set off, their eyes lingering longingly on Henituse. How strange. Why do so many people act like that?
“Are you guys okay?” Diggory’s voice broke through their reverie, met with shy nods from both of them. Ron was almost enthusiastic, now seeing Henituse in a new light.
Harry, on the other hand, could feel the gaze of an older Slytherin student, watching him intently. “When I said that kid wanted to make friends, I was telling the truth.”
“Cale?”
Even Diggory looked just as surprised. That reaction made Henituse snort and shrug; his usually expressionless face suddenly broke into a grin—one that was very bad for the heart, especially seeing the Hufflepuff suddenly flustered, the tips of his ears starting to turn red.
“I thinks he’s a shy kid. He just doesn’t know how to express his frustration over rejection or shattered expectations.”
“Seriously? He doesn’t seem like that…,” Ron replied hesitantly, one eyebrow raised. His expression was a mix of disgust and surprise, imagining that a Malfoy actually wanted to be friends. Harry felt the same way.
“Who can guess the unseen thoughts of the heart?” Diggory nodded in agreement with his words.
“But his behavior is still inexcusable.” This time, it was Henituse who nodded.
Thinking about Henituse’s words—that he actually 'wanted to be friends with him'—Malfoy had indeed tried to befriend Harry. But still, his attitude really reminded him of Dudley—he ran a hand over the top of his head once.
“In the end, if that kid wants to be friends, he has to apologize first.”
His green eyes widened; he looked up and saw that the touch had come from Henituse’s hand, which was gazing at him calmly, so full of understanding. How?
“Go to class—you’ll be late.”
After that, Diggory also gave a smile and directions to the classroom they were headed for.
“Give me your bag, Cale. Let me carry it.” Without responding, the third-year Slytherin didn’t nod but handed over his school bag. All that remained in his hands were the two books he was clutching. The Hufflepuff, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the lack of response; on the contrary, the gray-eyed teenager’s face grew even brighter.
“We’re heading out first.”
Ron and Harry both nodded, watching the two teenagers walk away with undisguised admiration.
“That Diggory guy’s from Hufflepuff, and he seems to like Henituse—” muttered the youngest Weasley, his blue eyes still fixed on the empty space.
“I guess if there’s a Slytherin as cool as him, it’s no big deal.” His new friend shrugged, as if he didn’t really care about the prejudice, which made Harry smile.
Ron then leaned in to whisper something, “It’s just a hunch, but even though Henituse is still a third-year, Slytherin’s power is in his hands. What do you think, Harry?”
The one being asked nodded, thinking the same thing. Then he recalled a few moments, like when the Slytherins would instantly fall silent whenever Henituse was in the same room. Or when he walked past them. And now, the taunts automatically stopped the moment the red-haired teenager came into view.
Harry felt that, with Henituse in Slytherin, his life at Hogwarts would surely be peaceful.
... right?
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.
.
“Cale.”
“Hm?”
“Are you secretly a princess?”
It happened one morning.
The Great Hall was still mostly empty of students, so even conversations from a distance could be faintly heard. Harry lamented the arrangement of the house tables a little, but he also understood the rivalry between them. As a result, the Gryffindor table was at the far left and the Slytherin table at the far right.
Returning to Diggory’s question—Diggory, who was always faithfully by the side of the apple-red-haired teenager—Henituse shot him a flustered glance. He grew even more annoyed when the third-year Hufflepuff chuckled.
“On your shoulder. They look very comfortable.” The dark-haired teenager pointed to Henituse’s shoulder, which was indeed perched upon by a pair of canaries. They sat calmly, waiting their turn to be fed nuts by the Slytherin.
Only then did Henituse blink, as if realizing the birds’ presence because of Diggory’s question. Instead, the teenager simply hummed, “Do you have to be a princess to feed animals?”
At Diggory’s amused response, Henituse’s brow furrowed.
“But they starving?”
A third bird landed on the other side of his shoulder, and a cat appeared out of nowhere, sitting and purring on the table near Henituse. Diggory couldn’t help himself and finally burst into cheerful laughter. His face was so radiant that his good looks shone even brighter—a stark contrast to the quiet, gloomy atmosphere of Slytherin.
“Yeah, yeah. They look starving.”
Henituse nodded seriously, cutting a few pieces of meat to give to the cat.
Harry noticed the deep, loving gaze Diggory was directing at the owner of the reddish-brown eyes; for some reason, he felt embarrassed and immediately looked away.
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.
.
“Excuse me, Professor?”
All eyes turned away from Professor Sprout’s explanation to the familiar voice of the red-haired Slytherin, who was standing at the greenhouse door.
“Cale! My dear, why are you standing there? Come in! Is there a message from another professor or do you need something…?” This might have been the first time Harry saw Henituse smile.
Though faint, the smile instantly softened the noblewoman’s features. His reddish-brown eyes sparkled beautifully—perhaps due to the way the light played off Harry’s glasses—making Henituse’s eyes seem to shine even brighter for some reason.
“No, Professor. Just a message from Professor Snape.” Henituse stepped inside to hand over a slip of paper.
“Oh my! He didn’t have to send a student for this task! All it takes is a simple Levitation spell to send them.” The middle-aged woman clicked her tongue in annoyance, but her irritation vanished instantly as her hand rose to pat Henituse’s cheek, as if greeting a deeply beloved child.
“I forgot to mention this, but come see me after lunch. I’ve found the answer to your question. What do you think, Cale?”
Henituse’s smile widened, and a gasp escaped Brown from across the table—she was on the verge of fainting from the beauty radiating from her.
“Of course, Professor. Thank you so much.”
And as the curious Gryffindor duo—Ron and Harry—deliberately walked past the greenhouse on their way to charm class, inside, a smile was constantly etched on Henituse’s face. Accompanied by an admiring gaze as he listened to the professor’s explanation.
The Potter narrowed his eyes. Even though his vision was blurry, he could make out something Professor Sprout was holding up... dirt?
So, Henituse’s question was about 'dirt'? Does he like gardening?
As Ron and Harry were forced to leave, he caught a glimpse of Diggory. Just as the rumors suggested, he was always the one who came to pick up or drop off the beautiful Slytherin. The teenager with warm gray eyes was already there. He said something to the Herbology professor that made her laugh out loud. Henituse was then dragged out with a shout,
“Don’t worry, Professor! I’ll make sure Cale gets some sun!”
“… I’m not a plant that needs photosynthesis, you know …”
Despite his grumbling, Henituse let Diggory drag him away.
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.
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That afternoon was the day Harry Potter’s entire destiny changed.
The green-eyed boy sat slumped on the bathroom floor.
His hand clutched his stomach helplessly, still feeling nausea swirling around him and a sharp, throbbing pain threatening to shoot up to his head.
He didn’t know why.
The Dursleys rarely fed him. Unsurprisingly, they sometimes forgot to give him food, so Harry had to endure hunger all day long. If asked why, the boy would blankly recall the smiles and taunts from his uncle—as if they’d forgotten he even existed.
As if Harry would believe that. They actually liked to let him go hungry. As a sign of their superiority and desire to defeat magic—his hand rose again to cover his mouth. The nausea returned. Why? Even though Hogwarts provided plenty of delicious food. But why couldn’t Harry still eat his fill?
There was a knock on the bathroom door.
“Potter?”
His green eyes widened. He never expected the person who came to be the last person on his mind.
“He-henituse?”
A humming sound could be heard.
“Can you open the door for me?”
For a moment, doubt flashed through Harry’s mind.
Unlike the other Hogwarts students, who kept turning to look at Harry whenever he walked by or spoke with Ron—judging him through their stares and the title 'The Boy Who Lived'—based on the assumption that he was the savior of the wizarding world and that they expected a perfect, extraordinary hero. So, when 'Harry Potter' did something ordinary, there was a hint of disappointment there.
But Harry never gave their perspective much thought. Why did Henituse make an exception? Why was he afraid that the beautiful red-haired teenager would give him the same look? When 'Harry Potter' turned out to be weak and threw up from eating too much?
“Here. Drink this.”
A bottle was tossed down from above the bathroom stall.
“That bottle contains Pepperup Potion to relieve nausea and dizziness. After you drink it, don’t forget to go rest. I’ll let them know you’re absent.”
...
...
Harry’s eyes welled up.
How could Henituse know? About the nausea and dizziness Harry was feeling?
Without realizing it, the teenager stood up. Still clutching the bottle of potion in one hand, he reached for the doorknob with the other and opened it slowly. His heart raced with strange and overwhelming feelings. When he saw the red-haired Slytherin teenager waiting calmly there.
“Do you let me touch you?” Dazed, Harry could only nod. His shoulders, which had been tense, gradually relaxed, and all that remained was resignation.
With his eyes closed, he felt the soothing sensation of Henituse’s hand resting on his forehead. It then moved to his cheek before ending at his neck.
“You've got a fever. Can you still walk?” Harry nodded and tried to take a step forward, but immediately staggered.
“Drink the potion first. We’ll take you to be examined by Madam Pomfrey—” Harry immediately shook his head. Suddenly, the thought of all the attention he’d receive after falling ill like this felt even more terrifying.
“I’ll keep quiet. So, don’t worry. Let’s check on you first, okay? It’s fine if you don’t feel quite right for a day.” Moved by those last words, Harry finally drank the potion obediently and leaned into Henituse’s touch on his cheek and jaw.
Vaguely, the poor boy heard the Slytherin calling out to Diggory. Then, another presence appeared in the bathroom, and he was carried away by a taller teenager. Harry tried to speak—to refuse or to start babbling in fear. But as his vision darkened—whether from the hood of his cloak or the sudden wave of drowsiness—the little Gryffindor’s heart immediately felt at peace.
“You’ll be okay. Go to sleep, little lion.”
The red-haired Slytherin is like an apple among snakes. For besides his strikingly beautiful and charming appearance, Cale Henituse’s heart turned out to be as kind as his smile.
“Thank you.”
Henituse smiled, and Harry held back his tears. His hand gripped Diggory’s uniform tighter, allowing himself to be cared for for the very first time—under the arm of someone who truly cared about 'Harry'.
“You’re welcome.”
Harry was glad he’d come to Hogwarts.
