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Chapter Text

A lot can be learned from life inside a cupboard. Now that’s not to say it’s a preferable situation over, well, most other living spaces, but there are upsides. For Boy, one of the best things about his cupboard is that it is too small for raging walrus-like uncles to get into. Boy was rejoicing in this helpful fact, curled up in the smallest corner of his cupboard, for once only nursing a few bruises. He had learned something today, though he forgot one of his uncle’s main rules in his excitement. Today he learned his name.

Harry James Potter.

It had a decent ring to it, Boy, or Harry rather, supposed. He had been Boy for as long as he could recall, although it made sense that he had a name, it would take some time for him to get used to. The five-year-old was rather good at assimilating to new situations, an aftereffect of his Uncle’s favorite game, “let’s change the rules and only tell Boy once he’s broken one”.

School was soon Harry’s favorite place to be. Despite his cousin's efforts to make sure Harry miserable, he found himself happy despite Dudley scaring off all potential friends. Upon learning to read, the library became a haven for the small wizard. The librarians wouldn’t put up with noise, so Dudley and his friends never got to stay long. The sheer amount of knowledge available was enthralling. Going outside for recess quickly became something to avoid at all costs in Harry’s book, mainly because of Harry Hunting. After three weeks of Harry Hunting and one unexplainable trip to the school roof, he swore off the playground for the time being.

By the end of the first term, Boy had learned a few more lessons from his uncle. One: he will always be Boy at home. Freaks don’t get normal people names. Two: freaks don’t do better than Duddiums, despite the fact that it is hard to do worse than the dim chubby boy. And three: freaks don’t have friends. The few children that dared try and befriend Boy were quickly scared off by Dudley and his gang.
By the end of primary school, Harry was quite the paradox for the teachers. He could answer any and every question correctly when asked verbally, but any of his official tests showed him to be at the very bottom of his class. Harry had not been idle in school, despite his Uncle’s restrictions, he refused to hold himself back. He had practically lived in the library, eating up the information like some kind of machine. He did not read for the sake of reading, however, while he did enjoy reading, it was what he could do with the information that kept him coming back for more. One book, in particular, made quite the difference in Harry’s early years

The Organized Mind was a helpful tool for Harry to build his own safe haven. The book described a way to organize your thoughts by picturing a place you knew well and ‘storing’ information, such as memories or information from school in different places, making them easier to find when needed. The main recommendation was your bedroom, a place most people could recall from memory without a problem. Harry, however, found the idea of spending even more time in his cupboard, even if it was in his mind, quite distasteful. He instead took the harder road and crafted his own mindscape. Every night before bed he made his way into his safe haven.

He began with a bedroom. Not one like the one Dudley had, cluttered with meaningless things, but rather one like rooms he had read about. It was simple at first. Just a simple bed and bookshelves. But as he progressed it grew, soon the room was furnished with a large four poster bed, wardrobe, and a desk. A window looked onto grounds not unlike a forest, with trees towering high above the imagined room. It was upon realizing that he could make a world past the single room that Harry began adding more rooms to his little house, for that is what it became. A library housed all the wonderful information he gathered from school. An office became a place for him to think, many a work in progress was left in the ‘drawers’ of his large desk. His bedroom was his place of peace. He would lay down on the bed and clear his mind of anything and everything bothering him, which most of the time ended up being some injury or another. His house did come with a cupboard, though it took quite a bit of deliberation before he did so, but he needed a place for negative memories. All the information and memories from his life at the Dursleys was locked away under the stairs as he often was.

Harry was in his fourth year of primary school when he first felt it. There was something in his forest and it felt wrong. As if it didn’t belong. While he spent quite a bit of time ignoring it, he eventually reached the point of action on the feeling. He did what any other nine-year-old would do in his situation. He hid from it. The picture window in his bedroom became just that, a picture, as he moved his entire ‘house’ underground. He imagines miles upon miles of dirt and rock above him, separating from the strange dark entity that lived within the forest of his mind.

The summer was the worst time of the year for Harry. Mostly because Harry wasn’t allowed to exist. Petunia and Vernon’s slave, Boy, lived in his place. Boy rarely left the property, and the Walrus had no reason to avoid bruising Boy, as there was no one to take notice. When strange things happened around Boy he would be ‘properly punished’. The week after the snake incident was the worst week he had endured in years. He wasn’t fed once the entire time and had to sneak drinks of water from the bathroom sink during his few blessed bathroom breaks. The day of his release he was near delirious from hunger, which was the only reason his brain could come up with for the letter currently in his hands. There was a letter addressed to him. Not to Boy, but to Harry James Potter, The cupboard under the stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Littl- wait! How did they know about the cupboard? Snapping out of his food-starved haze Harry further scrutinized the letter. Who could-

“BOY! GET YOUR SKINNY ASS IN HERE! WHERE IS MY MAIL?”

Startled out of his thought process, he quickly shoved the letter into his cupboard and hurried into the kitchen with the stack of mail in hand.

“Right here, Uncle.”

He set the mail down in front of his uncle, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed, as he awaited the punishment that was sure to come for his slowness. The meaty hand brought down to cuff Boy aside the head held force enough to send him stumbling.

“You’ll remember your place BOY, no dallying. When I ask you to do something you DO IT, post haste!” Boy didn’t dare look up at his uncle, knowing eye contact was seen as defiance. He also knew that if he were to look he would be met with the sight of his uncles purpling face as he ranted on. “Now off with you, back to your cupboard.” Petunia shoved the stale ends of the bread loaf into his hands before ushering him back out of the kitchen. The food was quickly scarfed down, as he didn’t want to give his shrunken stomach time to refuse the sudden food.

Full for the first time in what felt like forever, Harry cautiously pulled on the string that lit the bulb in his cupboard, retrieving the envelope from where he had tossed it earlier.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

Witchcraft and wizardry? What is this, some kind of prank? A bit complex for Dudley… It was then that Harry began thought back to all of his ‘freakish’ behavior, just last week for example, he set that snake on Dudley at the zoo. Not to mention when he turned Ms. Manning’s hair blue, or when he ended up on the roof on the playground. Witchcraft actually made sense in these circumstances… But how to get these supplies, surely you can’t buy cauldrons and a wand in London? For that matter, how does he reply? They await my owl? Perhaps… I’ll look for one when I go out to weed the garden tomorrow. They must have sent one if they expect me to reply this way.

As Harry had expected, a nondescript barn owl was sat in a tree behind the Dursley house. Making sure Petunia was busy inside the house, he quickly made his way over to the tree, reply in hand. The owl flew down on silent wings and took the piece of notebook paper from the small boy’s hands before flying off.

To whom it may concern,

I would like to formally accept my invitation to your school and also inquire where I can find the supplies listed on my letter. I would also like instructions for how I am to get to Hogwarts on September first.

Thank you,

Harry James Potter

With the letter sent, Harry went back to work, resigned to his position until the return of the owl.

+++

It was three grueling days before the owl returned with his letter. He was once again slaving over his aunt’s garden when a letter was unceremoniously dropped in front of him from above. His only warning was a soft hoot before the bird flew off once more. Apparently, Harry thought with amusement, they aren’t expecting me to reply this time. Tucking the letter away in the waistband of his pants, he paused momentarily at the extra weight in one corner of the envelope. A bit more than just a letter then. Well, only one way to find out what else they had sent, and he wouldn't be able to open it until he was back in his cupboard.

When he was finally sent back to his cupboard for the night, he ripped open the letter, wildly curious as to what it could contain.

Mr. Potter,

We at Hogwarts are pleased to receive your acceptance. You will find the entrance to Diagon Alley through the pub “The Leaky Cauldron” visible from muggle London. The entrance can be found next to 192 Baker Street, London. The sign should be visible to your aunt, as she made the trip once before with her sister, your mother, and thusly will not be affected by the muggle repelling charm. This key is to your Gringotts trust vault, left to you by your parents. As for your arrival at Hogwarts, your ticket for the Hogwarts express should have been included in your acceptance letter. You will find the entrance to platform 9 ¾ between the barriers of platform 9 and 10. Just push your cart through the wall, it is an illusion hiding the door. I’m sure if you ask your aunt she can tell you more about it. We await your arrival.

Deputy Headmistress,
Minerva McGonagall

The weight it turned out, was a key. A vault key to be exact. Apparently, his parents had left him some money, wizarding money at that. Now he just had to get to the bank it was stored at and get his supplies… easier said than done.

+++

Harry’s plan was not without fault, but it was the best he could do with the given circumstances. There was a week until Harry would be expected to board the train to Hogwarts and he had yet to acquire his supplies. The reason for this was the amount of time it took Harry to stash away enough cash and spare change for a taxi fare to London. The weekend before the first of September Harry had finally snuck enough change and bills from around the house to make his escape.

Wearing the nicest clothing he owned (which were still almost three sizes too big for him) pockets full of bills and spare change, key tied to a piece of twine around his neck, Harry Potter left the hell hole he called a home for the past ten years for good. I refuse to return here if I don’t have to, Privet drive has never been my home. His back turned to the house, Harry did not see the flash of light that emanated from the home in response to his thoughts. Instead, he made his way forward to the next chapter of his young life. Somewhere in Scotland, a small spinning silver instrument went still.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t often in his life that Harry found himself thankful for his upbringing. Right now he had to admit it gifted him with the helpful skill of existing outside the notice of those around him. The shadows were his friend, they hid him from the prying eyes of the pub patrons. After watching a number of what he could only assume were witches and wizards, based on the robe-like clothing they wore, disappear through a back door, he followed suit. The letter did say the entrance was through the pub. Hanging behind the doorway, he peeked around into the back room just in time to see a man tap a long piece of wood, must be a wand, in a complex pattern on the brick wall. At the fifth tap, the bricks seemed to fold into each other, creating a doorway to a street bustling with activity. Quickly darting after the tall wizard into the street, Harry looked around in barely veiled awe at the shops around him. There was an Apothecary with actual eyeballs kept in a jar in the window, a pet shop with owls and toads instead of fish or parakeets. It was an explosion of sensory input and for a moment Harry thought he might actually black out. Luckily, someone chose that exact moment to knock into him, jarring him out of his pseudo-panicked state.

“Watch where you’re going street rat.”

The tall blonde man who had knocked into him growled out before hurrying along. Apparently, Harry thought bitterly Adults are still assholes in the Wizarding World. Shaking himself off, he continued on, more purpose in his stride as he resumed his search for the bank. This time not allowing himself to get distracted by his surroundings.

Gringotts was very hard to miss once Harry had made his way further into the alley it seemed to loom before him, towering over the surrounding buildings. He crept his way into the bank, quickly darting back into the shadows at his first chance. He would observe the goings on of the other patrons before deciding on a course of action himself. After all, those unsuited to a new environment are doomed to perish in it. Better to watch and adapt rather than make a fool of himself.

Harry was just about to make his way to one of the empty tellers, run by goblins if what he had overheard was correct when a hand on his arm pulled him once more out of his thoughts.

“And what do you think you’re doing, sneaking around our bank?”

Harry spun on his heel to face the owner of the gruff voice, only to find one of the bank goblins peering up at him with a scowl on his face.

“Oh… ummm. Sorry, Sir. I was just trying to figure out how the bank worked before I made my way to one of the tellers… I didn’t mean to cause any trouble mr…” Harry trailed off, unsure how to address the goblin in front of him. Said goblin seemed to be examining him, obviously wondering what a scruffy young boy could be doing at a bank.

“You may call me Silverstone if you have business with the bank I will assist you. If not, loitering is not tolerated and I will remove you from the premises.” The goblin was quite curious as to who this wizard was. It would seem that the boy was muggle-born from his actions, though most of those children treated the goblins with fear, not respect as the wizard in front of him had.

“Thank you, Silverstone. I do have business with the bank. I would like to see my vault and retrieve some money for school supplies. I have my key here.” As he spoke, Harry pulled the key out from where it hung under his shirt, showing it to the goblin. “It would also be very helpful If you could maybe explain the currency here to me? If it’s not too much to ask that is. I don’t mean to be an inconvenience, sir.” The boy’s rambling was cut off by a low chuckle that emanated from the goblin.

“It will not be an inconvenience Mr…” Silverstone trailed off, motioning with his hand for Harry to give his name.

“Harry Potter, sir.” Harry flushed as he responded, embarrassed to have forgotten to introduce himself. The wizard noted that the goblin’s eyes seemed to bug out of his skull upon hearing his name, perhaps my parents were rich? Why else would he recognize my name?

“Follow me, Mr. Potter, I have a feeling you will have more questions for me before the day is through.” Silverstone began leading Harry to a door behind the teller’s desks, stealing a glance at the waif-like boy every few steps. This was Harry Potter? Savior of the wizarding world? The boy acted like he had no clue how the bank worked. Like some muggle-born, almost as if… no, that couldn’t be right, the Boy-Who-Lived, raised by muggles? If that was the case, this was going to be a long meeting indeed.

Harry followed the goblin to a richly furnished office. The plaque outside the door read “Vault Manager Silverstone” giving Harry the idea that the goblin helping him was of some importance to the bank. Or maybe all the employees had offices? Not important harry, focus on the task ahead. Push the questions in the Office for now. By the time Harry had sat down in the chair facing Silverstone’s desk, he had successfully stashed the questions away in his Office and was once more fully focused on the Vault Manager in front of him.

“Mr. Potter, from what I have seen from you so far, can I assume this is your first time interacting with the Wizarding World?” There was a calculating gleam in the goblin’s eye that made Harry once again wonder what the goblin knew of him. Information is power after all.

“Yes sir, I received my Hogwarts letter this past month and haven’t been to Diagon Alley until today.” Harry paused, trying to decide whether the goblin would answer his question. Coming to the conclusion that he had nothing to lose, he decided to just ask. “If you don’t mind my asking sir, why did you look at me so oddly after I introduced myself? The only thing I could think of is that my parents were wealthy enough for you to know of their name, but I thought I would ask in case I was wrong.” The goblin only stared at first, making Harry shift uncomfortably in his chair. He was a boy born to the shadows, scrutiny was something he did not often fall under.

+++

Silverstone’s answer was not at all what Harry was expecting. He was famous! Of all the reasons for the goblin’s stare that had not even crossed his mind. And for something he didn’t even remember doing too. Apparently, he was going to need to get used to being in the spotlight. Oh well, I have adapted before, looks like I need to once more. But first, information.

“Thank you for telling me all that. Could we possibly move on to my vault information? I could use something a little more benign while I settle my thoughts.” The goblin chuckled at the wizard’s assumption that there would be nothing exciting about his vaults.

“Sure thing Mr. Potter. First off, we will be covering your vaults, not just one vault. The key you have is to your trust vault, you have access to that one until you come to magical maturity at 16, then you can take up the role as the head of House Potter and have use of the rest of the Potter vaults, as well as take an inheritance test to see if Magic has claimed you as heir to any other vaults.” Silverstone could only look on with amusement as the boy’s eyes grew wider and wider with each word out of the goblin’s mouth.

“I’m sorry… what? Head of House Potter? Magical Maturity? Magic will claim… what?” Harry was thoroughly confused. Try as he might he could not sort the new information as fast as it was being given to him and quite honestly he was getting dizzy again.

“You are from a long line of Magical Purebloods, meaning they only married witches and wizards into the family. The Potter line can be traced for thousands of years and thusly, as the last Potter alive, you will be given the mantle of Lord Potter upon your 16 th birthday. Witches and Wizards reach their magical maturity when they turn 16, it is on this day that you will become a legal adult in the wizarding world, as well as receive any magical inheritance you may be entitled to, such as the title of Lord Potter, as well as any inheritances that Magic herself may grant you, though this is a much less common occurrence.” The goblin paused to make sure Harry was still following, happy that the boy seemed mostly focused on the goings-on around him, Silverstone continued. “When a magical line dies out the magic tied to that line does not disappear, instead it once more becomes one with the wild magic until Magic herself decided to bestow the family magic back into a wizarding bloodline. Every magical family, especially the old ones, have very specific magical talents inherent to their bloodline. The Blacks, for example, have been known to have shapeshifters or metamorphmaguses in their family. The Lovegood family is known for giving birth to Seers and the Gaunt line is known for Parselmouths, or wizards who can speak to snakes.” Silverstone paused here, noting that the boy had stiffened at his last sentence, could it be? “Do you have something to add, Mr. Potter?”

Harry shifted once more in his chair, before steeling himself to the goblin’s gaze. Somehow I don’t think the Lord of anything important fidgets in his chair like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Are these gifts always genetic? Or could you have one without being related to a certain family line?” For the first time since he sat down, Harry made eye contact with the goblin, pleased to see the Vault Manager didn’t seem annoyed by the interruption.

“It would be extremely rare, Mr. Potter, but not unheard of. Do you mind me inquiring why you asked?” And there was the scrutiny again, Harry really needed to get used to this. Once more gathering his courage Harry responded.

“I think I’m a Parselmouth sir, I spoke with a snake at the zoo a couple months ago. Is that a bad thing?” While he had started off strong, the look he was given by the goblin caused him to waver towards the end of his statement.

“The Goblin Nation has nothing against those with your particular gift, Mr. Potter. However, it is seen by many in the Wizarding world as a dark trait. Voldemort being the last known Parselmouth in Wizarding Britain is the cause for most of this bias.” The goblin sent an unreadable look at the small wizard in front of him as he spoke. Harry sighed. Of course, there would be more reasons for people to ostracize him. “If that is all Mr. Potter, We can make our way to your trust vault and you can get on with your day. I’m sure you can find more information on the prominent families in Britain at Flourish and Blotts, the main bookstore in the Alley, though there would probably be better reading material down Knockturn Alley. Your decision really.”

Harry was soon after ushered down to his vault in a cart ride that was really not safe, even if it was fun. He filled a bottomless pouch Silverstone provided him, for a price of course, though it was worth the gold as it would only open for Harry. He was given a brief overview of wizarding currency and how much they were worth in comparison to the muggle pound, and then sent on his way. From the looks he was still drawing from his oversized muggle clothing, Harry figured robes would be his first stop. The first shop he spotted seemed to be teeming with student age customers, apparently, that was the go-to place for school robes. Not wanting to bother with that right now, Harry ducked into another tailor in the Alley, Turnings, which held a wide variety of everyday wear, as well as formal robes. They did not however, Harry noted with interest, carry school robes. Lost in his musings he nearly jumped out of his skin when the shop owner approached him.

“Something I can help you with dear? I should warn you, my stock is a bit more pricey than most can afford.” The tall auburn haired women sneered at his grubby hand me downs, obviously doubting that such a poorly dressed young man had the Galleons needed to afford her wares. Not liking this woman’s treatment, Harry decided to find out just how well known he was.

“I assure you, ma’am, I am more than capable of purchasing your wares. Though, perhaps I would be better taking my business elsewhere? I’m sure there are others that are shops more than willing to serve the Potter heir, yes?” Harry found immense satisfaction in the shock filled expression on the woman’s face. As well as the subsequent ass kissing.

“Harry Potter! Of course, of course, I apologize for not recognizing you. How may I help you, sir?” Her eyes flickered up to his forehead, zoning in on the scar there with obvious awe. With the women nearly drooling over herself to help him, and keep his business, Harry quickly had a full wizarding wardrobe as well as some trousers and pullovers that actually fit him. He changed into a pair of black slacks and a grey tunic-like shirt that Harry assumed was the wizarding equivalent of a t-shirt. The belt around his waist had a clasp for his new Galleon bag and looking in the mirror as he left, Harry barely recognized himself. He looked like any other wizarding child making their way through the Alley. The one thing about the outfit that would take time to get used to is the cloak. The shop owner, Miss. Turning, insisted that he buy a few, seeing as they were a common accessory for wizard wear. The deep forest green cloak was by far the nicest thing he bought in the shop, but he had to agree with the woman that it suited him well.

It was midday by the time Harry had finished at his wardrobe shopping, and while he was hungry, he was reluctant to eat before he had a wand and some material to read. So far it was looking like the week before school would start wouldn’t be nearly enough time to learn everything that was expected of him. Remembering Silverstone’s advice, the young wizard looked around for the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Well, though harry upon spotting the aforementioned Alley makes sense why Silverstone was wary to advise me to look there. That seems to be a less than friendly area. Best not make any enemies until I’m better informed. Decision made, Harry pulled up his hood and ducked into Knockturn. He weaved through the crowd until he came upon what appeared to be a bookshop, tucked between an odds and ends store and some kind of pawn shop called Borgin and Burke’s.

The store owner merely glanced at the short hooded figure before turning back to whatever book he had been reading behind his desk. Quickly making his way through the stacks, he stopped at a section titled “genealogy” where he found a book of genealogy charts, another on the recorded family alliances and feuds and a third one on the different family magic. His stack of books only grew as he made his way through the store, adding a few on traditional Wizarding holidays, the comings and goings of the Ministry of Magic and finally a collection on etiquette and customs. If the store owner blinked twice at the collection of tomes, Harry didn’t notice. Quite quickly Harry found himself quite a few Galleons lighter and lugging a shrunken handful of books around in one of his cloak pockets.

He was on his way to back to Diagon Alley and the wand shop he had seen there when he spotted a familiar head of white blonde hair exiting the pawn shop he had taken note of earlier. The man certainly carried himself like someone of importance. Between his upturned nose and immaculate robes, Harry felt certain he would come across the blond man in at least one of his books. The man’s mercurial gaze slipped past the small figure in green with the same dismissive air he had when shoving past Harry that morning.

+++

Ollivander was not entirely human, of this Harry was fairly certain. Not only did his store sign claim that it had been there more than two thousand years the way the man, if he could be called that, seemed to look directly into Harry’s soul screamed supernatural. Well, more supernatural than your run of the mill wizard at least. Needless to say, Harry was more than happy to be out of the man’s shop once he had found his wand, twin to Voldemort or no, he had his own wand now!

Harry was nearly starving by the time he had stepped back into the leaky cauldron in search of something to eat. He was quickly placed at a quiet table in the back of the restaurant and nearly inhaled his food. It had been months since his last proper meal and he wasn’t about to let even a crumb go to waste now. Once full, he proceeded to pull out his books and set to work learning all he could about his new home. It wasn’t too long before Harry came across the description of the Malfoy family. Rich as dirt, striking blonde hair, very powerful politically, he would bet anything that the man who had barreled him over was the Lord Malfoy. There were no ties between the two families, good or bad. So he would have to make a decision on their character by himself.

Further exploration into the Potter family showed quite a few ties, and a good many feuds as well. He explored the alliances first. The most recent allies were with the families Longbottom, Bones, and Weasley. These three seem to have been made during the war, so Harry assumed they were all on the same side, the “light” side if he recalled correctly. It seemed a little odd, to group people as Good and Bad, when most were a bit of both. If his childhood taught him anything, it was to think for himself. Had he not, he’d be back in his cupboard actively accepting his treatment as proper for a ‘freak’. He would have to look into the politics of the situation before making any opinions. After all, a few of the older alliances with the Potter family were strongly aligned with the “dark” side of the war. The Blacks, for example, had been in an alliance with the Potters since his great-grandmother Dorea Potter nee’ Black married into the family. The Peverells were another family that was speculated to be dark, though their line had died out, they had married into the Potter line centuries ago. The final alliance was with the Prewett family, another ‘light’ family, this one formed towards the beginning of the 19 th century for reasons unknown. As far as Harry could tell, the Potters had always had fingers in both pies. A grey aligned family. The youngest Potter couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.

+++

After his lunch and subsequent reading, Harry made his way to finally get his school supplies. He walked past the bookshop for now, as it was still horribly full, he made his way to Madam Malkin’s for his school robes. Luckily, they rush around the shop from earlier in the day seemed to have died down. There were a few people meandering around the shop, but only one other person was getting fitted. The boy appeared to be around Harry’s age, he looked around in a way that quickly reminded Harry of, who he had assumed to be, Lord Malfoy. Perhaps they were related? They certainly had the same coloring, white blonde hair and silver eyes.

“Hogwarts as well dear?” The lady that was working on the blonde boy’s robes inquired at Harry. “Why don’t you get up on that platform right here and I’ll call for one of my helpers.” She smiled at Harry as he quickly followed her instructions and hopped up on the platform. Turning her head towards the back of the shop she hollered for the helper. “Candice! Come up front and help me, please! We’ve got another first year for Hogwarts looking for a robe.” The stout woman that bustled up from the back room gave Harry a charming smile before taking his cloak and getting to work.

“You’re a first year too then?” Harry nearly missed the blond boy’s question in all the commotion.

“Yeah. You excited for Hogwarts I assume?” Harry asked, praying that he would survive the conversation. Talking to people your own age is a little daunting when you’ve never really done so before. As much as he had gained from growing up in the school library, it was times like these that he cursed his cousin.

“I’d be stupid not to be! Although,  I think I might have to smuggle in my broom. Imagine, a whole year without flying, I think I’ll go mad! Do you play quidditch too?” The blonde spoke so fast Harry very nearly lost the conversation, not to mention he had no clue what quidditch is, only that it must somehow involve flying on brooms.

“I’ve not played Quidditchh, no. Though, seeing as we can’t play until second year, it doesn’t matter to me much.” Harry sighed, there was still so much he didn’t know. If only there wasn’t so much more to buy for school, he needed to read more of those books. Maybe I’ll buy a few on recent history when I go to get my school books…

Draco looked a bit off put by Harry’s admission to not caring about quidditch, seeing as, in his mind, every boy his age played. Unless… the boy was carrying a book when he entered. “Ravenclaw then? You probably care more about books than about flying. Personally, I’m going to be in Slytherin, it is the best house after all, my whole family has been in Slytherin. Though, you could do worse than Ravenclaw, like Gryffindor, or god forbid, Hufflepuff.” The blonde made a face as he spoke the last two, as if just mentioning them left a bad taste in his mouth.

Harry, quite confused as to what they were now talking about, just hummed noncommittally hoping the other boy would change the subject before it became apparent how little Harry actually knew. Luckily it was in this lull in their conversation that the seamstress, Candice, who had been fitting Harry cut in. “Dear, I need your name so I can put your name on your robes, once I do that you’re all done!” She smiled kindly up at Harry from where she was sat on a stool hemming his new robe. Well, here goes nothing, I wonder if they’ll have the same reaction as the other lady?

“Harry James Potter, ma’am.” Harry was pleased to see that aside from the slight widening of her eyes, Candice didn’t start drooling over him as the last tailor had. Instead, she just smiled and got to work finishing up his robe, professionalism at its finest.

Draco, however, was a different reaction altogether. “ You’re Harry Potter!?” The boys silver eyes seemed almost cloudy with disbelief as they quickly studied the dark haired boy, stopping his gaze at his forehead. Shaking himself off the blonde turned and stuck out his hand. “I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” His face once more was the closed off mask of a Pureblood heir, any sign of his previous confusion gone from his face. Harry’s lips quirked at the reaction, apparently, Silverstone was correct about his name getting him attention from high on the social ladder.

“Well met Heir Malfoy. Harry James Potter.” Harry clasped his hand around Draco’s forearm as he gave, what he remembered from his reading to be, a traditional greeting. It was odd to use his full name, but no matter. He hadn’t read much of his etiquette book yet, though he was fairly sure that had been the correct response. He was proven correct when Draco observed his response with a small smile.

“I’m glad to hear you’ve been properly raised Heir Potter. I’m sure-“ He cut himself off as a familiar blonde Wizard made his way into the shop.

“Ah, Draco, there you are. Your mother is waiting for us at Flourish and Blotts.” Stopping in front of the boys Harry couldn’t withhold the shiver the tall man’s piercing gaze provoked. “Who’s this then?” The man didn’t even direct the question to Harry, much to the small boy’s chagrin, but instead to his son. Draco Harry thought is much more tolerable than his father.

“Father, may I introduce you to the Heir Potter, Harry James.” Harry couldn’t withhold the small smirk from his face at the (quickly veiled) look of shock on Malfoy seniors face at Draco’s response. He turned stiffly to the small dark haired boy, eyes scanning his clothing, which was now once more visible as the seamstress had removed the robes to spell his name on them. After a few heartbeats, apparently finding whatever he was looking for, the elder wizard bowed slightly to the younger wizard.

“Well met Heir Potter.”  Though there was no emotion on the man’s face, Harry imagined he was sneering internally, if his actions so far were any indication to his character. Harry mirrored the action, bowing a little deeper than the man had to him in a nod to the man’s superiority in age. This was entirely instinctive on Harry’s part, he had not read anything on bowing in the wizarding world. He had read about bowing in many Asian cultures and just prayed that the system was similar here. Not like he’ll call me out on it in public. Pretty sure that would be a social no no. Seemingly satisfied with the bow, Lucius turned back to his son. “We must be off now Draco.” And with that he turned and left, obviously expecting his son to follow, which he did. Not before saying farewell, however.

“See you on the train Potter!” Draco shot over his shoulder as he exited the shop in tow of his sire. Harry just waved. Once the Malfoys were out of sight Harry suddenly felt like a deflated balloon. Who knew social posturing could be so exhausting. He could only hope it got easier with practice.

+++

The rest of the day went by without incident. Alongside his school books, he purchased some history books, including a large tome Hogwarts a History , which he hoped would explain the houses Draco had mentioned in the robe shop.  The only other exciting part of his day was at the trunk shop. Apparently, there was something referred to as ‘Wizard space’ that could make the inside of something much bigger than the outside. His trunk had three compartments, each opened with a different key. One was what Harry could only describe as a walk in closet. The second was a small library-like room with shelves for walls and a small desk at the back of the room. The third was much smaller than the other two, but was much better protected, it required the key and a password. He had no clue what he would put in there yet, but it sounded handy so he bought it regardless. The best part about the entire trunk was the permanent featherlight charm and the fact that tapping the lid with his wand would shrink it down small enough to fit in his hand.

Finding somewhere to stay for the week was a bit of a challenge. The leaky cauldron wouldn’t give him a room without an adult present, so he ended up at a small hole in the wall in Knockturn. He paid upfront for the week and made his way to the small room. It wasn’t the safest place to stay but it was an actual room, so Harry wasn’t complaining. He didn’t actually leave the room much that week. He came down for a meal once a day, but otherwise spent his days reading or sorting information in his Mind Bunker. The only errand he did go on was the day before he was to leave for King’s Cross. Remembering the owl used to send him letters back home he made a trip to the Owl Emporium, returning with a beautiful snowy owl he named Hedwig after a witch in one of his history books.

Chapter Text

The week was over in what felt like no time. Harry had read through most of his course books, as well as the etiquette books and most of the recent history books. Apparently, he was quite the figurehead, being mentioned in quite a few of the texts. He headed to King’s Cross Station armed with all this new information, dressed in a pair of his new fitted black slacks and another of the tunic like shirts in a deep blue. His cloak was stashed away in his trunk, he’d be walking through the Muggle station after all.

Kings Cross was hectic that Saturday morning. The trunk in his pocket Harry easily slipped through the crowd to the barrier.  He had sent Hedwig free that morning, confident that when the man at the Emporium told him she would make her own way to Hogwarts, he wasn’t lying.  The very solid looking barrier. Well, I have nothing to lose, I suppose. In an attempt to look inconspicuous he slowly leaned against the wall, only slightly surprised when he went through it as if there was nothing there. Entering the platform reminded Harry strongly of his first glance at Diagon Alley. The platform was busy, a bright mix of people in both robes and muggle clothing hurried about, helping children onto the train.

Harry hurried past groups of families in the midst of touching goodbyes, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his chest at the fact that that will never be me. Violently ripping himself from his melancholy thoughts he continued on his path towards the gleaming scarlet engine on the tracks ahead of him.

Apparently getting aboard the train while everyone else was busy with goodbyes was a good idea, as it took very little time for Harry to find an empty compartment. Realizing he was in for a long wait, he pulled his trunk from his pocket, tapping it with his wand to restore it to full size, before pulling out the keys he had on a chain around his neck and unlocking his book compartment. He retrieved the books on magical creatures he had been reading and annotating the day before.  One of the books was from Flourish and Blotts, which he was starting to understand as being more ministry regulated, as opposed to the book he got in Knockturn, which he was starting to worry might not be entirely legal for him to own. At least he finally found a use for the third compartment.

By the time the train had started to move Harry was still alone in his compartment, books sprawled around him as he worked. Parchment, he was finding, was not easy to take notes on. While annotating in the margins of the books was fine, he was starting to miss muggle notebooks. Thank god he at least had some pens, writing with ink and a quill on the train was a disaster waiting to happen. He was still surrounded by his little tornado of books and paper when the door to his compartment was opened by a familiar blonde, flanked by two boulder-like boys.

“Knew you were the Ravenclaw type Potter.” The blonde teased in his signature aristocratic drawl. “What’s all this then? Can’t wait until after the sorting to prove your place?” Chuckling, Draco sat on the opposite bench. With a dismissive wave of his hand, the two boys still hovering in the doorway walked away, closing the compartment door behind them.

Harry looked up from his books to study the boy in front of him. He would be a powerful friend to have, although there was a flaw with that plan. The “friend” bit would be entirely improvised on Harry’s part. Draco had entered the compartment and immediately started to tease the smaller boy, though somehow it didn’t seem malicious. Perhaps this was friendly teasing? A little lost as to how he was supposed to read the situation, Harry decided not to take offense this time. He would figure out the difference eventually. He gave the blonde a tentative smile before responding. “Well, if your interaction with those boys you came here with is any indication, you seem to be doing the same for your spot in Slytherin.” Harry’s smile only grew as the older boy actually laughed at his comment, not at him, but at what he said.

“Fair point Potter, fair point. Though I really am curious, what are you doing?” He stood up as he asked, walking over to see the books and parchment Harry had been writing in. Eyes widening at the books from Knockturn. Well, that theory was just confirmed, he’d have to be more careful with where he reads those.

“I’m comparing the ministry approved books on magical creatures with books from… an alternate source. I’m curious what the ministry doesn’t want us to know. So far it’s pretty interesting. Did you know there’s a potion that makes werewolves harmless during the full moon? The ministry actually regulates it, crazy right?” It seemed a bit hypocritical of the ministry to keep werewolves from holding jobs or having children because of the danger they posed, and then regulating something that got rid of the danger.

Draco looked curiously down at the notes Harry had taken so far, having been unaware of this himself. He knew of the potion, of course, his godfather had created it. What he hadn’t known was that it was regulated so severely.  “That is curious. We could ask my godfather when we get to Hogwarts. He’s the Potions Master there, as well as the Head of Slytherin. He invented this potion, I’m sure he knows why.” There was a definite note of pride in Draco’s voice as he spoke of his godfather. From what Harry could tell, Draco very much admired his the man.

“That sounds like a good idea. Do you know anything about the other professors? All I’ve come up with is information on the Headmaster, dear god the man is mentioned everywhere.” Setting the books aside, Harry turned his full attention towards the blonde in expectation. Information is power after all.

“Well,” the blonde began, “My father says the charms teacher is a half breed not safe to have around children.” He leaned towards Harry conspiratorially. “He’s half goblin apparently.” Harry wanted to ask what was so bad about goblins but decided to hold his tongue until the other boy was done. It wouldn’t do to offend the boy before he had gotten the information he was looking for. Even if the information was biased. “The Transfiguration teacher is extremely fair, even if she does favor her house a bit, head of Gryffindor she is.” Draco paused to look at his the other boy, gauging the Potter heir’s interest. Pleased, if a bit more pleased than he should be, to have the boy’s full attention, he continued. “I already told you about my godfather, Severus Snape. He’s the youngest Potions Master in a century. He’s very strict in his classes but only really has a problem with the Gryffindors, as well as the Hufflepuffs sometimes. And then you have-“ Draco was cut off from finishing by a loud bang. Looking up from their conversation they were met with the sight of a small, dark-skinned girl a lion’s mane of curls.

“Have either of you seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.” Her voice was loud for someone of her size, though her hair matched it in volume. At the blank looks, she stepped further into the compartment. “I’m Hermione Granger. You boys are…?” Draco sent her a withering glare, still ticked off from being interrupted mid-sentence by the nosey girl.

“Granger, not a wizarding name… hmmm, muggleborn then?” The disdain dripping from the blonde’s words either didn’t register with the girl, or she just didn’t care.

“Yes, imagine my surprise at getting my letter. The first witch in the family, my parents were so proud!” Her smile was bright as she spoke, obviously pleased with herself. Though, in the silence following her statement, she finally seemed to notice Draco’s expression.

“Well, seeing as you’re new to this, I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Draco leaned towards the girl in what was obviously mock concern. “Busybody mudbloods like you are not exactly welcome in more, esteemed company.” He let out a very dramatic sigh before leaning back, smirking slightly at the affronted look on the girl’s face. “You’re in the presence of veritable royalty Miss Granger, you should learn to respect your betters and know your place, don’t just barge in somewhere and assume you’re welcome. Now, scram before I catch something muggle .” The poor girl looked near tears as she turned and ran through the door.

“What, pray tell, was that?” Harry looked at Draco, a dangerous gleam in his eye. “You do know that acting like that is the best way to end up out of power, right? Sure, she is below us in social standing, but last time I checked, there are more of the common people than us. If you treat them all like dirt on your boot you’ll only end up having to fight your way through life. Not to say that’s not doable, as it obviously is, but why bother? If you don’t give them any reason to hate you, they’re not going to pay as close attention to you. Lack of scrutiny means you will have a much easier way getting what you want.” Harry was looking at Draco like he had suddenly become one of the brutes the boy had arrived with for all of the brains he was using. It was a very obvious course of action, history showed what happened to those who held themselves so far above the common people they didn’t notice the unrest until they were overrun.

For once in his young life, Draco didn’t know how to respond. Harry had made points that had never occurred to the blonde before. Living as the dirt under someone’s shoe tended to give perspective unavailable to people raised like Draco. Collecting his thoughts Draco turned back to the now slightly miffed wizard sat next to him. “So what you’re saying is I should treat people like her as equals?” He asked Harry incredulously. The raven-haired boy could only laugh, Draco honestly had no idea. Well, if I had been raised with a silver spoon that far up my ass I’d probably be confused as well.

“She’s not your equal Draco, no reason to pretend. I only mean you should be polite. Not friendly or kind, just civil. If you don’t give them a reason to hate you it becomes so much easier in the long run. Imagine trying to get something passed in the Wizingamot, something not terribly popular but you have good reasoning. If people resent you for breathing they won’t even bother listening to what you have to say.” Harry huffed, quite frustrated that he even had to explain this in the first place.

“But I’m a Malfoy, no one would go against what I have to say, my name has power.” As he spoke, Draco became more confident in what he was saying. Malfoys are never wrong after all. Except, apparently, when confronted with a Potter.

“Yes, but do you think Granger and all her Muggleborn friends are going to care? What happens when you piss one of them off at school? Will the teachers, aside from your godfather, take your side on the sole reasoning that you’re a Malfoy and thusly always correct? I really doubt that. If you are nothing but polite to them they can’t pin you when you actually do something. It’s common sense Malfoy.” Harry held eye contact with the other boy until he was convinced that his point was being absorbed. Just as he was about to look away the blonde began to smirk.

“You know Potter, for a Ravenclaw wannabe, you think suspiciously like a Slytherin.” The tension in the room broke with the blonde’s jab at Harry. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.” Still smiling Draco looked out the window only to jump up as he noticed the time of day. “We’d better get out robes on, we should be there soon.”

The rest of the train ride was spent chatting about the rest of the teachers, though after the third time Draco started a sentence with “my father says” he stopped putting much stock in the Malfoy’s opinion on teachers. For some reason Lucius didn’t seem like the type of man Harry wanted to associate with, there was hope yet for his son. Keeping the knowledge that most of Draco’s opinions were just regurgitated from Lucius in mind, he just shrugged when Draco made a comment on the other resident ‘half breed’ at Hogwarts. He would help the boy think for himself by the end of the year if it was the only thing he did. It was honestly a bit sad how few opinions Draco presented without the tag of “my father says” hanging off of it.

+++

The castle was breathtaking. The awe Harry had experienced at Diagon Alley and Kings Cross was nothing on the feeling he got crossing the lake to the school. It was something out of a children’s fantasy book. It hardly seemed real. They were met on the other side of the lake by a stern looking woman that Harry pegged as McGonagall before she even had time to introduce herself.

The ghosts had been a bit of a shock. Reading about something is very different from seeing them in person. Draco didn’t seem fazed at all. Harry mentioned this to Draco and he just shrugged and said: “The Manor has ghosts.” Like that was the most normal thing in the world. Apparently, it wasn’t too strange as the blonde was definitely not the only first-year left unfazed by the ghosts. Waiting for the sorting was probably the most stressful part of the entire evening.

Draco stumbled into Harry as they made their way to wait by the door, having been knocked into from behind. “Oi! Watch where you’re going Malfoy.” The name was said like a curse and Harry could only guess who could have such disdain towards the blonde. The Malfoys had a good number of blood feuds, this boy could belong to a number of families. The question was quickly answered when Draco responded to the tall freckled boy. But not before shooting Harry a significant look. “Ah, a Weasley, what a pleasant surprise. Now I really would hate to cause a scene, so why don’t we end this before it really starts, yes? Good.” The blonde’s tone was scathingly polite, not exactly what Harry had meant, but he was happy enough that the blonde had heeded his words at all. The tactic even worked, much to Harry’s amusement. The redhead’s face was quickly beginning to rival his hair.

“Now listen here you Death Eater spawn I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here but I won’t take it!” The Weasley boy had roughly grabbed Draco’s shoulder, pulling the blonde back facing the now very indignant Weasley. Draco opened his mouth to give, what would most definitely have been a scathing reply, only to be stopped by a significant look from Harry, who was gesturing wildly to the approaching figure of Professor McGonagall. His mouth closed with a click, his retort dying on his tongue. He did manage to pull himself out of the other boys grasp before the imposing woman made her way over to them.

“Now what in Merlin’s name is going on here? The year hasn’t even begun yet and I have students fighting.” The Transfiguration Professor looked down on the boys, her ire apparent on her face. Before she could continue a blonde girl in pigtails approached the fuming teacher.

“I saw the whole thin, ma’am.” The small girl glared daggers at Ron as she spoke. Harry was honestly not believing his luck. If this went as he thought it was about to the blonde boy would have to concede that Harry was right.

McGonagall peered down at the girl with a measuring look before gesturing for the blonde to continue. “It happened like this professor. The Weasley boy tripped on the stairs and ran into Malfoy. Weasley then yelled at Malfoy to watch where he was going to which Malfoy replied that he didn’t want to cause a scene and that Weasley should just drop it before turning back to his friend there.” She gestured to Harry. “I think Weasley was hoping for a fight because he then grabbed Malfoy and, well, you saw the rest.”

McGonagall thanked the girl, whose name turned out to be Hannah Abbott, before turning back to the boys. “Well, firstly, Mr. Malfoy, thank you for attempting to keep the peace. Once you are sorted you’ll find yourself as the first student this year to earn points.” Draco looked to be preening at the thought. “Mr. Weasley also gets to be the first at something this year. It has been nearly two decades since I have had to give out a detention before the feast even begins, you get to be the fifth person in my time as a teacher here, Mr. Weasley, so have this honor. ” The exasperated professor left the redheaded boy spluttering as she turned to lead the students into the Great Hall. “If you are all ready? We will get you sorted now.”

Draco made his way back to Harry’s side as they lined up to go through the heavy stone door in front of them. “You know Potter, I didn’t think that would work…” He gave the raven haired boy a look before sighing audibly. “Alright Potter, now I don’t say this often so listen up. You were right. My way of handling that situation would have ended with joint detention with the Weasel.” The mere thought had the blonde scrunching up his face in disgust. Harry just laughed.

“That would have been unfortunate, yes.” Harry’s laugh soon caught Draco and it was with mirth filled hearts that the two boys entered the Great Hall. With all the gaping he had been doing recently Harry was starting to worry his jaw would fall off. The great hall was alight with hundreds of floating candles. Behind them, the clear night sky stood without obstruction, almost as if there was no roof at all.

“The ceiling is charmed you know,” Harry heard a familiar voice say, “I read about it in Hogwarts a History” Hoping to maybe mend the damage Draco’s words did earlier he maneuvered through the crowd of students until he was stood next to her.

“Have you read the founder’s memoir? They were the ones so place the charm there, it’s magic so powerful it’s still there after over a thousand years.” The girl’s wary glare turned to excitement as she listened to him. Apparently, a common interest was all it took for her to get over his relation to Draco in the girl’s eyes, as she didn’t even blink before responding.

“Where did you even find that? I didn’t see it at Flourish and Blotts, and I spent hours in there.” Draco snorted causing the girl to whip around and glare at him. “Something funny Malfoy?” The previously teary eyed girl was nowhere to be found, instead stood a witch that had a glare so harsh Draco actually took a step back at her inquiry.

“Ummm, not much Mu-Granger, just that you and Potter seem to have a similar disposition towards books.” The look he threw at Harry seemed to scream ‘this civil enough for you?’. Granger just huffed and turned back to Harry before pausing and turning back to Draco.

“What did you just call him?” She gestured to Harry with her hands, for the moment forgetting who she was speaking to and forgoing the glare.

“His name, Granger: Potter. Yes, that Potter. No reason to get all excited, he’s just your average wannabe Ravenclaw like yourself.” The blonde rolled his eyes as the girl ignored him and began to babble to Potter about all the history books he was mentioned in, which of course Harry was aware of already, but he took her excitement in stride.

Their conversation was soon ended by the sorting hat’s loud song. To Harry, it resembled the off key screeches of his aunt in the shower. After the singing, McGonagall started calling up names alphabetically. The blonde girl Hannah Abbott that had defended Draco went to Hufflepuff, followed by a Susan Bones. Harry made a note to get to know her because of their families’ blood alliance. By the time it was Granger’s turn there was one new Ravenclaw and two Slytherins. The hat sat atop the girls bushy head for a good bit longer than any of the others before shouting out “GRYFFINDOR”. Harry heard Draco muttering under his breath at this but didn’t bother trying to understand. The boy who had lost his toad on the train Longbottom, was sorted into Gryffindor and left the stool with the hat still on his head in his excitement. Draco was next, it was absolutely no surprise for anyone when the hat barely grazed the blonde’s head before shouting “SLYTHERIN”. Another boy, Nott, soon joined Draco in slytherin as well as a girl Pansy Parkinson.

As soon as McGonagall called his name the Hall was filled with chatter. He caught broken conversations as he made his way up to that stool.

“Harry Potter?”

“He’s so small”

“I heard he’s been living-”

“ That’s Harry Potter?”

“How come no one saw him on the-”

Harry was relieved when he finally made it to the stool. He knew he would be the center of attention, but this was a bit much. He was a little panicked to have the hat cover his eyes, he disliked being unable to see while everyone was most definitely staring at him.

A voice inside his head cut off his musings.

Harry Potter, I’ve been waiting for you. Now let’s have a look around hmmmmm? Oh, quite impressive Occlumency you have going here, not often you see such a display in one so young. And from what I can tell you have no Idea exactly what you’ve done. Definitely intelligent then.

How are you in my head?

Curious too, with a healthy love of books. Ravenclaw would suit you well- but wait, what do we have here? You may be a little too action oriented for Ravenclaw. You don’t want the information just to have it, you use it to your advantage, you’re very correct in thinking knowledge is power, Mr. Potter. You’d scare those poor bookworms off with the goals you have in mind, that kind of ambition is very “ SLYTHERIN!”

As opposed to every other student before him, no one clapped as he got off the stool. Not at first anyway. As he made his way over to the Slytherin table Draco stood and began to clap, a smile on his face as he looked to Harry’s now green and silver tie.

Chapter Text

The rest of the feast was a complete blur for Harry. He was having trouble coping with having so many sets of eyes on him. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be much more of importance that night. The only two things that stood out to Harry was the vague warnings about the third floor and what felt like an earthquake above his Mind Bunker when he made eye contact with Professor Snape. The man had been glaring at him for… some reason. There were already so many eyes on him, what was two more? Hah! Apparently everything . The man seemed to be digging through his mind, closer and closer to the bunker. It was the realization that, seeing as he was in a magic school, the man could actually be trying to dig his way towards the center of Harry’s mind. That realization forced him into action. He imagined all the dirt covering his bunker turning into bedrock. He almost laughed at the Potion Master’s expression, shock and disbelief were definitely part of it, but Harry almost dared to say the man looked slightly impressed. He vowed to either check his books or ask Draco for information on mind reading when they got to their dorms.

The Slytherin dorms, it turned out, were in the Dungeons. Apparently, the Hufflepuff dorms were around here somewhere too, as the crowd of yellow and black-robed students had walked with them down the stairs before turning down a different corridor, away from the young snakes. Hogwarts was quite the maze. Harry was unsure if he’d actually be able to find his way back to the Great Hall in the morning. Apparently, figuring out the school wasn’t entirely impossible, however, as the Prefects that were leading them seemed to have a good idea as to where they were going.

At the end of a long stretch of corridor, there was what looked to be a dead end. That is until one of the Prefects, Gemma Farley, pointed out the ornate snake carvings on the wall. Upon giving the password “Unity” the snakes began to move in a way not unlike the bricks leading to Diagon Alley, creating a doorway into the Slytherin common room.

Harry hadn’t really known what he had expected the Slytherin rooms to look like, but in hindsight, he should have expected a house built on wealth and power to decorate so lavishly. There were beautiful green upholstered chairs and couches clustered around the many fireplaces in the room. To the center of the room, there were large mahogany tables placed strategically for studying in groups.

Edmund Spiers, the other fifth-year Prefect, brought the new gaggle of Slytherins to sit at the tables before joining the other three Prefects to stand in front of them. The female sixth-year Prefect, Harry thought he remembered her to be named Cyril Meakin, stepped forward and began to speak.

“Welcome to Slytherin. My Name is Cyril Meakin, I am one of the sixth year Prefects alongside Alex Sykes. The two of us, alongside our fifth-year Prefects Edmund Spiers and Gemma Farley will be your go-to in Slytherin when you have questions. If none of us can help you we will direct you to our head of house, Professor Snape, who will be joining us in a moment. Before he gives his speech I will be giving you a word of advice. Look around you at the other first years. This is your new family. Like a family, you will squabble and fight, but in the end, you must be a united front. Out there-” she gestured to the now closed entrance to the common room, “-you will have two, if not three-fourths of the school against you. We are disliked and distrusted. United we stand and united we fall, but never, and I mean never, will you abandon one of our own outside these walls. If you have a problem deal with it here. We cannot afford to show weakness. Remember this and you will thrive here.” With that, she stepped back in line with the other Prefects, making way for the dark figure of Professor Snape who just swept into the room.

“Thank you, Miss Meakin.” The man’s voice was deep and his tone low, but in the silence of the common room, it carried. “As your head of house, I am not here to withhold you from your potential, whatever that may be.” His dark gaze swept the crowd of first years, eyes assessing each one as he passed. He seemed to linger on Harry once more, before continuing. “On top of the rules just set for you by Miss Meakin, you will also follow two of mine. One, do not slack off on your studies. You are the best the school has to offer, do not squander your education here. Two, do not let me catch you doing anything against school rules. You are Slytherins, I expect you to actually use your brains.” Harry didn’t think he was the only one that took note of the fact that their Head of House hadn’t made a rule not to break school policy, only not to be caught doing so. How terribly Slytherin. Harry couldn’t help but think, slightly amusement. “That will be all for tonight, I will leave you in the capable hands of the Prefects to get you to your dorms. Oh, and before I forget, my door is always open to my snakes. Please refrain from coming to me with something the Prefects could solve, but otherwise, you may come at any time, within reason.” He added the last bit with another scowl directed to Harry as if he expected the boy to be especially bothersome. Curious, Draco mentioned that he usually favored his house. Perhaps the man has something against The-Boy-Who-Lived? Or Heir Potter? A dislike for one of my titles and not me? I can’t imagine what else it could be.

Questions were still swirling around in Harry’s mind as they were brought down another flight of stairs to the boy’s dorms. It was then that Harry realized just how far underground they were, as the large window on the back wall didn’t show the school grounds, but rather into the lake. It was too dark to see into the murky waters now, but Harry imagined it would be very pretty in the morning light. The room was a long rectangle cut from dark stone. There were six beds in the room, three against each of the long walls. Harry was quick to claim the one closest to the door, easier to escape if necessary his brain supplied helpfully. Draco took the bed next to him as the rest of the boys claimed their beds as well. Theodore Nott took the bed closest to the window next to Draco, Blaise Zabini took the bed across from him, next to Zabini were Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, who Harry recognized as Draco’s cronies from the train.

As the boys dressed down for bed Harry couldn’t help but rejoice at the fact that he had the hindsight to purchase a new wardrobe, as he would have looked horribly outclassed by the well-dressed boys around him in his cousin’s oversized pajamas. With muttered goodnights, the six exhausted boys laid down for bed. Harry closed his bed curtains and began the familiar action of relaxing into his mind bunker before sleep. He surveyed the damage done by his professor, happy when it turned out not to be much. He disliked the naked feeling he had when observing the surface of his mind, the dark presence in his forest felt all the more real when not separated by miles of dirt, well, bedrock now. Unsure how common it was to have people poking around in your mind, Harry mentally created muggle bear traps scattering around in the forest of his mind, unsure if it would actually do any damage, but without any other ideas. He recalled the hat mentioning Occlumency… that was something to look into. Adding the question to his ‘Office’, Harry laid down in his ‘Bedroom’ before finally succumbing to sleep.

+++

Harry was the first one awake in his dorm, having not yet broken the habit of waking at dawn to start breakfast for his family. Having done so since he was five made it a hard habit to break. And so Harry sat reading in his bed, using only the soft green light from the window to illuminate the pages as he waited for a more reasonable hour to be up and about. Eventually, he checked the time again and found it to be 6:30, a whole hour since Harry had first woken up. Deciding that, since breakfast opened at 7:30, now would be an alright time to go shower.

The bathrooms had been pointed out to the boys on their way to the dorms the night before. There were two bathrooms per year group: one for the girls and the other for the boys. Harry made his way to the designated washroom, toiletries in hand, not at all surprised to see boys from the upper years trudging their way to their own showers. He was not the only early riser in Slytherin.

The washroom was elegant if a little small to be shared between six boys. There were three shower stalls, two toilets with corresponding sinks, as well as a large floor to ceiling mirror that took up a good half of one of the walls. He hurried over to one of the stalls, wanting to finish his shower before the other boys woke up and came in. He undressed quickly before stepping into the shower. The warm water was heavenly. He had never been allowed one before his stay in Knockturn and it was soon becoming one of his favorite things. He revealed in the feeling of his soap lathered hair, loving how clean it made him feel. He had always hated how constantly dirty he felt at the Dursleys, both emotionally and physically. His first shower in Knockturn had felt almost ritualistically symbolic as he washed away the evidence of his past.

Stepping out of the shower with his towel around his waist he scowled at suddenly being met with his reflection. Despite probably looking the best he had in his life, he still looked like crap. Yellowing bruises lingered along his ribs and arms. His chest was puckered with scars of every shape and size. One large patch of skin on his shoulder stood out against his alabaster skin. He remembered getting that one clearly; Burns were always the worst, they took forever to heal. He had been no older than six, cooking at a stovetop that was too high up for someone his size to be using, when his cousin had startled him and he toppled the pan. The sizzling grease within it fell down over Harry. In retrospect he had been terribly lucky only his shoulder had been hit, he could have very well been blinded. The rest of the marks told similar stories. The most common marks across his skin being lashes from his uncle’s belt, the large man’s favorite tool. They were scattered in worrying frequency across his chest and from the backs of his shoulders to his thighs. Harry was sure there were more little marks, each with a story of its own, but he couldn’t be bothered to continue the useless train of memories and count them all.

Harry was happy to see all the evidence of his past hidden beneath his uniform, well most of it at least. He would only glare at the thin line running across the left side of his jaw and behind his ear, wishing strongly for it to disappear. After a good minute of nothing happening, he huffed and finished tying his tie before marching out of the bathroom and back to his dorm.

Draco’s reaction to waking up to see a showered and fully dressed Harry was terribly amusing to the smallest Slytherin boy. He had first stumbled out of bed half-awake, looking for the first time that Harry had known him, not like the fully pulled together Malfoy heir. Blonde hair was sticking up in eighteen different directions, and his pajamas were wrinkled with sleep as he rubbed at bleary eyes and meandered towards his trunk, throwing a groggy “Mornin’” at Harry before freezing, looking suddenly very awake and asking in a slightly panicked voice, “What time is it?! Why did you let me oversleep? A Malfoy can never be late Harry James Potter! And I cannot show up on the first day of classes looking like this!” The boy’s panic was soon ended when Blaise threw a pillow, hitting Draco in the face to get his attention.

“Calm down you great pillock, we’re not required in the Great Hall for our schedules until eight, you have an hour to primp and preen to your heart’s delight. Now stop shouting and let those of us that don’t need an hour to get ready for the day get some more shut-eye!” With a grumble, the dark-skinned boy pulled his duvet back over his head and presumably went back to sleep. Or tried to at least. He may have managed if Harry hadn’t broken into peals of laughter at the morning’s development. “Potter please don’t make me throw my other pillow.” The dark comment was only met with more laughter, which was soon cut off by soft ‘oof’ as Blaise's projectile hit its mark. “Fine, I guess I’m getting up then.” The boy ground out as he stomped out of the room, still grumbling under his breath.  

Draco, who had been glowering at Harry since he had started laughing at him, soon found himself turning the tables. The look on Harry’s face when Blaise had hit him soon had Draco chuckling. “I’m going to go get ready for the day. Thanks for scaring the shit of me Potter, a great way to start the day, really.” Despite the sarcastic drawl, the blonde was sporting a small smile, revealing his true opinion on the situation.

By the time they were all leaving for breakfast, Draco was once more the picture of pureblood supremacy. Slicked back hair and finely pressed robes supported by his general air of superiority came together and became Heir Malfoy.

The walk to the Great Hall was uneventful until they came upon the group of first-year Gryffindors, who were similarly being lead to breakfast by their own Prefects. Harry looked on resigned as he took note of the fiery red hair headed towards them from the gaggle of Gryffindors, none of the idiots made a move to stop the youngest Weasley boy. As the boy approached he opened his mouth too, Harry assumed, start spewing more filth about Draco, but was swiftly cut off by the blonde’s signature drawl.

“Good morning, Weasley, Ronald was it? What has you in such a rush this morning?” Ron wasn’t the only one in the crowd to look startled at the Malfoy’s civil greeting to the Gryffindor boy. Nearly everyone in earshot turned their head to stare incredulously at the now smirking first year. Everyone but Harry, he just watched on with a pleased and vaguely proud look in his bright eyes.

Ron’s cheeks made a similar transition to the night before, soon glowing a violent pink. “I don’t know what you’re on Malfoy but we’re not friends, stop being so nice.” Harry couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at the boy’s words. He thinks this is Draco being friendly? His amusement soon dissipated when the boy’s angry eyes turned to him. “And you, Potter,“ Once again spitting out a name like something vile. “I never would have expected you to go dark. Why’d you aligned yourself with Dark wizards like this? You were supposed to go in Gryffindor! Like your parents. Or perhaps you don’t care about them, huh? You are hanging around the children of their killer’s followers after all.” The boy was nearly spitting by the end of his little rant. Harry looked on, seemingly bored, even if he was struggling to bury the unadulterated fury that boiled up in him at the boy’s casual mention of his parent’s murder. The now angry Slytherin Prefects moved to step in to defend their newest snakes, only to stop as Harry raised a hand in their direction. If the boy wanted to handle it himself, it was his right to.

Harry moved from his position slightly behind Draco to stand in front of the Weasley boy. Before bowing in greeting. He had finally read up on proper bows during his stay in knockturn and revealed in both the boy’s confused glance and the light chuckled from the Slytherins behind him as they noted that his bow placed the boy as little more than a bug beneath his boot in his eyes. Something he was pleased to see Ronald didn’t catch. “Good morning to you Heir Potter… is what I think you meant, yes?  Your disrespect is grounds enough for me to cut ties between the Weasley and Potter households, Blood Alliance or no. You may want to rethink how you address me in the future lest I do something about this slight? Good day to you, Mr. Weasley.” Harry kept the pleasant facade on his features and in his voice as he addressed the dim Gryffindor in front of him. Throwing a rather sharp smile at the boy before continuing on his way to breakfast. Internally he was screaming bloody murder at the nerve of that boy. He sat stiffly down at the Slytherin table, piling his plate high before attacking his breakfast with a vigor that betrayed his true feelings.  

Gemma Farley, one of the Prefects that had been walking the first years to breakfast beelined for the head table once they had arrived. The events of the altercation in the hallway would most definitely be of interest to their head of house. She arrived in front of the brooding Professor, nodding to the Deputy Headmistress seated next to him, before speaking. Seeing as it did concern McGonagall’s house as well she did not object when the Gryffindor matriarch cut into the conversation with questions of her own. Apparently, this wasn’t the first altercation like this, despite it being the first day of school.

Shaking her head, the stern professor stood up from where she was seated and made a sharp sound with her wand to get the attention of the students. “Good morning everyone. I apologize for interrupting your breakfast but I have just been reminded of some promises I made to some first years last night before the sorting, as well as being informed of a similar development to the one dealt with last night. I would like to first like to award the first points of the year to the recently sorted Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House, for keeping a cool head in an unpleasant situation. Twenty points to Slytherin” There was quite a bit of grumbling coming from the Gryffindor house as they realized it was a snake that had managed to impress their professor. The Slytherin table was just as talkative, but they were much more pleased with the situation. Some of the upper years nodded in commendation to the young blonde, who was once again preening under all the attention. The school’s focus was brought back to the head table as McGonagall began to speak once more. “Just two more things, I promise you’ll be back to your breakfast in a moment. Ronald Weasley, for the impressive feat of receiving a detention faster than I have seen in nearly twenty years,” Snape choked on his food at this, “as well as for blatant disrespect for your peers, thirty points from Gryffindor.” Curious as to what that would do to the already empty points glass on the side of the room, many students turned and gaped at the black gems now littered across the bottom of the Gryffindor glass. “And finally,” most of the hall turned back to the Professor, though some kept staring at the Gryffindor hourglass. “To Harry Potter, for an impressive display of restraint in the face of a situation most people years your senior would have thrown hexes for, another twenty points to Slytherin. Thank you, that is all.” As she sat back down with a sigh, most of the Gryffindor table turned to glower at Ron, while back at Slytherin the two first years were being looked upon with awe. Getting points so early in the year was difficult, for a Slytherin it was unheard of. To do both, and get them from McGonagall of all people was most likely a sign of the apocalypse.

The previously dour potions professor found himself in a much better mood. Even if it was partially due to Potter that the points had been awarded, the situation was too rare to squander being upset at the details. “Minerva, my feet are feeling rather cold, do you think Hell has frozen over?” His jab was met with a mild glare, which only served to better his mood further.

Harry only wished he was in such a mood. While he was fairly pleased by the turn of events, he was finding it hard to shake the dark mood the confrontation had left him in. Of course, I care about my parents! Just because I’m not a carbon copy of them doesn’t mean I don’t care! And just because some of my housemates' parents were on the dark side of the war doesn’t automatically slot them together with that maniac. Even if it did, some of his reasons for fighting are valid, it’s his execution that leaves something to be desired. Harry huffed into his eggs, ignoring the bright chattering of the rest of his year mates surrounding him. He eventually did look up, if only to receive his class schedule. Taking note of his first class his mood only soured further. Oh joy, Potions with both the teacher that hates him for no reason and the house that hated him on principle. This will definitely go well.

+++

As they left the hall to retrieve their books Harry had a revelation. Staying as angry as he was at the idiot Gryffindor’s taunts was only giving him power over him. Dearest Ronald can say whatever he likes. He is of no importance to me so his opinions should be of no importance to me. He took a deep breath to center himself and allowed the anger he had been letting fester dissipate. Finding himself feeling ten pounds lighter, he nearly skipped up to where Draco was conversing with Theo a few feet in front of him. “Sorry for brooding. You guys ready for potions?” The bright voice coming from the small Slytherin seemed to startle the two boys, as they had just seen Harry grumbling into his toast not five minutes ago. The mood change was so sudden Draco almost thought it could be another mask, akin to the one he had worn when addressing Weasley before breakfast. Deciding to leave it for now, and address it in more private company later, Draco just nodded at the green-eyed wizard.

“Like I told you on the train, this class is going to be the best. Not that you could expect anything less from my godfather after all.” Harry smiled at the blonde’s transparency. If he was trying to be subtle about how close he was to their Professor, he was failing terribly. He sounded surer of himself when talking about the Potions Master than he did when quoting his father, and that was saying something.

“Not sure why I even asked,” Harry commented to Theo, who chuckled at the quip. Draco just jutted out his chin, glaring down his nose at his friend’s teasing.

Chapter Text

The Slytherins were the first to the Potions classroom, having the advantage of dorms in the dungeons. When the Gryffindor’s eventually joined them the two groups stood stiffly apart. By the time the Professor swept towards them and opened the classroom door, you could have cut the tension between them with a knife. Much like in the hallway, the two groups sat as far away from each other as possible within the confines of the classroom. Harry found himself sharing a table with Theo, as Pansy had somehow maneuvered Draco so that he was sat next to her, much to her delight and Draco’s chagrin.

Professor Snape quickly made his way through the roll, though, not without stopping to comment on Harry. “Ah, yes. Harry Potter, our new- Celebrity” Harry just sighed internally at that. At least I know why he resents me now. He thinks I’ll expect special treatment or something. Refusing to return to his previous mood, Harry looked on attentively at the Professor’s introductory speech. Taking notes as he did.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word— Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnare the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." It seemed that no one in the room dared breath, the only sound being the soft scratching of Harry’s quill on parchment as he copied down the Professor’s words. “Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel comfortable enough to not pay attention… Mr. Potter!” Harry’s head shot up at the sharp call of his name. “If you are sure enough in your skills to be doodling in my class perhaps you could answer some questions for me?” Harry looked at the teacher, affronted, he had been taking notes not doodling. Before he could defend himself, however, the imposing man was standing over him, his voice low in what sounded to be anger. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Harry wracked his brain for any scrap of information he might know on this, coming up with nothing he slowly met the man’s pitch colored eyes before answering.

“I don’t know, Professor.” Snape seemed almost gleeful at the admission.

“Tut tut Mr. Potter, clearly fame isn’t everything. Let’s try again, shall we? Where would I find a bezoar?” The Professor was reveling in the boy’s discomfort. Harry had the ridiculously unhelpful thought of well this isn’t very professional before shaking himself out of it and realizing he actually knew the answer to this one, however, the realization came along with the information that the man wasn’t quizzing him out of the first yearbook. The only reason he knew was due to a separate book he had bought on the properties of different potions ingredients. Now a bit miffed at his Professor, he caught the man’s eye and responded, pleased with the reaction the correct answer spurned.

“In the stomach of a goat, sir. It is a cure for most poisons.” Harry regretted adding that bit as it only served to further annoy his professor.

“Correct, but watch your cheek Potter. Even imbeciles are correct some percentage of the time. So one more question, to see if the last answer was a fluke, yes? See if you can tell me the difference between monkshood and Wolfsbane?” Harry’s nostrils flared, so much for Snape showing preference to his house, this was becoming ridiculous. Closing his eyes and quickly escaping into his ‘library’ he sifted through his information on potions ingredients when he came across a plant called aconite, which also went by the names Wolfsbane and Monkshood. In his haste to answer the question, he missed the look of surprise and recognition that flickered across the professor’s face at his subtle display of mental magic.

“That’s a trick question, Professor.” Harry ground out. “They are the same plant, which, might I add, also goes by the name aconite.” He couldn’t help triumphant look that crept onto his face at once more answering a question meant for a student many years his senior.

“Well!” The professor finally said, in a much louder voice, “Why is no one writing this down?” Harry slumped in his seat once finally out from under the man’s scrutiny. The rest of the class scrambled to start writing down the answers Harry gave.

The rest of the class was similarly distasteful, the only upside being when the Longbottom boy melted his cauldron and both he and Ron ended up with nasty looking boils all over them. While he felt a little bad for the quiet Longbottom boy, he was nothing but gleeful at the uncomfortable looking boils covering the redheaded boy. By the time class was dismissed all Harry wanted to do was go back to the dorm and crawl up in bed. Today had been exhausting and it wasn't even time for lunch yet. Sadly, they had Charms instead. At least it wasn’t a mixed class. Flitwick was a decent teacher, half the class had managed to correctly do the levitation charm by the end of the period. Draco could say what he wanted, but the man being half goblin did nothing to err his disposition. The charms professor was probably one of the most friendly adults Harry had ever met.

Lunch was a welcome reprieve for Harry, who felt as if his brain was slowly melting as the day went on. While he was no longer brooding, Harry found himself once more sitting silently through the meal, listening to the conversations around him with half an ear. Most of his attention was instead diverted to his swirling thoughts. There was so much new information swirling around in his head it was hard to process. On top of all the new scholastic information, he had a hundred new questions about Snape as well as a few ideas on how to convince Draco that Flitwick wasn’t below him based on his genetics. As a student, they should respect their teachers, regardless of their stature outside the classroom. Basically, his thoughts were running in every direction without rhyme or reason and he was starting to develop a headache. Hogwarts was sensory overload to the extreme for someone who grew up as isolated as Harry had.  

The rest of the classes went off without any problems, although, the DADA professor made Harry uneasy for reasons unknown. Something else to add to his seemingly endless barrage of questions. Transfiguration was difficult, though McGonagall seemed to like him so there was that at least. Herbology reminded Harry of hours spent in the Dursley garden a bit more than was comfortable, but at least he knew what he was doing, and the Ravenclaws they shared the class with were non-confrontational, which was a bonus in of itself. At the end of the day they had two hours until dinner, which Harry wanted to spend laying in bed sorting out his thoughts, unfortunately for him, Draco had other plans.

“Come on Harry, you agreed on the train that we would ask him!” Draco sounded downright petulant to Harry, a fact he knew the blond would deny vehemently, even if it was true. “I have no clue why he seems to dislike you, but he’ll only continue to dislike you if you never give him a reason not to. Trust me, showing interest in his work is only going to put you in his good books.” Resigned to the fact that the blonde wasn’t going to let this go, Harry agreed on the condition that he could have thirty minutes to ‘nap’ before they went. If he had to confront the professor again so soon, he was doing it with a clear mind.

+++

Thirty minutes later Harry was feeling much less muddled. His efforts on the chaos that had been his mind had reaped quite a few interesting tidbits of information. The biggest one being that the uncomfortable feeling he got from Professor Quirrell was the same feeling he got from the thing in his forest. Not sure what to do with the new revelation, he tucked it away in his office for further reference. Some smaller, less distressing ones were that he could use herbology to supplement his potions class and that he had made a friend. The last one was based on his interactions with Draco so far. He was fairly certain that their relationship could be read as friendship, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

“You ready to head out Potter?” Draco came back into the dorm exactly thirty minutes from when Harry had laid down.

“Harry” Draco looked a little confused at that.

“What are you on about now?” he drawled

“Call me Harry, no reason to stick to formalities between friends, right?” Harry hoped beyond hope that he had been reading the situation correctly because he really didn’t want to drive the other boy away. The broad grin that appeared on the blonde’s face was enough to shatter any doubts he had previously held.

“You are entirely correct, Harry. I would like you to refer to me in kind, yeah?” Harry really liked how his name sounded on the other boy’s tongue. It was something he could definitely get used to.

Smiling right back he returned, “Sure thing Draco.” Smiles still in place, the two headed out of the dorms towards the Slytherin Head’s office. It wasn’t until the door was in their sight that Harry’s face fell. “If he kills me, I am coming back as a ghost for the sole purpose of making your life a living hell.” Draco snorted at Harry’s dramatics before walking up to the heavy oak door and rapping sharply on it. Harry instinctively took a step back as the door swung open, which he was immediately glad for, as it meant that Snape noticed Draco before laying eyes on probably the last person he wanted to see.

“Good afternoon boys. Draco, good to see you as always. Potter, a pleasure I’m sure. Do come in, though I can’t imagine what you two could need of me already, especially seeing as the disagreement with Mr. Weasley has been dealt with already.” Harry fought the instinct to cringe away from the scowling man, the expression closely mirroring that of his uncle. Snape was a teacher, teachers cannot lay a hand on a student. Or at least, they can’t in the muggle world. Here he wasn’t so sure, especially if Flitch's rambling was anything to go by. Suddenly much warier, he stepped into the office behind Draco, staying as close to his friend as he thought acceptable. Even if the Professor was allowed to punish him as he pleased, he liked Draco, and Draco liked Harry, so hopefully, he would be safe as long as he stayed close to the blonde.

“We’re not here about any problem with the school Sev. It’s a scholastic inquiry we’re here for.” Draco looked over at Harry, expecting the other boy to explain further. Harry, on the other hand, was caught up on the boy’s casual use of ‘Sev’ and the fact that the older man hadn’t even blinked. Apparently noticing the Harry’s less than focused state he began to explain how they came to this discussion in the first place. After explaining Harry’s academic exploits that Draco had interrupted on the train, Draco once more motioned for Harry to continue the conversation, as he was the one who had done the research on the subject. This time, Harry was ready.

“It’s really not as impressive as Draco makes it sound sir, I was just comparing a few books on magical creatures when I came across some contradictory information about the wolfsbane potion. Draco mentioned that, since you created it, you might know the answer?” Harry paused, waiting for any sign or protest from his Professor, seeing none, he quickly continued. “Well it’s like this professor, the Ministry makes it impossible for Werewolves to have any kind of livelihood, be that a job, marriage or children, with the explanation that it’s safer for all involved if they don’t. Which is rather stupid if I might add, as from what I’ve read they’re only dangerous one night a month... but that’s off topic, sorry. Anyway, they make it impossible for them to live because they’re dangerous, but your potion removes that danger! What is the ministries reasoning behind regulating the distribution of the potion so heavily? Sure, people could make it themselves, but from what I’ve seen it’s not at all easy to make, so most people have to buy it, but the ministry regulates the amount that can be sold per shop, which means the shop owners need to hike up the price to make a profit. All I can’t grasp is why they’re regulating it.”

Snape leveled a calculating gaze at the boy in front of him, not wanting to admit that the passion behind his bright green eyes reminded him strongly of his best friend, and not at all of his childhood tormentor. Instead of thinking on that at all, he considered the question presented to him. “It is rather simple, Mr. Potter. They don’t want to admit they were wrong. As you began to say before cutting yourself off, they are only dangerous for one night a month, they could very well hold jobs and social lives even without the potion on every day but that of the full moon. By conceding that fixing the once a month problem that they claim is the only reason for sectioning them off from society is fixable with a potion, they would have to admit that it is only a once a month problem. The issue here is the prejudice against werewolves that claims they are savage and dangerous people all the time. By regulating the potion, enough of the werewolves are still dangerous that one night a month, that they don’t have to retract the current laws in place or admit that they have wronged an entire subgroup of our society.” The professor in front of Harry now was not one he had encountered before. He was still teaching, so definitely still his Professor, but the man was so passionate about the subject without any of the disdain he had held in their class that morning. If this was more what Draco’s ‘Sev’ was like, he could start to understand the admiration the blond held for the man.

“So what you’re saying, Sev, is that the ministry systematically oppressed the werewolf population because they don’t want to admit they were wrong?” Draco’s disbelieving voice was void of its usual calm drawl, instead, it was pinched with incredulity. Snape leaned back in his chair, looking at his godson with consideration.

“It’s really not as uncommon an occurrence as you might think Draco. The ministry sweeps things under the rug all the time in order to save face. A little money will go a long way within the ministry walls these days.” Harry observed the slight widening of Draco’s eyes at the last comment with interest. Apparently, that had some kind of double meaning to the blonde. “Now, if I’ve answered all your questions for today, I have work to do.”

Draco nodded to his godfather before getting up to leave, Harry close on his heels. Just as the door was about to close Harry called back to his teacher, “Thank you sir!” before the door closed behind the two boys. The potions professor was left wondering if he had entered the twilight zone. A Potter posing well thought out, well-researched questions. What was the world coming to?

Chapter Text

Harry was once again up with the sun, though today Draco did not freak out upon seeing his friend already up, showered, and dressed before he had even awoken. The group of first years were once again lead to breakfast by a Prefect, though today there were no altercations on the way. The two friends found seats at one end of the table and were soon joined by the rest of their year mates. Draco and Harry were in the midst of discussing the information given to them by their head of house the night before when the post came in. Not expecting anything, Harry had nearly spilled his pumpkin juice in his surprise at having Hedwig land in front of him on the table.

“That your owl, Harry? She’s a really pretty bird.” The snowy owl preened at the blonde’s complement, before hooting at her master and sticking out her leg, which had a small note tied to it. Untying it from his familiar’s leg, Harry carefully unrolled the parchment and began to read the loopy script the note was written in.

Mr. Potter,

I would like you to meet me in my office today after breakfast, it is a matter of importance. Don’t mind your first class, I will tell Professor Flitwick why you will be late. Have one of the Prefects show you to my office.

The Password is Sugarquills,

Headmaster Dumbledore

“What do you think he wants?” asked Draco, who had read the note over his friend’s shoulder. “You think it’s about yesterday?” Harry’s face darkened for a moment at the mention of the trouble the previous morning before once more becoming the blank mask most of his house had perfected.

“I cannot be sure until I arrive. I’ll be sure to tell you all about it when I return. I think I’ll ask Professor Snape to show me to the Headmaster’s office as he should be going there anyway. As my Head of House, he acts in loco parentis , right?” Harry looked up to the head table, slightly dreading having to approach the dour Professor. Despite his temperament the night before, he doubted the man’s ire for him had diminished significantly, if at all.

“Yes, he should be. Good of you not to bother a Prefect, they have to get to their own classes after breakfast.” Harry only hummed in response before once more diving into his eggs, absentmindedly petting his owl. Said owl took a piece of bacon off of Harry’s plate before once more taking off. The rest of breakfast was spent discussing the first day’s lessons and bemoaning the homework some teachers had already assigned. Harry soon found himself making his way up to the head table while his classmates filed out of the hall for their first class.

“Mr. Potter, there better be a reason you’re dallying in the Great Hall without your friends. It would not do for you to be late for class.” The man’s dark eyes looked down on Harry with the same contempt as they had in class the day before, Harry could only sigh, resigned. He was curious as to why his Head of House had not been notified of the meeting with the Headmaster. At the thought, he shot a look towards the elderly wizard sat at the head of the table, shivering at the disapproving look the man was directing his way. The look was fairly reminiscent of the one Petunia would give him when he did something she didn’t approve of. Which, in all honesty, was a very long list, but nonetheless. Eyes flickering back to his Head of House he decided to just tell the man. The fact that the Headmaster had tried to circumvent the rules by calling Harry up to him without his Head of House present did not sit well with the boy. Had he not been doing all he could to be knowledgeable about the goings-on around him, he would not have thought to question being brought up to see the Headmaster alone.

“It would appear, Professor, that the Headmaster forgot to inform you of the ‘meeting of great importance’ he has called me up to his office for this morning. I am glad I came to you to ask where his office is, as I had assumed that in your role of loco parentis , you would be accompanying me.” The potion master’s expression had darkened further, if possible, at the phrase “great importance” and kept its shadowy disposition throughout his explanation.

“You would get special treatment from the Headmaster, Potter, just like your father in that.” The way the man spoke of his father, Harry did not take the comment to be at all flattering. “You are correct, however, in noting that the Headmaster forgot to mention this meeting. I will accompany you up to the old fool’s office once I have finished my tea. Now go be seated as you wait for me.” The man punctuated his dismissal with a wave of his hand. Harry complied, storing the interesting comment on his father for further reference while he waited. Perhaps the man’s distaste for him was more personal than he had originally thought.

At some point during his conversation with his Professor, Dumbledore had disappeared from the Great Hall. It was another five minutes before Snape made his way down from the head table and swept from the room, Harry trailing quickly behind him. The Headmaster’s office was not terribly far from the Great Hall, and they were soon stood before the gargoyle that guarded the office’s entrance.

“Sugarquills” Snape growled, causing the recently inanimate statue to leap aside. His robes billowed out behind him as he climbed the stairs, a silent Harry trailing much more demurely behind. The Headmaster looked curiously to his potions teacher, before smiling at Harry, eyes twinkling wildly.

“Thank you for showing him the way to my office Severus, you may leave now.” The kind smile did nothing for Harry, who was already wary of adults, especially the ones who were needlessly friendly, whom he found to often be hiding a much more sinister core. That was one thing Harry could appreciate about Snape, he didn’t bother hiding his disdain. He was honest in his hatred, even if it was as baseless as Harry thought it to be.

Snape looked towards the Headmaster in confusion. He had thought the old man had just forgotten to tell him about the meeting with the Potter brat. Instead, it was looking like the Headmaster had purposefully left him in the dark. “Headmaster, you know that I am required to be here as his Head of House.” Severus Snape was many things, but bad at his job was not one of them. He looked after his snakes a bit more closely than other house heads, knowing that he would be one of few to people to do so. Despite his feelings on Potter’s spawn, he was still his responsibility as a member of his house. “Whatever you’ve called the brat up here for you’ll just have to say in front of me. Trying to hide your favoritism were we? I assure you it’s nothing I haven’t seen before with his father.” Snape sneered once more at the mention of Potter Sr. Harry was beginning to better understand that the man’s ire may not be entirely baseless after all.

“Now Severus, this is nothing like that. I assure you I only meant to keep from disturbing your lessons so early in the year by not telling you, nothing sinister in that.” The benevolent gaze of the headmaster seemed to irk the potions professor in a similar fashion that it had Harry, much to said boy’s amusement. “Since you are here anyway I suppose you can stay.” The headmaster looked vaguely upset with this idea, though only for a moment, before he was once more his twinkling self. Having settled the discrepancy, Harry moved to sit in the chair across from the Headmaster’s desk. Snape stayed standing, though took a step to position himself slightly behind his charge.

While the Headmaster seemed content to study Harry for a good while before speaking, Snape was a little less patient. “If we could get on with it, Headmaster, both Mr. Potter and myself have places to be.” If the dark scowl upon the man’s face had any effect on the old man, it did not show.

“But of course, Severus, my apologies. Firstly, would either of you care for a lemon drop?” As the proffered candy was pushed to the edge of the desk, Harry had a rather absurd flashback to the seminars in muggle school about not taking unwrapped candies, or candy at all really, from a stranger.

Despite the headmaster not being a creepy guy with a white van, Harry decided to heed his gut feeling and refuse the candy. His actions were soon mirrored by the potion master, if with a bit more venom in the refusal. If the headmaster was put off by their not taking the sweet, Harry couldn’t tell. Instead, the wizened old wizard sat with a carefree smile and constantly twinkling eyes. Honestly, thought Harry, does he charm them to do that? That can’t be natural. The thought of the man waking up every morning and starting the day by charming his eyes to glitter was a silly enough image that Harry actually had to fight off a laugh. It ended up as some kind of aborted cough.

“Now, Harry, I’m sure you’re very curious as to why you’re here. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble with the school.” Severus muttered something under his breath at this which to Harry sounded almost like, not yet. Ignoring the biased potion master, he focused wholly on the man in front of him. “You see, Harry, I would like to ask you some questions about your home.”

Harry froze. No, no, no! I can’t let them know I ran away, they’ll try to send me back for sure. Just like when I told Mr. Jennings back in primary school, they’ll be concerned until they talk with the Dursleys. Then they’ll do what every adult does and take their word over mine, and I’ll have another school full of teachers who think I’m some deviant trouble child vying for attention. For god’s sake, Snape already thinks that and he’s only known me a day! Shoulders set, determined to lie his way out of this, Harry tuned back into what the Headmaster was saying.

“You live with your mother’s sister, Petunia, yes? I met her as a girl once, she was very disappointed when I told her she wouldn’t be joining Lilly here at Hogwarts.” Harry blanched, Petunia Dursley, a woman whose hate for magic drove her to abuse her own kin, had wanted to go to Hogwarts?  “Lovely girl, however.” That garnered a reaction, not only from Harry, but surprisingly enough, from Snape as well. Harry almost thought he imagined it, but no, Snape had scoffed at the proclamation as well. How does Snape know my Aunt? Harry couldn’t imagine a situation where the two would meet. Shoving it in his Office for further exploration, he answered the Headmaster.

“Yes sir, I am living with my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, and I have a cousin my age, Dudley.” He was careful to give the information without any negative or sarcastic inflections as he would have if speaking openly on the subject. “What about them, Sir?” He tilted his head a bit at the question, wide green eyes meeting sparkling blue.

“Well, there were some wards surrounding the house, tied to your blood relations to your aunt. They are strengthened by the familial bond between you and your family. So you can imagine my surprise when they fell. Was there an attack on your home Mr. Potter, or maybe you can think of another reason they might have fallen?” The Headmaster’s concerned tone did nothing to mask the slight accusatory note on the last sentence.

Harry actually had a very good idea why the wards may have fallen, considering they were reliant on his ‘familial bond’ with the Dursleys, it made sense that they had fallen when he had left for, what he had decided would be, the last time. He could not, however, tell the Headmaster this, lest he be forced back in the hovel he once called a home. Well, I’ve lied my way out of situations like this before. “I’m sorry Headmaster, but I cannot recall there being any sort of attack, I think I’d remember that.” He gave a good-natured chuckle at that, hoping to lighten the serious mood before he told the first bald-faced lie. “I can’t think of any other reason they’d fall, Sir. The familial bond with my family should be pretty strong! I used to play with my cousin and his friends all the time. They loved to play tag with me at the park. And I’m always in the kitchen with Aunt Petunia. Thanks to her I’ve become a great cook! Not to mention, Uncle Vernon has taken a very special interest in my grades at school. He always knows when I’m doing well in my classes.” The best kind of lies, Harry had found, were the ones so heavily inlaid with the truth that they were almost the same thing.

The Headmaster listened intently to Harry’s explanation of his home life, occasionally making direct eye contact as he did. It was during his description of his relationship with his cousin that he first felt the disturbance in his Forest. Recognizing the feeling as the same one he had gotten in class with Snape the day before, he realized that his suspicions on mind reading were correct. Apparently, direct eye contact was needed for it to work, which would explain the damn twinkling. What better way to draw attention to your eyes. It was with great joy that Harry both viewed and felt the Headmaster flinch as he ‘walked’ over one of the ‘bear traps’ in his mental forest. He didn’t allow the smug smile he felt tugging at his lips to grace his face, but internally he was grinning like a loon. The esteemed Headmaster had just confirmed that his traps would work on an intruder. He would have to add more if the number or curious mind readers was as large as it seemed to be in the wizarding world.

“Well, we will just have to look a bit further into the situation then. Those wards were keeping you safe, Mr. Potter. If they are gone permanently we may have to look into moving you somewhere else during the summers. I would hate to remove you from the family you’ve so obviously made a home with, but if you don’t tell me what happened I’m afraid you might not be able to return.” The Headmaster’s tone was grave, but Harry was struggling not to whoop for joy. Even if they knew I ran away, they won’t send me back there! Who knew that- wait - keeping me safe? From what? Isn’t old Voldy dead? According to this lot, I killed him nearly ten years ago, why would I still be in danger?

“-one here Dumbledore, both the brat and I do have classes to get to.” Snape’s venomous drawl pulled him from his musings and back into the present conversation.

“But of course, Severus, I’ll let you boys run off now. I will continue to look into the situation with the wards. I’m sure I will figure it out, so don’t you worry, my dear boy!” The Headmaster beamed down at the smallest Slytherin, Harry barely contained a growl at being called boy. He was no longer Boy, he left that when he left the Dursleys, Harry belonged to no one. Rising sharply from the chair, he gave a deferential nod to the Headmaster and followed his Head of House out of the office.

Severus stalked out of the office with strides too long for the petite first year to match without jogging, so Harry was soon alone in the hallway. It was then that he realized his dilemma, he still had an hour or so of charms, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember how to get there.

Harry ended up wandering the halls until he came upon a large set of doors. He nearly tripped over himself rushing to enter once he realized what it was. Above the doors were large block letters marking this the ‘Library’. If he was missing class, the least he could do is get some work done.

Thoughts of Charms work were soon buried in Harry’s mind as he caught his first view of the gigantic room. The sheer amount of knowledge present in the single room made the child weak at the knees. He quietly padded through the aisles, taking in the organization system; this was not Dewey decimals. Instead, there were sections of the library categorized by topic, and each section was then further subdivided into subtopics. It would take some getting used to for the child that basically grew up in a muggle library, but access to all this information was worth having to overcome the reasonably small inconvenience.

Harry could have wept for joy when he came across a set of shelves labeled “Heritage and Culture”; perhaps this system wasn’t entirely useless after all. Making a mental note to ask Draco for the Charms notes later, he decided to forgo studying any school subjects in favor of furthering his understanding of the world around him. The library was littered with a smattering of chairs and work tables, of which Harry soon made good use of. Taking a seat in a comfortable chair by one of the library windows and setting down a small stack of books on the table next to him, he set to work. He decided to begin with the school code of conduct, careful to read both the teachers and the students sections as it seemed to him that if he didn’t know the procedures, the Headmaster would overlook them for his own convenience.

Harry soon found himself once more in the familiar position of sitting surrounded by books and notes, finding comfort in the trait that he had carried over from his days in the muggle school library. Yes, he despised his childhood within his family’s home, but that did not mean he was without any happy memories. Friendless as he was, most of the said memories were of similar situations to this one, with him in his element, pulling one up on his uncle by learning in spite of him. Allowing himself a small smile at the memories he got back to work.

Chapter Text

Harry was very lucky that there had been a free period after Charms because when he finally pulled himself away from his books it was nearly time for lunch. As he packed up his notes and went to put away the books he had taken out, he took note of the now full tables around the room. Without his notice, students had trickled into the library for the free period. Most of them sported blue and bronze robes, which soon had Harry chuckling at the accuracy of Draco’s commentary on his new friend’s character back on the train. Perhaps, had his upbringing been different, Harry would have ended up in Ravenclaw after all.

Seeing as it was ten minutes to lunch, there was a mass of students making their way to the Great Hall for Harry to follow. Harry was the first of his yearmates to arrive to the table, making his decision on where to sit a rather difficult one. He knew that some of the upper years despised him for similar reasons that Snape did, it wouldn’t do to assume he would be welcome to sit with whomever he would like. Spotting the nearly empty bench at the far end of the table, he let out a small sigh of relief. Even if he had sat near an upper year that didn’t hate him for his existence, he did not yet trust his knowledge of the wizarding world to be extensive enough to hold conversations with strangers safely. Despite having only been in Slytherin for a day, he had overheard enough conversations to know that his upbringing would only bring others to look down upon him. Yes, sitting alone was most definitely the best decision.

Harry had already stopped marveling at the sheer amount of food, that I’m allowed to eat!, long enough to fill his plate before Draco arrived with his bookends. Seeing the raven-haired wizard already sat at the table, the Malfoy heir shooed off Crabbe and Goyle in favor of sitting with his friend.

“So you’ve not been expelled then? A pity, I was hoping to take your place as the most talked about person in the school, but alas, I am forever doomed to be in your shadow.” Draco sighed dramatically before taking his seat next to Harry with a smirk. The look soon dissipated, however, as he took in his friend's reaction to his jab. His face was closed off in a way that Draco had not seen it be since he first met him in the robes shop. Despite the mask, he did see a hint of hurt in the other boy’s eyes. Realizing he had obviously touched on some sort of sore subject, he was quick to backpedal. “I’m kidding, Harry, honest. I don’t really want you expelled. If you were I’d be left alone with rocks for brains and his double.” The joke had the desired effect of making Harry relax, though he did not laugh, his mask fell enough to show a slight smile gracing his lips.

“I don’t know, Draco, you seem to like your bookends.” Realizing the other boy had been teasing and feeling rather foolish for not realizing that immediately, Harry covered his slip with what he hoped was an appropriately witty response.

Draco scoffed. “My father is allied with their fathers, they’ve been practically groomed to follow me the same way their fathers do my father.” The blonde looked a bit put off at this, though if he was going to say more on the subject he was soon stopped by the arrival of the aforementioned boys, who had walked the long way around the table to come sit across from them. “Anyway, how come you missed Charms? Did the Headmaster really have you up there for the whole class period?” Draco’s incredulity was warranted, seeing as the classes were all 90 minutes long. Something that would keep a student in the Headmaster’s office that long could not be good.

Harry blushed at the inquiry, which startled Draco almost as much as the blank nothingness that had been on his friends face meer minutes before. The Boy-Who-Lived was perhaps one of the most closed off people Draco had ever met, and his godfather was Severus Snape. Seeing such an honest reaction, one that the boy obviously was incapable of stopping, brought a strange sort of pleasure to the blonde. He made a decision then, to provoke more honest emotion from his friend. It was rather gratifying to see past his walls.

“Well, the meeting only took about twenty minutes, and I was planning on just going in late to Charms… but Professor Snape stormed off before I could ask directions. It was alright in the end though, since when I was wandering the halls looking for the classroom I found where the library is! I have to show it to you later, it’s huge!” The faint pink tinting his cheeks disappeared and made way for a ghost-like smile as he told Draco about his discovery. He found he rather liked having someone to talk to.

“Careful, Potter, your Ravenclaw is showing.” Draco snarked at his friend’s obvious enthusiasm on the topic of books of all things. Personally, the young Malfoy preferred talking about quidditch, but seeing the normally subdued boy in front of him so excited was contagious. Well, excited by his standards anyway. The small boy wasn’t bouncing in his seat or anything else undignified, but he was smiling slightly and speaking more than a single sentence at a time. For once in his young life, Draco actually considered someone else before himself and allowed his friend to talk at him about all the interesting things he found in the library that furthered his research on magical creatures and their rights under wizarding law. If Draco was honest with himself, the topic was quite interesting. He knew very little about the subject, aside from some remarks his father had made about ‘feral beasts that ought to be put down’. Draco achieved another first that meal in deciding to listen to what his friend had found and not immediately dismissing anything that disagreed with what his father thought. Perhaps, thought the blonde, Father is misinformed on this particular subject. After all, I haven’t heard him say much on it before, so he must just not know about all the things Harry read about.

+++

After lunch was their first flying lesson. From the amount of talk, there had been on the subject of quidditch from Draco alone, not to mention the rest of the boys in their year, Harry was rather looking forward to it. The only downside to the class was that they shared it with the Gryffindors.

The pack of Slytherin first years was already waiting at the pitch when the house of red and gold began to trickle down towards them.

Madam Hooch soon handed each of them a broom and began the lesson. Harry hadn't specifically told Draco that he hadn't flown before, only that he didn't play quidditch. He only realized this upon being the first to get his broom “UP” and hearing Draco mutter something under his breath about bookworms knowing their way around a broom than a Malfoy which Harry wasn't sure he was meant to hear.

Eventually, everyone had their brooms up, though the Granger girl had found quite a bit of trouble doing so, and Hooch was explaining how to mount their brooms. In a bout of nervousness a Gryffindor boy who Harry vaguely remembered to be the Longbottom heir kicked off the ground and lost control of his broom. The familiar snap of a broken bone registered in Harry’s brain as the boy hit the ground. Hooch bustled him up to the infirmary with strict instructions for the remaining class to stay put and, not under any circumstances, fly unsupervised.

Harry looked questioningly at his friend as Draco strode over to the Gryffindor side of the pitch to where Longbottom had fallen. His curiosity piqued further as he saw the blonde pick something up from the grass. Uncertain what the other boy was up to, he walked over to where Draco was now in some kind of argument with Granger.

“That's Neville’s Remembrall Malfoy! Give it here!” If possible, the girl’s hair seemed to be even wilder than normal in her anger.

“I don't see why I should mu-” Draco spotted Harry “-Granger. Finders keepers after all.” The blonde looked a tad abashed at his near slip with the slur but continued the argument smoothly despite his friend's arrival.

Huffing in obvious irritation, the bookish Gryffindor made to grab at the device in Draco's grasp. There's that vaunted Gryffindor brashness, Harry mused. Draco only moved to hold the small clear sphere above his head, using the significant height difference between them to his advantage. Hermione was nearly growling at the point that Harry decided to intervene.

“Did you know, Draco, that House Longbottom has a longstanding alliance with House Potter?” Harry was happy to see the blonde turn to look at him as he spoke, obviously curious as to where Harry was going with this. “It wouldn't do to have me disrespect that alliance. Could you possibly release the device to me so I may return it to him? If Miss Granger’s reaction is anything to go by this sphere means something to the Heir Longbottom. Is that correct, Miss Granger?” Hermione looked a little confused at the formal titles and talk of House alliances but answered regardless. If Harry wanted to help she wasn't going to work against him.

“Yes, you're correct. It was a gift from his grandmother.” She shot a rather impressive glare at Draco as she spoke, well, impressive for a Gryffindor. Draco looked to Harry with consideration before handing the golf-ball-sized sphere over to his fellow Slytherin. He nodded at Granger before walking back to his broom, without bothering to apologize. Little victories, Harry reminded himself.

Eventually, Hooch returned and they continued their lesson. Harry was a natural on a broom. While they did not do much under Hooch’s watchful hawk-like eyes, Harry was noticeably the best flyer of their year, much to Draco’s chagrin. Harry was just pleased he hadn't made a fool of himself or fallen as the Longbottom boy had. At one point, when they were waiting for their turn to fly, Draco confronted Harry about the Remembrall.

“You know, I'm curious as to what you plan on doing with that Remembrall.” Draco's gaze was pulled to where Harry was fiddling with the aforementioned device in his robe pocket. “You're not really giving it back to Shlongbottom are you?” The boy’s name was spoken with disdain that reminded Harry rather uncomfortably of a certain red-headed Gryffindor.

“What’s your problem with Longbottom? As far as I know, there’s no blood feud between your two houses. Has something happened recently?” Harry was rather curious. It made sense in his head that Draco would have a strong dislike for Weasley because of the blood feud, and for any of the muggle-borns out of inbred prejudice, but Neville was a pureblood to a neutral House, even if it was more ‘Light’ leaning in the most recent generation, he didn’t think that could be the reason for his friend’s ire either.

Draco looked curiously at his friend. “There doesn’t have to be a feud for me to dislike him. He’s a disgrace to pureblood wizards. You have to understand, Harry. Growing up in a pureblood household, there aren’t a lot of other children to play with. I grew up around him at social gatherings and the like. Heir Longbottom might as well be a squib for his lack of magical talent; not to mention he’s frightened of his own shadow. How he got into Gryffindor of all houses, I am unsure. I was betting on Hufflepuff.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that assessment of the Heir Longbottom. On one hand, it would be good to get into the boy’s good graces, if only for the fact that it sounded like he could be easily swayed politically. Even if the Heir was a dunderhead, House Longbottom had a good share of  Wizingamot seats, it would be in his best interest not to ostracize the boy. Harry decided to share his thoughts with Draco and see what the blonde thought of his reasoning. Draco’s eyes widened at his friend’s observation.

“You know Harry, I think I’m beginning to understand why you’re not in Ravenclaw. That thought process right there is Slytherin through and through.” Draco smirked at Harry, impressed by the younger boy’s cunning. “If you’re going to make friends with Longbottom, I guess I ought to back off. I’d hate to make you choose between an allied house and a friend.” The expression on the blonde’s face became more of an honest smile at the word ‘friend’ before once more turning mischievous. “That’s not to say I’m gonna put up with him when I don’t have to though! You can be his ‘friend’ all you want, I’m not suffering his presence if I’m not required.” He turned his nose up with the proclamation, looking every bit the aristocratic pureblood heir he was raised to be.

Harry could only chuckle at his friend's antics. Whether he was being snooty on purpose or that was just his honest reaction, the young Potter heir was greatly amused. “Thank you for your understanding, Draco. I think I’ll check out the infirmary before dinner to return it to him, perhaps make friendly with him as I return his little... trinket.”

They were soon called once more to take their turn up in the air. Harry basked in the freedom being in the air gave him, far above any problems that might affect him on the ground. He was happily caught up in the feeling of the wind whipping around him when he heard Draco shout, “The Remembrall!” In his haste, Harry had not noticed the ball falling out of his pocket. Before making any conscious decision to do so, Harry was in a near vertical dive, hand outstretched towards the plummeting sphere. He was so focused on just catching the damned ball he barely registered the screams coming from the group of students on the ground. At the last possible second, his fingers clasped around the little red ball, and he pulled sharply out of his dive before touching down safely on the pitch. Pocketing the ball once more he turned back to the class only to be met with a sea of gaping faces. Even Hooch was stunned for a moment before she began to scold him.

“Young man, do you know how dangerous that was? You could have broken your neck with a stunt like that! And frankly, it’s rather impressive that you didn’t. I haven’t seen someone your age pull a trick like that in… well… ever. How long have you been flying Mr. Potter?” While the flying instructor’s rant began as an angry lecture, it quickly transformed into amazement as what she had just witnessed sunk in. This eleven-year-old child just performed a dive that some professional seekers couldn’t pull off without injury, and he caught the ball, too!

Harry shuffled uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Sure, it was a steep dive, but it couldn’t have been that impressive. “I didn’t mean to act so recklessly, Madam, I was only worried that Mr. Longbottom’s Remembrall would break. I had meant to give it to him after class. He left it when he fell.” He hoped that that would be enough of an answer, and she wouldn’t continue to pry, however, he was never that lucky.

“Well, for you to decide to dive for it shows me you’ve got confidence in your flying skills. You must have started quite young then?” Harry debated whether he should lie, before deciding not to. Surely it couldn’t be that rare for wizarding children not to fly before Hogwarts.

“No, ma’am. I never had any reason to bother with flying before today. I didn’t even really think about going after the ball, I just kinda… did” Harry winced at his lack of eloquence. If Madam Hooch had been impressed before, now she was absolutely gobsmacked. This boy just started flying today? It made her quidditch-mad heart sing to be in the presence of such natural talent.

“You mean to tell me, Mr. Potter, that you just made that dive on instinct?” Harry continued to fidget under her stare before realizing where he was and forcing himself to comport himself with dignity. She was impressed god damn it, not scolding him. He really hated that his instinct when speaking to an adult was to make himself as small and irrelevant as possible. With the Boy-Who-Lived tag on him here, all that did was make him look like a sniveling child. He mentally reminded himself that real life was, survival of the fittest you ignoramus, before straightening his spine, lifting his chin, and responding.

“Yes, ma’am. I take it this is not normally something done by a novice flyer?” The question had been a bit of a risk on his part, some adults didn’t like to be questioned, but Harry assumed that Hooch wasn’t in a scolding mood any longer. He momentarily doubted that decision when the flying instructor grabbed his arm.

“Potter, I need to take you to meet someone.” Turning to the class, “Alright kids put the brooms back in the shed, the lesson is over for today.” Tapping her foot impatiently as the students complied, she immediately started pulling Harry along once the broom shed was locked. “First-year rules be damned, Potter, the Slytherin Quidditch captain will want to know about you!” Very much relieved that he wasn’t in trouble, Harry allowed himself to be tugged along by the excited professor. She asked Professor Babbling for a Mr. Flint, and Harry was soon met with the hulking form of the Slytherin quidditch Captain: Marcus Flint.

“Mr. Flint, I believe it would be in your best interest for you to allow Mr. Potter here to try out for the seeker position this year. I’ll deal with the silly first-year rule, talent like this should not be wasted!” Flint side-eyed the small boy in front of him.

“He’s got the build for one, but we have a seeker already. I take it he’s good, otherwise, you wouldn’t be bringing him to me…. I’ll have him play a seeker’s match or two against our current seeker Terence Higgs. Farley will let you know when we’re having tryouts. She’s a Prefect, so you should know her. She’s also one of our chasers. Now, I’ve got to get back to class. Thank you, Madam Hooch.” Dipping his head in a measured bow of respect, Flint turned and went back into the classroom.

“Well, Mr. Potter, I hope to see you back on my pitch very soon! Now, you scurry off to class, I’ll send Pomona a message explaining why you’re late so don’t worry about that! Do you know how to get to the greenhouses?” Harry could have hugged the bubbly professor for asking him that. He really didn’t want to skip two classes in one day!

“No, ma’am, could you show me? Or maybe just give me directions if that’s too much trouble.” Despite her rather friendly personality, Harry didn’t want to risk irritating the professor by being too needy. He was happily surprised when she told him it was, no trouble at all, and proceeded to walk him all the way to greenhouse 4. After a quick word with Professor Sprout explaining why Harry was late, the class began once more.

Harry was only too happy to leave the greenhouse at the end of class. It wasn’t that he was bad at Herbology, quite the opposite, in fact, he was already proving to be one of the best-suited students towards plant care. It was the reason that he has so much practice in a garden that left Harry feeling terribly dirty by the end of class, and it was nothing to do with the mud caked under his fingernails.

With forty-five minutes until dinner, Harry decided now was as good a time as any to return Neville’s Remembrall. Draco, true to his word, wished him luck but adamantly refused to accompany him to the infirmary. Having passed the Hospital Wing in his exploration that morning he easily made his way there, using the mental map of Hogwarts that was slowly forming on the wall of his ‘Office’.

Chapter Text

As he entered through the large double doors he quickly spotted the Longbottom Heir laying on one of the sterile white beds along the wall. Neville looked up when he saw the doors opening and averted his gaze once he realized who had entered. He must think I’m here for someone else. Quickly making his way over to Neville’s bed, he sat himself down in one of the chairs adjacent to it and waited for Neville to look up from his textbook. When there was no movement aside from the turning of pages, Harry cleared his throat in an attempt to gain the boy’s attention. Did he not hear me come sit down? Curious, Harry stood up and walked to the boy’s bedside, placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Neville jumped at the contact and jerked his head up to look at Harry with startled eyes. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you had come over.” Brown eyes studied him warily, his hands making little aborted motions as he spoke. Harry pulled his hand away from the boy’s shoulder slowly. Longbottom’s actions were reminding Harry of someone but he couldn’t quite remember who. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to check in on you before dinner. You all healed up?” Harry thought if he was going to befriend the boy it might be best to start with that and include the Remembrall towards the end. 

Neville looked, if possible, even more wary of the Slytherin in front of him than he had at the start of their conversation. He studied emerald green eyes for any sign of dishonesty but came up blank. “You did? I - I mean, thank you, I’m healing up nicely. The Skeli- Skelegrow-” Neville reddened at his stutter,  “-is just about done working. Madam Pomfrey said I would be better by dinner.” Neville’s stuttering and stumbling over his words finally clicked in Harry’s head as to who Neville reminded him of. There had been a girl in his primary school who was hard of hearing. She had had a special teacher that went to her classes with her to help translate. Harry had been fascinated by BSL and had happily read all the books his school’s library had on the subject, as well as watching his classmate and her translator. If Harry was right about Neville, he might be securing his spot as a confidant, if he was wrong, he might make a fool of himself, but somehow he doubted Neville of all people would go spreading that around. 

Harry signed his next question, mouthing the words as he went but not saying them aloud. Are you hard of hearing? Neville gasped before frantically signing back. 

Completely deaf actually. How do you know BSL?! The quiet subdued boy was now very much gone, in his place stood a very shocked, yet most certainly pleased, young man. His hands shaped the signs he had obviously been repressing earlier in their conversation, shedding light on the odd aborted hand movements he had made while speaking. 

There was a girl at my last school who was partially deaf. I decided to learn because of her. Harry allowed himself to return the grin Neville shot his way So how come you don’t have a translator? Aren’t classes difficult? I can’t imagine having to read lips and take notes at the same time. Neville flushed pink at the inquiry, which only made Harry all the more concerned for the boy’s education. 

My gran said I shouldn’t need one. I’m- he stopped signing for a moment, sighed heavily and then continued - She says that if my father were in my place he’d be top of his class with no help at all. Honestly, it’s rather difficult. I can’t exactly be looking at the teacher and writing at the same time. And Snape is the worst, it’s so dark down in that dungeon that with his dark robes I never notice him coming to stand and watch me brew until he’s already right behind me. I startle when people sneak up on me and end up like I did yesterday, covered in a botched potion. Harry looked at Neville as if he was seeing him for the first time. All of Draco’s observations now made quite a bit more sense and made the boy's description much less incriminating. The boy wasn’t a coward, he was just caught unaware too often, unable to hear people coming. It might also be a black mark on people’s view of his intelligence that he not only stutters but probably misses half of what the teachers are saying while attempting to take notes. 

Alright, here’s what I’m gonna do. You are getting copies of all my notes. No- He grabbed Neville’s hands to stop him from disagreeing before continuing Houses Potter and Longbottom have been allied for years. I cannot just sit by and watch you miss your chance at an education. One day we will both have seats on the Wizingamot, Harry fingerspelled this, unsure if there was a proper sign for it or not, and it is beneficial to both of us if you actually learn something while we’re at school here. Aside from that, I’ve been in your place before, not losing my hearing, but being thrown into a situation without the resources required to succeed. I’d hate to let that happen to you if I can help it. Harry considered telling him that he was muggle raised, but decided against it, at least until he knew he could trust him. Somehow Harry doubted Neville would have the same reaction to the fact that Harry was muggle raised that Draco would. I really ought to tell Draco at some point though. I haven’t lied yet, only omitted truths, but if he finds out from someone other than me I might lose my first friend. 

Neville was gaping at the boy in front of him, not really sure how to react to what Harry was offering. His first coherent thought was that Harry was awfully Slytherin in his reasoning, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise considering he was a Slytherin, yet it did. Everyone who grew up in the wizarding world grew up with stories about the Boy-Who-Lived. Neville’s preconceived notions about the boy in front of him went up in smoke as they spoke. This was not the golden Gryffindor everyone had expected. Instead, Neville was faced with the kind of backhanded kindness that only came from a true Slytherin. So what if Harry got something out of this? Neville wasn’t doomed to flunk out of Hogwarts anymore so he really couldn’t care less. 

If you don’t mind I would appreciate that immensely. I’m very good at written assignments, so we could make this a study group in order to make it mutually beneficial. Actually, you mentioned that you’re helping me mainly due to our House alliance, maybe we could invite some of the others allied to you to study with us? Harry was honestly wishing Draco was here right now. If only to laugh in his face about how utterly wrong he was about Neville’s character. 

That is a brilliant idea, though I think we might leave Ronald Weasley out of it for now. Somehow I don’t think he’d agree to study with me anyway. Neville beamed at the compliment. Well keeping him happy won’t be difficult. Apparently he’s starved for praise, heaven knows I understand that. 

Ron is the worst of the Weasleys I promise. Though one out of seven kids turning out like him isn’t terrible odds. The twins are in their third year, they’re troublemakers but they’re not cruel. Percy is a stickler for the rules, the fifth year Prefect at that. He’s no fun but again, not a bad bloke. I’ve only met the older two at Christmas parties and the like when I was a kid, but from what I remember they’re pretty cool. Charley is off on a dragon preserve somewhere and The Weasley Heir, Bill, Is a curse-breaker working in Egypt. Harry was glad to hear that the rest of the family he was allied to weren't as idiotic as their youngest son. 

The pair continued their conversation until it was time for dinner. They spoke more about who they were planning on asking to study with them, at the moment the only other student their age in an alliance with the House of Potter was Susan Bones. After talking about alliances they moved into discussing the classes so far and where Neville would need the most help. When Madam Pomfrey came to clear Neville for dinner they were discussing whether or not they should bring Neville’s disability up to the teachers. 

Harry, you don't understand. Gran would be furious. It embarrasses her or rather, it's an embarrassment on the House of Longbottom. Neville looked not unlike a kicked puppy as he said this. Apparently “Embarrassment to House Longbottom” was a recurring problem, as this was the third time in the hour they'd been speaking that Neville had mentioned it. 

Neville, what's more embarrassing, you being deaf, or you failing all your classes? I understand not wanting to let the whole school know, but at least let's tell the staff. That way you won't keep getting in trouble for things that aren't your fault and they'll know to look at you directly when they talk. Not to mention we need them to allow you to be using my notes. You know Snape would throw a fit otherwise. Neville sat back looking resigned as he realized Harry had made all good points. 

Fine, you're right. Would you mind coming with me after dinner? I want to go before I lose my nerve. He looked down as he said this. Embarrassed to admit his weakness. Though at this point, Harry already had the ammunition needed to ruin him socially, well, more than he is already. 

Sure thing Neville. We can go up to see the Headmaster, or maybe you want to talk to the teachers individually? That might be less intimidating compared to having the headmaster call them all up to tell them together. It's really not-

“Boys you best be off to dinner now. You have ten minutes until it starts.” Madam Pomfrey cast a quick diagnostic spell on Neville to check that he was in fact healthy enough to leave. Satisfied with the results she shooed the boys out of her domain. 

They chatted a bit more on the walk down and parted ways at the entrance to the Great Hall. They would meet again after dinner to go talk with their teachers. 

Draco had saved Harry a seat at the table, which he took with a nod of thanks directed towards the blonde. “How was your visit with Longbottom? You were up there for the whole hour. Was he glad to have his Remembrall back?” Harry mentally facepalmed.

“I actually forgot to give it back to him. We got talking and it never came up. I'll give it to him after dinner.” Harry shook his head at his own forgetfulness. He pulled out the trinket musing about the irony of forgetting about a Remembrall when it suddenly turned bright red. What on earth am I forgetting? Harry wracked his brain for something he could have left in the hospital wing or greenhouse or the quidditch pitch - Oh… I haven’t told Draco about the quidditch tryouts yet. As soon as he remembered the red smoke swirling around the sphere dissipated. “I just remembered something.”

“You don’t say...” Harry shot a mild glare at his friend’s sarcastic commentary. 

“If you don’t want me to tell you then I won’t. No need to get all snarky at me.” Harry then did his best impression of Snooty Draco™ with his chin jutted out and his nose pointed so far up that he was looking down the line of his nose at the blonde sitting next to him. 

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry’s teasing. “Seriously, just tell me. And I wasn’t snarking, you’re the one who stated the obvious.” Harry huffed but complied nonetheless, dropping the Draco charade. Harry was pleased to see Draco’s jaw drop far enough that it may as well have been laying on the table upon hearing what Madam Hooch had done for him. 

“You mean to tell me that you get to try out for the quidditch team? This year? As a first-year!? I mean, I understand why, pulling that dive on your first time on a broom, I’d want you to play as well, but wow. Usually, it’s the Gryffindors that get all the special treatment. Weasley’s gonna be so jealous!” Draco ended his excited chatter upon noticing he had said something insensitive without meaning to, again. He really needed to work on that. 

“What’s with the long face? What did I say?”

Harry sighed, Draco had made one very good point in his overexcited monologue. “Snape is never going to let this go. He won’t believe I’m getting on the team for skill, but rather because I’m Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World. He’ll make my life hell over this.” At that moment Harry actually considered going to tell Flint that he would just try out next year as all the normal students did. Until Draco set him straight. 

“I can handle that for you. Most things, yeah, you’re on your own, but I can Slytherin my way through this particular dilemma. You’ll be playing for the Quidditch Cup, which goes towards the House Cup. Slytherin has won the House Cup for the last six years. If I tell him you’ll almost guarantee the Quidditch Cup and have him watch the try out so he can’t dispute my claim, he won’t bug you about it. Or, I don’t think he will.” Draco’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought more on the subject of his godfather’s hate for his friend. 

“Thanks, I really want to play. I get what you’ve been saying about flying now. If quidditch is my chance to fly more often, then I really want to take it.” Harry sent a small grateful smile towards his best friend. Unbenounced to him, Draco was patting himself on the back internally at the reaction his words had garnered from his friend. He would break past those walls yet. 

+++

Harry was respectfully ignoring how Neville’s hands were shaking with nerves as they conversed. They had decided to start with the less intimidating of the staff and work their way up, so naturally, they would end with Professor Snape. They were currently on their way to the greenhouses in search of Professor Sprout. They finally found the kindly professor up to her elbows in some sort of vine-like plant. Knocking to get her attention the two boys waited in the doorway for her to come to them. One of the first things she taught her first years was not to underestimate plants. Seeing as they had not yet been in this greenhouse and had no idea what lay within, they made the smart decision to let the professor come to them. 

“How can I be helping you, boys?” The soothing tones of the herbology teacher did quite a bit of good for the shaking Gryffindor. This was the one thing he was never to do. His gran considered it his greatest weakness, his Achilles heel, yet he had to lay it bare in order to succeed. He knew Harry was right, but what they were doing went against every instinct that Augusta Longbottom had programmed her grandson with. 

Harry, I don’t think I can do this. Could you please? Neville hated how weak he felt having to ask his friend to do the work for him, but he honestly wasn’t sure if he would be able to form coherent words at the moment. Much to his relief, Harry nodded in acceptance to the request, well, plea rather. 

“Ma’am, it has recently come to my attention that my friend Neville here is deaf. Now, upon his grandmother’s request, he was planning on keeping this fact a secret, but he is finding out rather quickly that despite being able to read lips, he cannot write without looking away from the lecture and at that point, he loses the conversation. You can see how this could be troublesome for his education.” Professor Sprout looked flabbergasted at this news, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. Though, she quickly schooled her features to something more neutral when she saw how her reaction was affecting the boy in question. 

“We wanted to ask you for some help ma’am. We don’t plan on making this information privy to anyone but the staff, so please keep that in mind as I continue. Neville here is perfectly capable of achieving mastery in all his classes, you only need to see his written work to know that, but he can’t listen to the lecture and take notes at the same time. What we wanted to ask is if you would be alright with me sharing my notes from your class with Neville so he can focus wholly on the lectures. On the topic of lectures, Neville cannot read your lips if you’re not facing at least mostly in his direction, so if you could keep conscious of that, it would be immensely helpful. Lastly, Mr. Longbottom here cannot hear you if you approach him from a blind spot, so do be careful to make your presence known to him before just walking up behind him, as he startles fairly easily and often messes up his work in consequence.” Harry found it was easiest to just explain everything all at once, no beating around the bush. This tactic would of course not work with every professor, but it was effective on Sprout. 

“Well this is rather unusual, but I suppose I can do that yes, shouldn’t be a problem really. You’re sure that’s all you need of me dears? If so I really ought to get back to this Devil’s snare, nasty stuff in the dark. Really docile during the day in the sunlight but if I don’t get it put away by sundown I’ll have to wrestle with it.” Once Harry had assured her that that was all they needed she bustled back into the greenhouse and was once more up to her elbows in devil’s snare. 

Well, that went well, don’t you think? Harry flashed Neville one of his rare smiles, that, now that he thought about it, hadn’t really been all that rare since he arrived at Hogwarts. 

You’re a really good friend Harry. I think I needed to see one of the teacher’s reactions before I told any of them myself. Do you think… Perhaps I’ll tell Flitwick? Harry bumped shoulders with the taller boy, silently showing his support. 

Flitwick received the news similarly to Sprout as did Quirrell, however, Harry still felt uneasy in the man’s presence. McGonagall was a little more difficult. She was furious at Augusta for not telling her about her grandson’s disability. With some Slytherin cunning, Harry did eventually manage to calm her down enough to get her to agree to stay quiet on the subject. 

It was with dread that the two boys trudged to their final destination in the dungeons. Harry knew that he was probably not the best person to help Neville with Snape, but there wasn’t exactly anyone else to do the deed, so Harry would have to do. There was still an hour until curfew so he hoped beyond hope that Professor Snape would still be in his office.  

To their luck or their misfortune, depending on how you look at it, Snape was present in his office when they arrived. The expected sneer in place, the two first years quickly scurried past their glowering professor into the room. Urging the boys to be about their business quickly, harry once more dove into the problem. However, unlike Sprout, he highlighted how the requested alterations to Snape’s actions could be beneficial to his classroom as a whole. 

“You won’t be wasting ingredients on destroyed potions, or having class disrupted by dangerous exploding cauldrons.”

After some deft verbal sparring and enough Slytherin posturing that Neville felt distinctly out of place by the end, Snape also agreed to the requested handicaps. The two boys were out of the office before Snape could even consider changing his mind. 

As Harry made his way back to the Slytherin dorms after parting with Neville, he couldn’t help the childish glee he was feeling after realizing that I actually made another friend. 

Chapter Text

It was not until the end of the first week that Harry got another chance to talk with Neville. Draco had been unsurprisingly possessive of his new friend, which, while not unusual for a spoilt only child, could have been very annoying for Harry. As it was, Harry was too happy to be getting any attention at all to really care. 

It was as they walked out of Potions Friday afternoon that Harry finally caught up to Neville. Draco had been asked to stay behind to talk with his godfather, leaving Harry by himself for the first time all week. Seeing his friend trailing behind the pack of Gryffindors on the way to the Great Hall, Harry picked up his pace and was soon walking alongside the brunette. Making sure he had been noticed by the deaf boy, he tapped Neville on the shoulder in order to get his full attention, pleased when his friend didn’t jump out of his skin. 

Meet me at the entrance of the Great Hall after dinner, I want to talk with you. Harry kept his signing as discreet as possible as well as asking the question aloud as not to draw any suspicion to his friend. Neville only nodded in response before the two went to their separate tables. 

Dinner was without fanfare and with a mumbled explanation to Draco, Harry was soon waiting outside the Great Hall. Neville was, like Harry, one of the first to leave their table at the end of dinner, and had soon joined him. Without bothering to say anything, Harry tugged on Neville’s arm and brought them both to a nearby empty classroom. 

What’s up? I haven’t talked with you all week, is everything okay? Neville’s concern made Harry feel the slightest twinge of guilt for spending the whole week with Draco, but upon remembering how much he had enjoyed the time with his first friend he ignored it. 

Sorry, I’ve either been hanging out with Draco or been studying between classes all week. That’s actually why I grabbed you. I wanted to ask if you were still up for the study group? Despite the fact that it had been partially Neville’s idea in the first place, he still worried that the Gryffindor would change his mind about wanting to spend time around him. 

I would love to do the study group, saves me from having to hunt you down for notes anyway. Harry blushed at this, immediately remembering the notes he had in his bag for his deaf friend. Are we still going to invite Susan Bones? I’ve met her on quite a few occasions before, I could ask her if you’d like, and you could invite Draco. I know he’s not in an alliance with your house but I know you’re friends with him. 

Harry smiled at the suggestion. That would be great Neville, I’ll talk with him tonight. Want to plan the first group meet-up in the library during our free period Tuesday morning? Harry was a bit apprehensive as to what the Hufflepuff would think of him, but he was prepared to meet her regardless. 

Sounds like a plan Harry! Well, we should probably get back to our common rooms soon. Before Neville could leave Harry grabbed his arm once more. He quickly signed for his friend to wait before digging through his bag. After a moment he pulled out a familiar clear sphere, an embarrassed smile on his face. 

I had meant to give this to you when I saw you in the Hospital wing. I had seen you’d dropped it and grabbed it to return it to you. I just kept forgetting to ironically enough. They shared a laugh at that before Neville pocketed his Remembrall and left with a wave. 

+++

Draco had refused to join the study group, saying that it was unseemly for a Malfoy to hold the company of squibs and Hufflepuffs. Harry had tried to argue with him until the argument “what would my father think” came out and Harry knew there would be no convincing him. So Harry ended up waiting alone at a table near the entrance of the library for his friend and his ally to arrive. 

Harry wasn’t really sure what he had expected out of Susan Bones, but whatever it was had been very wrong. The girl was tall for her age, coming to stand nearly twenty centimeters above Harry’s measly hundred and thirty. She held herself with confidence the smaller boy immediately questioned the validity of. Aren’t Hufflepuffs supposedly weak-willed pansies? You’d think she’d be afraid of the big bad Slytherin. Harry liked to think that he hadn’t allowed house prejudice to sway his judgment of people. However, there were apparently only so many times you could hear your best friend badmouth Hufflepuffs before you come to think of them all as kind little idiots before even speaking to them. With how his thoughts had been swayed, it was no surprise that Susan Bones had seemed such an enigma to him at first. 

The more he thought about it, it made sense that Susan carried herself the way she did. Her aunt, who, according to Neville, was her guardian, was the head of the DMLE. It made sense that the girl most likely knew how to take care of herself and wouldn’t be intimidated by a silver and green tie. Vowing to try harder to think around house stereotypes from now on, Harry got to work rebuilding the Potter alliances. 

“Well met Heir Bones, Harry James Potter.” Susan smiled approvingly at the formal greeting, though didn’t allow him the chance to kiss he knuckles as was normally propper, instead she grabbed his hand in a very firm handshake, apparently determined to show herself as his equal instead of as a lady to be tiptoed around. Harry was liked her immediately. 

“Well met Heir Potter.” Her voice matched her demeanor perfectly, being clear, concise and confident. She dropped his hand after a few moments and continued on much less formally. “Now that we’ve got all that boring formal whatnot out of the way, want to tell me why you’ve had Neville collect me for you?” Despite the fact that she had asked a question, her tone made it sound like more of a command. It was no matter, however, as Harry had planned to explain to her anyway. As the three of them sat down, he began to speak. 

“Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the blood alliance that was formed between our families during the last war. I wanted to befriend the heirs of the aligned families within Hogwarts now if only to make working together as adults easier.” This was very true, though Harry added a bit more to his reasoning in his head. It will also be easier to sway them to my political ideals now rather than later. If we’re friends they’re more likely to listen to my reasoning behind ideas than they might an unknown, grey aligned ally. Harry didn’t dare say this aloud, knowing his thoughts would most likely not be appreciated by his present company. Draco however he thought with fondness would understand and agree completely. 

“Well I agree with you that getting to know each other now is a good idea, but what are you proposing we do, sit around discussing politics every weekend?” Apparently Neville hadn’t informed her about the idea of a study group. 

“Not quite what I was thinking, that would probably be dull after a while, at least while we’re first years. We don’t understand enough about the background of the policies being passed to have decent opinions on them anyway. I was rather thinking of putting together a study group. No reason to stay holed up in our common rooms for revision.” Despite his hidden motives, Harry did actually think the idea was a good one. It would do him well to try and escape the bias placed on Slytherins. As he had been telling Draco, the best way to succeed was to be well-liked. That doesn’t mean you need to go soft and bend to the whims of those around you, just look at the headmaster. The headmaster was revered as some kind of deity by the Light faction, feared by the Dark and at least respected by the Grey. Harry was aiming for a similar position, but hopefully, with the end result of being respected by all three groups, fear only went so far and being worshiped really didn’t sit right with the young Slytherin. Ambition and self-obsession were very different things after all. 

Susan looked contemplative at the suggestion before another smile of approval crawled across her face. “I like the way you think, Potter. Perhaps we can invite more than just those in an Alliance though? Or maybe Neville and I can invite Heirs who are allied to us and not you? It’s a good idea for us to get together anyway, and a study group is a great excuse to do so.” Harry was internally cheering at the suggestion, other heirs would mean more possible allies that Harry wouldn’t have had access to otherwise. Just because ha planned to rid himself of the stigma placed on all Slytherins didn’t mean he was anywhere close to that goal. Had he approached any heirs, especially Light leaning ones, on his own, he would have been met with at best suspicion and at worst outright scorn. 

“That sounds like a great idea Susan, who do you have in mind? You as well Neville, can you think of anyone? Keep it to those in our year for now though, I don’t know how upper years would take to being asked to study with a group of kids with barely a week of magical education under their belts.” Harry allowed himself to laugh a little, though cut it short at the confused looks both Neville and Susan were sending his way. 

“You mean to say you had absolutely no magical education before coming to Hogwarts? Your guardians didn’t teach you about the magical properties of plants or any magical theory or anything?” Harry blanched, he should have known wizard raised children were taught basics before Hogwarts. Looking back on it it makes sense, the best students in his class so far were purebloods or half-bloods, with the exception of that one obnoxious Gryffindor girl. But now Harry was in a pickle. He had not outright lied to anyone about his upbringing, only allowed people to assume what they wanted based on his actions. He now had to decide to either spin a story right this second and hope they bought it, or finally tell someone the truth. Well, obviously not the whole truth, but the fact that he was muggle-raised at least. 

Despite being very good at lying, Harry did not want to deal with the inevitable revealing of the truth and having to justify his lies without losing his allies’ trust. Hopefully sharing this secret with them would actually gain him some. “Alright Miss Bones, Neville, I’m going to tell you something that you have to promise not to repeat unless I tell you it’s okay. This information could reflect very poorly on my back in Slytherin. Can I trust you two to keep quiet?” Harry really hoped so. 

Neville, who had been a quiet observer of the interaction so far, was the first to respond. “You already know enough about me Harry that it would be stupid of me to not keep your secret. N-not that I wouldn’t k-keep it anyway.” Neville fell back into his stuttering as he realized what he had said could be taken as a statement of his distrust of the Slytherin. Harry only waved him off. 

“I know what you meant Neville, I’m not offended, nor did I think that was the only reason you would agree.” Susan looked curiously between the two, obviously curious about the secret Neville had alluded to. She sent a questioning look to her childhood friend, wondering what he could have told Harry, someone, he’s only known a week, that he had not told Susan, a friend of many years. Neville flushed and gave her muttered assurances that he would tell her later. Placated, she turned her attention back to Harry. 

“I can assure you that anything told to me in confidence will not be shared around. Also, no need to call me ‘Miss Bones, just Susan is alright.” She scrunched her nose at her formal title. That along with the handshake from earlier lead Harry to believe that, while Susan knew pureblood etiquette, she obviously disliked using it when not strictly necessary. 

“Thank you, Susan, you may call me by my given name as well.” Harry paused, thinking about how much he wanted to reveal to the two seated at the table with him. “My guardians before Hogwarts did not teach me anything even alluding to magic, because they were muggles.” Neville looked to him with shock and Susan actually gasped at the confession. “I didn’t know I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday when I got my Hogwarts letter. I didn’t get to Diagon Alley until the week before school. You can see where this could be bad for my reputation in Slytherin, right?” He looked searchingly at his, still obviously shellshocked allies across from his. Susan was the first one to pull herself out of it and start questioning him. 

“You mean to tell me that Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Heir to the Great and Noble House of Potter, was raised by muggles!?!” Her shock only lasted a moment before she got back to business. “ You seem to have a pretty good grasp of etiquette and policies though, obviously whichever of the staff they sent to get you explained your position well.” Now it was Harry’s turn to look confused. 

“Why would one of the Hogwarts staff have explained anything to me? I’ve just been reading a lot.” Susan huffed in exasperation, the puff of air blowing her strawberry blonde bangs out of her eyes, apparently nothing had been done correctly in regards to Harry Potter.

“Harry, muggle-born students are supposed to be introduced to the wizarding world by one of the staff. The Headmaster sends either out McGonagall or Sprout most of the time to talk to the families and bring the student to Diagon Alley for the first time. The fact that all the normal protocols have been ignored would drive my Aunt Amelia crazy, she’s very strict about the rules being followed correctly.”

“How did you even find Diagon Alley?” Susan was considering owling her aunt were it not for her promise to Harry she probably would have, but Harry’s point about his status in Slytherin was a well made one, and she didn’t want to make Harry’s life harder than it obviously was already. She was trying to imagine condensing her entire upbringing into two weeks of reading and found herself both dizzy and terribly impressed by the boy in front of her. Had she not asked the right question, she would have never guessed Harry wasn’t raised as she was. 

“I’m not a muggle-born though am I? I think, based on their letter and what I’ve heard from the Headmaster, that it was assumed that I would at least know I was a wizard before I got my letter. I grew up with my mother’s sister’s family. My Aunt Petunia apparently knew about magic and had been to Diagon Alley and King’s Cross with my mother when they were children. The Headmaster assumed she would know how to get me everything I needed and to the platform.” Harry took off his glasses and scrubbed his face, finding himself very weary all of a sudden. 

“Well, that was a mistake on their part. You know what they say about assuming.” Susan said with a light laugh. “Though you’ve done very well teaching yourself, I’m sure Neville and I could help you along as well, outside of the regular study sessions that is. The fewer people that know about this the easier your life is going to be, but you’ve got allies behind you.” Harry was very grateful for the show of Hufflepuff loyalty at that moment. Neville took this turn in the conversation as a chance to bring them back to their original topic. 

“The House of Longbottom has a lot of blood allies, but only one of them is in our year aside from you two. She’s a Ravenclaw, Su Li. Our families have been allies for some time starting in the 17th or 18th centuries. I have some other allies but they’re either graduated, in an upper-year or not yet at Hogwarts. What about you Susan?” Susan looked a bit turned around at the topic change but quickly regained her footing and responded. 

“I’ve got three in our year and like Neville here, a few in upper years or graduated, though I don’t know of any younger than us. In our year I have the Patil twins, Padma in Gryffindor and Pavarti in Ravenclaw, along with Hannah Abbott with me in Hufflepuff.” Harry thought of something as Susan gave her list and grinned at Neville. 

“Looks like we’re going to be a bit outnumbered mate. That’s five girls and two of us.” Neville paled a little bit at the comment but soon joined Harry in chuckling at the circumstances. “No matter, I think this will be a great group!”

+++

Before he knew it they were already six weeks into the term. Snape was still an unrepentant asshole to Harry, though that was hardly news at this point. Apparently toning down his unpleasantness towards Neville meant Harry would be getting both their shares of venomous drivel. Harry’s success in the Potions classroom only worked to further irritate the professor, but Harry would be damned before he held himself back again. Verbal abuse he could stand, so, unless the school brought back corporal punishment, Harry planned to keep his place at the top of his class. 

Harry was in the library going over one of his potions essays when he was approached by one Hermione Jean Granger. Now, Harry didn't dislike the muggle-born simply because she was a muggle-born. Rather, her incessant need to answer each and every question in each and every class without allowing any of her year mates to answer themselves got old really quickly. So when she sat herself down next to him he could only sigh deeply and mentally prepare for dealing with the bossy know-it-all. 

“You are a very confusing boy Harry Potter. You are written about in dozens of books, yet you act nothing like you in any of them. Why did you change?” Hermione could not fathom why someone would make such a dramatic personality switch. As far as she was concerned, Harry should be the Gryffindor Golden Boy, defender of all things Light, enemy to the dastardly Slytherins. All of the books said so. But instead, he turned up Hogwarts after befriending Draco Malfoy, got in a fight with a Weasley and then to top it off, was sorted into Slytherin. It didn’t make any sense and frankly, Hermione didn’t like it one bit. 

“Miss Granger, why is it that you assume that I have changed? Did it not cross your mind that perhaps the information in those books was false?” The urge to sneer at the naive girl was strong, but he refrained in lieu of the chance to correct her misconception and not make any enemies in the process. 

“Why would someone lie in a history book? That’s ridiculous. You mean to tell me that all of those authors just made assumptions about you and wrote them as fact?” The poor girl was actually having trouble trying to wrap her head around the concept. She relied on books because they didn’t lie. People lie, books are supposed to be safe. What she had never before really taking into account, however, was that the books were written by people. People who can lie. 

“That is exactly what I am saying, Miss Granger. It would do you some good to take your nose out of your books every once and a while and actually interact with the people around you. You will find that there is often just as much to be learned from them as there is between the pages of one of your tomes.” Harry looked at the girl passively, curious as to how she would take his advice. 

“I- I didn’t think-” The petite muggle-born was struggling to comprehend the revelation the Slytherin had just sparked in her mind. As she took his words under consideration she couldn’t help the indignant huff at his words of advice. “It’s a little hard to learn from those around me when none of my year mates want to talk to me.”

“Had you considered, Miss Granger, that perhaps that is your fault? Your arrogance can be a little off-putting.” Hermione spluttered at the accusation. Harry raised a delicate eyebrow at the girl. Does she really not know how her obnoxious hand waving and busy-body attitude makes her appear?

“Ar-Arrogant?! How am I arrogant? The blonde git you call a friend is arrogant, not me!” Harry couldn’t dispute the claim on Draco’s character, even if the blonde was improving, but he could very well do so for her own. 

“No? Then what would you call someone who is so assured in her knowledge that she finds it her place to butt into other people's conversations with the sole purpose of correcting them. Or someone who, is, yes very intelligent, but makes sure that everyone is aware of this fact at every possible moment by shouting out answers in class without being called on and constantly waving their hand about to get the teacher’s attention. Who never gives anyone else in their class a chance to answer questions and better their own educations. Obviously they think their peers to be less important than their own need to prove themselves. Is that not the actions of someone arrogant, Miss Granger?” Harry didn’t have it in him to feel bad for the tears leaking out of the girl’s eyes. Unlike Draco’s cruelty on the train, he had only spoken facts, not to mention she had started the whole situation by throwing accusations his way. 

“Do people actually see me that way?” Her voice was the quietest Harry had ever heard coming out of the normally very abrasive Gryffindor. With a deep sigh, he decided to take pity on the now crying girl. 

“Yes, Granger, it is, but I don’t think it’s too late to rectify your actions. We’re only six weeks into the year. If you back down now people will just brush it off as you being a confused muggle-born trying to find your place.” Harry removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It really wasn’t entirely Hermione’s fault. She didn’t actually have the arrogance she had been projecting, she just wanted to prove herself. “You’re very intelligent Granger, you can continue to be so without rubbing your classmates’ noses in it. If no one is volunteering an answer, then, by all means, put up your hand. You obviously know most of what the teachers are discussing, but part of the learning process for those who aren’t geniuses is being corrected.” 

Hermione looked contemplative before throwing Harry off by shooting a blinding smile in his direction. “Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Potter. I think I’m finally understanding why I’ve been having so much trouble here. Perhaps I could start rectifying my actions with you?” Receiving a wary nod from the Slytherin she proceeded to stick her hand out in front of her. “Hermione Granger pleased to meet you,” Harry responded with an honest grin of his own. Maybe there was a chance the girl wasn’t a hopeless case after all. He took her hand, his parchment pale skin standing in contrast to the warm dark tones of hers and surprised Hermione by placing a kiss to the back of her knuckles. 

“Harry James Potter at your service. The pleasure is all mine, Miss Granger.” He dropped her hand and sat back in his seat at the table. His movement was quickly mirrored by Hermione. 

“I actually have a less personal question... if you wouldn’t mind me asking?” Being careful not to state the request as a demand, Hermione really hoped to finally get some answers. Maybe Harry was right in saying some things could only be learned from other people. 

“Go ahead and ask.” Harry could only guess what she could possibly ask. While he was not going to contradict what he had previously said, there was a lot to be learned from books. She should be capable of doing as he had done and assimilating herself to the Wizarding World with books, it was in her disposition to do so, though, some observation of her peers wouldn’t go amiss. If she had a question though, he would answer. 

“Well, back during the first week of lessons you mentioned something about House Alliances and called Neville Heir Longbottom,  and none of the history books I’ve read have explained why that could be. I read about people with the title of Lord or Lady but I really don’t know what it’s all about.” Her frustration was evident as she spoke. 

“Granger, have you taken a look at any of the books the school has on wizarding heritage and culture? I happen to know the library has a whole bookshelf on the subject.” Harry was finding it difficult to believe that, with as smart as Granger was, she had not looked into any books on Wizarding culture. History books were not the place to learn how to survive in a new environment. 

“There is? Is it really different from Muggle Britain that they have whole books on it?” Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the monumentally dim statement. 

“Yes Granger, it really is. Do you mean to tell me that a smart girl like you didn’t think about possible culture shock when you found out about a secret magical world? ” She had the grace to looked abashed at his question. 

“I didn’t think about it really…” There was a new sort of spark in her eye as she realized there was an entire shelf of books for her to start reading. Seeing she was just about ready to go looking for books right now Harry sent her off with one last word of advice. 

“Before you run off to inhale a small mountain of books, may I recommend you also look into some etiquette books? I’m not trying to insult you Miss Granger, but there are some very particular rules when interacting with certain people. I’m sure you’ll figure it out quickly.” Once more her book hungry self, Hermione ran off to find the mentioned section of the library, throwing a quick “thank you” over her shoulder. 

Harry rubbed tiredly at his face before turning back to his work. He was honestly rather glad Hermione hadn’t thought to ask about what he was researching. He was once again venturing beyond his assigned studies. In the stacks surrounding him, he had few actual books aside from the few supposedly about him and the last war. Mostly he had piles upon piles of newspapers and a neat stack of court transcriptions. Hermione had been very right in that most of the authors of the more recent history books on the last war were very lacking in actual facts about him. If they were willing to lie about him for a profit, he didn’t doubt that they had changed, left out or just plain made up other information about the war. 

He had begun only looking into information about the most recent war against Voldemort, but after a number of allusions to the Dark Lord he had taken up the mantle of Dark Lord from, Harry found himself reading all about the Dark Lord Grindelwald. 

Honestly the only problem Harry saw with both of the Dark Lords is the execution of their ideals. That and the assumption that muggles were basically animals. Harry could easily support the idea of separation from the muggle world. Harry had first-hand experience with how muggles could react to having a magical child in their care. Sure, there were parents like Hermione’s that would be proud to have a witch in the family, but the risk that the reaction would be violent was high enough to warrant removing the children and moving them to wizarding families, or at least keeping the situation monitored. Cutting them off entirely was, inarguably, a very stupid idea. The wizarding population, as it stood, was not large enough to avoid inbreeding to a dangerous level. 

Another of the stupid ideals spouted on about was the eradication of all muggles. Harry would like to see them try. Last he knew the population of muggles was large enough to make the Wizarding world seem nearly insignificant in comparison. Were they to try and fight them, magic or not, there would be another witch hunt. It was with his knowledge of human nature that he could be assured in the fact that assimilation with muggle was also not a feasible goal. The fact that Dumbledore thought it was, was concerning. 

To Harry, there was a stark contrast between standing for muggle-born’s integration to wizarding society and integrating wizards into muggle society. Everything unique and important to the cultural identity of Wizarding Britain would most likely be lost. That being the best-case scenario. Most likely what would actually happen would be that the muggles would kill them all off in fear of the unknown factor that is magic. No, Harry couldn’t get behind the ideals of the ‘Light’ side either. Sadly that didn’t exactly leave him with many options. There were a number of Neutral Houses but they were the minority in the Ministry and often had to chose a side for lack of a third option. 

Tired of running around in metaphorical circles he collected all the books he had been reading through, scowling at the bad renditions of himself on some of the covers. Caught up in his irritation at the authors of the books, he went around a corner too quickly and ran straight into someone exiting the aisle he had been about to enter. He landed on the floor with a soft grunt of pain, the stack of books he had been carrying scattered about around him. From his place on the floor, Harry had a good view of a set of pitch-black teaching robes and a pair of men’s dragonhide boots. Knowing full well who the robe and boots belonged to, Harry gulped. 

Harry had not actually been left alone with the potions professor since they walked together to the Headmaster’s office on the second day of school. Since then potions had taken Herbology’s place as his least favorite class. No matter what he did Harry could never escape the man’s ire. It was only the fact that Harry knew from his reading that it was against Snape’s teaching contract to physically discipline a student that kept him from cowering before the figure looming over him. Or at least he managed to avoid doing so until the dark professor spoke. 

“You idiot boy! Do you not have eyes?” 

That did it, hearing his old name spat at him in a way so reminiscent to that of his uncle caused Harry to duck his head and raise his arms in a well-learned position of self-defense. The potions master was too caught up in his lecture to really take note. “What’re you even doing in the library on a weekend anyway?” With a sneer, Snape picked up one of the books with a smiling picture of ‘Harry’ brandishing a wand on the cover. “Ah, pleasure reading I see. Reading all about yourself. I really shouldn’t be surprised. You know your father had a big head too, but at this rate, you might actually surpass him in how self-absorbed you are.” Finally looking directly down at the boy at his feet Snape paused. What, did the boy expect him to hit him? The brat would think so lowly of him. “Get up off the floor and look at me when I’m speaking to you, Potter.” 

Harry’s chin jerked up at his name, snapping out of the submissive stupor he had fallen into. He quickly gathered his books before standing and looking back up at his professor. “Yes sir, sorry sir.” The hollow look in such familiar green eyes made Snape uncomfortable for reasons he’d rather not look further into. He brushed past the insolent brat muttering about arrogant children as he went, leaving a very emotionally drained Harry Potter in his wake. 

Chapter Text

Following the altercation with Snape in the library, Harry was quieter than he had been since the start of term, if not more so, and Draco was worried. He was very proud of the progress he had made with his friend’s nasty habit of hiding his emotions. Since the beginning of school, Draco had been getting more and more honest smiles and laughter every day. The Malfoy Heir had never had a friend that was his for the sole reason of wanting his friendship, not until Harry. Most only hung around him for his title or money. Harry had plenty of his own money and was probably more notorious than even Draco (not that he would admit it). 

Because of this he treasured his friendship with Harry and had been enjoying his little project. Whatever happened between lunch and now had set his friend back entirely. Jibs and sarcastic comments on the students around them, that would have recently received a laugh or at least a smile garnered no visible reaction. When Harry spoke for the first time since he had come back to the common room it was not, as Draco had hoped, an explanation for his actions, but instead, a few quiet words about not feeling up to dinner was all he got before his small friend made his way to their dorm. 

Draco had decided to go to dinner alone and that if Harry was still acting strangely by the time he got back, he would confront him about it. Unfortunately, but not entirely unexpectedly, Harry was still a shadow of his usual self when the rest of the first-year Slytherin boys made their way to their dorm after dinner. Harry was sat on his bed reading a book. The familiarity of the situation had originally made Draco hopeful for his friend’s state of mind. That is until he attempted to draw Harry’s attention away from the book without success. Only the occasional turning of pages convinced Draco that his friend wasn’t just staring mindlessly at the book. 

+++

Harry knew he was making Draco worry. He just couldn’t, for the life of him, bring himself to care. His current state of apathy was a familiar one. It had been one of his best defenses back when he lived as Boy. Reacting at all to his uncle’s beatings, or his aunt’s verbal lashings would only lead to worse punishments. He had learned pretty swiftly how to just stop feeling entirely. It never lasted long of course. Now knowing what he did about mental magic he would probably venture to guess it was some form of magical mental defense, especially considering how tired he always was when the feeling faded. Knowing he ought to say something to appease his friend, Harry put down his book and turned to the worried blonde. 

“I’ll be fine in the morning Draco, just leave me be, for now, okay?” Not waiting for a response, Harry placed his book on his bedside table and stood up get a change of clothes and walk to the bathroom. 

He was soon dressed and washed and ready for bed. Laying down he closed his bed hangings, ignoring his protesting friend. He could deal with him again in the morning, hopefully. 

Unfortunately for Harry, he had been incorrect as to how soon the numbness would wear off. Normally, Harry would relax into his mental Bedroom before succumbing to sleep. This almost always guaranteed a peaceful night. Tonight, however, he hadn’t thought to bother doing so and he paid for it. A swirling mix of memories of meaty fists and cupboards coupled with a familiar pair of angry obsidian eyes that dug through his skull, allowing the looming dark presence in his forest to consume him completely. 

He woke with a shout, which was quickly cut short by his instinct ingrained in him by the Dursleys to always stay silent. He shoved his fist in his mouth to muffle the fearful whimpers he was struggling to repress. He waited with bated breath for the sound of his uncle bounding down the stairs to come from above him before he began to take in his surroundings. He was not locked in his cupboard, as the small enclosed space had made him think, rather in the confined space of his closed bed curtains. I’m not there any longer, I’m not going back. I’m at Hogwarts, I’m safe here. He repeated the mantra to himself a few times before he felt calm enough to remove the hand from his mouth without fear of waking up his dorm mates. After casting a quick tempus and upon realizing it was only three in the morning he flopped back down from his previously seated position and mourned his lack of sleep. With the amount of adrenaline rushing through his system he would be lucky to get to sleep before Christmas, let alone get a few more hours before breakfast. 

In the vain hope of tiring himself out enough to go back to sleep, Harry slipped a robe over his nightclothes and donned a pair of worn sneakers before exiting the dorm. He’d been meaning to explore the castle more anyway, might as well do so now. Technically he didn’t think he was breaking any rules. Sure, curfew was at 10, but it was technically Sunday morning already, if still terribly early. 

He was on his way up a flight of stairs leading to the second floor when he realized he was being followed. Immediately assuming the worst, that it was Filch or his cat, he ducked into an alcove, waiting for his follower to walk past him. He had not expected his stalker to be a certain blonde who was, much to Harry’s sudden amusement, sporting some rather impressive bedhead. Draco was walking slowly towards where Harry was hidden in the shadowy alcove. Deciding the blonde deserved it for following him, Harry quickly snatched Draco’s arm as he walked past where Harry was hidden, pulling him in the alcove with him. The undignified squawk that came out of the blonde in response had Harry laughing harder than he could remember ever laughing before. Having burnt out his masks with the self-induced apathy the day before, he had no energy to stop himself, not that he wanted to really. Who knew laughing was so pleasant? 

Draco, who had quickly attempted to compose himself, was now gaping openly at the peals of unrestrained laughter coming from his friend. Whatever was happening with Harry was obviously a lot more significant than Draco had originally suspected. With as unguarded as the small boy now was, now was the perfect opportunity to confront him about it. In any other house taking advantage of the chink in a friend’s armor would be considered a betrayal, meanwhile, Harry had honestly been expecting it. 

“Alright, this is enough. I’m glad you’re smiling now, but whatever triggered… this,” He gestured to Harry with a flap of his hand, concern evident on his pointed featured. “...needs to be discussed, right now. Don’t even bother arguing with me, Harry James Potter. I know the perfect place to talk. Father told me about this room on the seventh floor. We will be going now .” Not giving Harry any chance to protest, he grabbed the smaller boy’s hand and started tugging him along. They walked in companionable silence to the seventh floor, listening for any possible teachers patrolling, even if it was unlikely at this time of night. Coming to a long stretch of empty wall across from a large portrait, Draco dropped Harry’s hand and began pacing, muttering something under his breath as he did so. Harry was about to question what exactly was supposed to happen when a door materialized out nothing on the previously blank wall. “Come on then, we can talk in here.” Harry slowly made his way towards the door after his friend. 

Harry had known that he wouldn’t be able to hide from Draco forever, the boy was much too observant for his own good. As reluctant as Harry was to bare his soul, he was glad it was Draco that he was first allowing past his walls. The blonde had, in six short weeks, become his closest friend. It was a risk for him to have allowed the boy so close, but he had yet to give him a reason not to. Rather than cause him any harm, Harry found himself often laughing in Draco’s presence. Smiles were not in short supply anymore, just being around his first friend had him… well, happy . And that was the heart of it. Draco made him happy. He felt safe to open up to the blonde. So with a deep breath, he steeled himself and strode through the door. 

The room was small and cozy. There was a bright fire burning in the hearth, with a small couch placed invitingly in front of it. On the coffee table was a tea tray, much to Draco’s surprise. He had asked the room for somewhere Harry would be comfortable talking with him. Apparently the room thought that tea was an important factor in Harry’s comfort.

 Draco had already sat down on the couch when Harry finally stepped through the door, looking around the room with wide eyes. It was then that Draco noticed that Harry had left his glasses back in the dorms. His wide green eyes, without the glass usually obstructing his view of them, glowed wetly in the firelight.  

Once he had taken in the room, Harry made his way over to the couch and sat down next to Draco. Staring into the fire trying to figure out how to even start, Harry missed when Draco quietly called his name. A hand on his knee pulled Harry’s attention back to the boy sitting only inches in front of him. 

Draco removed his hand once he had Harry’s attention, not wanting to overwhelm the unguarded boy across from him. “Do you want me to ask questions or would it be easier if I just let you just talk?” The quiet inquiry was met with silence for long enough that Draco began to worry that Harry had regressed back into whatever state he had been when he had gone to sleep. But after what seemed like an eternity Harry began to speak. 

“Could you promise not to say anything until I’m done? This… this is going to take a while and if I stop I doubt I’ll be able to start again.” Draco knew that Harry needed to get whatever this was off his chest so he agreed easily. Somehow Draco knew that Harry hadn’t told anyone about this before, and he mentally jumped for joy that Harry trusted him enough to tell. 

“Well, I need to start with the fact that my not telling you any of this before wasn’t because I didn’t trust you, more that I didn’t trust anybody, to be honest, the list of who I trust now is still very short. I know it’s only been six weeks but, Draco, you’re the closest friend I’ve got.” Draco preened at this, however, he kept his promise and stayed silent. Here goes everything “The relatives I was raised with were the worst sort of muggles.” 

As Harry went on to explain his life before Hogwarts Draco truly struggled to stay silent. He had first been annoyed at the realization that Harry had never before corrected his assumption that he had been raised in a Wizarding family, but soon stopped caring as he realized exactly why his best friend never spoke about his home life. The cupboard alone was enough to have Draco angry beyond reason on Harry’s behalf. By the time Harry had admitted he had been starved and beaten Draco could have cast the killing curse without hesitation. When Harry explained his reason for his love of books and the restraints that had been put on his education by his uncle Draco just felt empty. He was beyond anger, it hurt to think of how hellish Harry’s upbringing had really been. Harry’s quiet and withdrawn demeanor at the beginning of the year was beginning to make a startling amount of sense.

The fact that the entire story was told to in a cold, factual tone, that Draco suspected was the only thing keeping Harry from tears, didn’t help his despair. Harry had gotten to explaining the events of the previous afternoon when he finally explained the well-trained persona of ‘Boy’ and how the Professor had reminded him strongly enough of his uncle that he had retreated into his mind behind a  thick shield of apathy. The room was silent when Harry finished. Draco had no idea how he could possibly respond to that. Sadly Draco had another of his Harry invoked Malfoy firsts at that moment, upon realizing there really was something he was incapable of doing.

Harry took his silence the wrong way and for the first time while they had been in the room, struggled to fight off tears. “Please don’t think less of me.” The quiet plea snapped Draco out of his stupor “I didn’t wasn’t allowed to say no, I didn’t know how to stop them and now I’m broken and dirty an-.” 

“Stop please!” Draco cut off Harry’s distressed cries. “I don’t think it’s your fault!” He grabbed Harry’s hands, hoping beyond hope that the boy in front of him would stop spouting off the lies he had been fed in place of real food for so long. Holding his small broken friend close, Draco began to shed tears of his own. Having been sheltered from this kind of thing his whole life, the normally stoic blonde found himself incapable of processing such negative information. After nearly a full moment of silence, Draco spoke once more.

“You Harry James Potter, are the strongest person I have ever known.” The quiet proclamation murmured gently into the space between them was the last straw before, for the first time in years, Harry cried. Draco, unsure how else to help, pulled Harry into an awkward hug. The boy encased in his arms was truly sobbing, great gasping sobs that wracked his frail, scarred body. 

“I  *sob* thought *sob, gasp* thought that *sob* I - I *sob* de- *gasp* -served it *sob* for - for so *gasp, sob* long.” The broken declaration only served to make Draco hold Harry tighter. Though he was glad for the past tense in the statement, even if he knew that on some level Harry would still be struggling, at least consciously he was aware that his upbringing was wrong. 

After an indefinite amount of time the tears stopped, Harry basked in the feeling of being held, another first Draco had given him. They had been holding each other in the silent room when suddenly Harry began to laugh. This was not the carefree, mirth filled laugh Draco had heard coming from Harry when he had scared Draco in the hallway, no, this was something Draco had not yet heard come from his best friend. It was a bitter, near-hysterical laugh. 

Draco was about to push Harry to arm's length and make sure he was alright when Harry pulled himself back and his raspy and broken voice cut through the laughter, though his words were punctuated with the occasional bout of dark laughter. 

“I never told you why the Headmaster brought me up to his office on the second day of school, did I?” Harry bowed his head, looking to the side at the still roaring flames. “He wanted to discuss the wards around my family’s house. Apparently they were the only thing keeping me safe. Then, our dear esteemed Headmaster went on to tell me what a nice young lady my aunt had been as a girl.” Harry once more leaned closer to Draco as he spoke. “The ward he mentioned, has supposedly been keeping me safe all these years, it’s apparently strengthened by the ‘familial bond’ between my family and me.” He let out another hollow laugh before sighing. “When I left at the end of the summer I vowed to myself to never return… I think that was the final straw for the wards, as weak as they would have been already.” Harry was looking Draco straight in the eyes now. “You have to promise not to tell anyone I ran away, no one can know, especially the thrice-damned Headmaster.” Draco swallowed at the intensity of Harry’s gaze. 

“I promise, I won’t let them send you back either. I won’t let them hurt you again” Draco’s lip curled into a snarl at the hypothetical enemy. “I’d like to see them try.”

Chapter Text

In the week following the night in the Room of Requirement Draco made it his mission to keep Harry from being triggered again. As one might imagine, he took particular care in potions. Before Draco had known Harry’s past he had been irritated and confused by his godfather’s treatment of his first true friend, now, it just made him angry. It was a new feeling for Draco. Severus had never before done anything wrong in Draco’s eyes. He was family to Draco, something akin to a beloved uncle. Seeing him behave so nastily to his friend, insulting him at every opportunity and with information that was just so wrong it hurt to listen to. Saying that Harry was a spoilt brat was like saying Lucius Malfoy was a muggleborn. It took just one class to put Draco in a snit. 

Draco’s new attitude towards Severus had the potions master in a similar state of ire, though his anger was much less justified. Every time Draco defended the blasted brat to him all he could think of was that, once more, a Potter had turned someone he cared for against him. Draco had always looked up to him, respected him, and now he was treating him with the same disdain he knew the brat felt for him, even if the boy hid it well, he knew. 

Harry really didn’t know how he was supposed to handle Draco’s newfound protective streak. On one hand, it was rather flattering to know Draco cared enough about Harry to defend him to his beloved godfather, on the other hand, he was choosing Harry over his godfather, which obviously did little to solve the professor's distaste for Harry if anything it only made it worse. 

One good thing that came out of Draco’s new determination to never leave Harry’s side was that the Malfoy Heir finally agreed to join the study group. Harry had been meeting with the group every Wednesday during their free period and on the occasional Saturday. Harry had been on his way to the library after lunch on Wednesday as always when the conversation that spurred this new development took place. 

“And where are you going off to?” Draco’s question made Harry pause and turn back to the blonde, who was still sitting at the Slytherin table. Harry had gotten up to make his way to the library as usual before his friend stopped him. 

“Where do I go every Wednesday, Draco?” Harry sighed. Honestly, it’s been over a month since we started this study group, you’d think he knows where I disappear every week. It’s not like I don’t talk about it all the time. 

Draco flushed a little once he remembered Harry’s study group and stood to join him. “And you were planning to go without me were you?l” Harry just looked at his friend, amused at the change of heart. 

“Draco you never come with me, it's below you to spend time with ‘squibs and Hufflepuffs’ if I remember the last time I asked you to join us.” Despite his love for his friend, Harry couldn't keep the sneer off his face as he quoted Draco, or rather, quoted Draco quoting his father. 

Draco blanched a bit at the appearance of the sneer on Harry's face, as it was not exactly a common expression on the smallest Slytherin. Hoping to backpedal he retracted the earlier statement. “Well if you deem them worthy of your presence after all these weeks then there have to be some redeeming qualities to some of them… I trust your judgment of their character.” Draco dipped his head in a small show of respect, hoping to show that his previous statements on Harry's friends were no longer held. Harry had been telling Draco to think for himself quite often lately, and he was willing to try. If Harry liked his little group of misfits then Draco was sure there had to be some reason why. 

Pleased that his friend was willing to put prejudice aside if only to make his own judgment, Harry smiled and pulled Draco along towards the library. 

+++

When they arrived at the Library Draco was surprised by the number of people gathered for Harry's study group. The blonde had been under the impression that it was only the squib Longbottom and the Hufflepuff Bones girl that Harry was meeting with every week. Instead of a small table for three, there were three tables pushed together to accommodate the group of seven that were waiting for Harry to arrive. Seeing him approach with Draco in tow, the blonde was shocked to see Longbottom of all people pulling up an extra seat. It wasn't until he sat down that Draco finally took in the people surrounding him. 

They were all purebloods in the strictest sense of the word, meaning all of their families were purely wizarding, no muggle blood aside from that of muggleborn witches and wizards. Not only were they all at least Great and Honorable Houses, if not Ancient and Honorable. He didn't expect to see any Ancient and Noble houses seeing as there were none currently enrolled at the school, but it was still an impressive group. Not only that, but there were Light, Grey and Dark House heirs present. Mostly Grey Houses, but still more than Draco would have expected. 

Draco was sitting between Harry and a Hufflepuff girl he recognized as the one that stood up for him on their first night, Hannah Abbot. Next to her was Heir Bones, whom he had expected to see as she was allied to House Potter. The two of them were the last of the Light aligned Houses. Next to them were a pair of twin girls, one in Gryffindor colors and the other in Ravenclaw. Based on their appearance Draco could say with confidence that they were the daughters of house Patil, not heiresses but still, part of an Ancient and Honorable Grey aligned House. Next to the one in the blue and bronze was another Ravenclaw whom he could venture to guess was the Li Heiress. House Li, from what he remembered from his father’s lessons, was a Grey aligned Great and Honorable house that had come to Britain in the late 19th century during some muggle conflict in China. The next Ravenclaw was one Draco couldn't help but recognize. Morag MacDougal was a girl he had seen a lot growing up at the many gatherings he and his parents had attended with the other Dark aligned families. House MacDougal was a Great and Honorable house from Scotland. Other than Draco, she was the only other Dark aligned Heir at the table, but the fact that she was there at all opened his eyes more to his best friend's ideology. As his scrutinization of the table occupants moved on he nearly gasped, next to Morag was someone he had not expected to see. Since when did Harry have contact with Daphne Greengrass? But there she was, in all her Slytherin glory, Heiress Greengrass, Heir to the Ancient and Honourable House of Greengrass. While they were a Grey aligned house, they were suspected supporters of the last Dark Lord, someone Draco would not have suspected Harry to associate with. But then again I made this assumption when I thought his only friends aside from me were a light squib and an even lighter Hufflepuff. Next to Daphne was the aforementioned squib, which brought them back to Harry. 

Draco blinked, thoroughly confused, and turned once more to his friend. “Since when are you friends with half our year mates Harry? I thought this group was just you Bones and Longbottom.” Harry wasn't sure if it was the dumbfounded look or the incredulous drawl coming from his best friend, but Harry couldn't help but find the question quite humorous. 

“Draco I explained to you ages ago that our study group was made to help us forge our alliances early. I'm not the only one with alliances. So yeah, it was just Susan, Neville and I, but Neville is also allied to Su Li and Susan is allied to Hannah Abbot and the Patil twins, Padma and Pavarti. Su Li is allied with house Greengrass so we invited Daphnee last week, as well as Morag, seeing as the Patils and the MacDougals are allied Houses as well. Honestly, you're the first one being invited in without being allied to anyone.” Harry was rather proud of the size of their group, and he could only hope that if Draco joined it would grow even more. 

“This is all rather impressive, though you're wrong on that last part. House Greengrass and House Malfoy are allied. Which is beside the point. What do you all even do every week?” Draco was rather curious as to how such a diverse group worked together. He had a hard time seeing MacDougal and Abbot seeing eye to eye on anything. 

“It's a study group Draco, what do you think we do?” The blonde flushed a little at the jab, before once more donning his mask. 

“I'll concede that that was a dumb question. What're we working on today then?” And with that, the group meeting officially began. It ran much smoother than Draco had thought it would. Apparently, when discussing proper wrist movement for charms, political agendas didn't really matter. Evidence of this was in the pairs that broke off as the group got down to business. Harry was helping Longbottom and the Gryffindor Patil girl with a Potions essay, the other Patil girl, MacDougal, and the two Hufflepuffs were working on what looked to be transfiguration, while the rest of the group was discussing the most recent essay for History of Magic. By the end of the afternoon, Draco found that he had finished all of his homework for the week so far, as had most of the rest of their group. It was as the studying wore down that Draco began to see the more Slytherin appeal to this arrangement. The group became much more social in the later hours of the study group, sharing information that would probably have not made its way out of its house had the group not existed. Inter-house gossip was not often heard in the rest of the school unless you were in a house notorious for eavesdropping, but even the best Slytherin couldn't overhear everything. 

“You know Harry, I overheard the most interesting thing yesterday.” Draco perked up at Longbottom’s statement, as did many of the others at the table. “Apparently Ron, Seamus, and Dean -my roommates you know? - were out after curfew the other day and found themselves in the third-floor corridor.” Now the whole table was listening. “Apparently Dumbledore wasn't joking about the whole ‘dying a terrible death’ thing. The three of them found a bloody Cerberus up there, and if I overheard Finnigan correctly, it's guarding something.” Now that was an interesting bit of information. 

“Why would the Headmaster be keeping something in Hogwarts? Wouldn't it be safer in Gringotts?” Su Li’s question sparked a debate on the topic. 

“Well maybe not.” Said Padma. “There was that break-in back in September, maybe after that Dumbledore thought it'd be safer to keep whatever he has up there at Hogwarts. If someone can break in once they could do it again.” 

Daphne snorted indignantly “Nothing was stolen from Gringotts, it's still safer than the school!” While she was right, Harry couldn't help but think that if it was broken into once, even if nothing was stolen, it could be broken into again, maybe with more success the second time, and he said so to the group. 

“I think you're both right. While it's true that Gringotts could be broken into again, that doesn't mean Hogwarts is any safer. You'd need more than a Cerberus to have better protection than Gringotts, they have dragons.” Hannah cut in, obviously trying to keep an actual argument from breaking out. How terribly Hufflepuff of her, Draco couldn't help but think. 

“Thank you, Hannah, that's a fair point, I apologize if I was harsh in stating my opinion, Daphne.” Harry dipped his head towards the Greengrass Heiress as he said this. “Though I am curious as to what-”

“Hate to cut you off Harry but we need to go down to dinner. This can be continued next time. See you all here after lunch Saturday.” Morag pulled her housemates up with her and they were the first out the door, soon followed by the remaining mixed group of Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, and Gryffindors. 

Draco wasn't sure how he had missed Harry entering the Great Hall every Wednesday evening surrounded by friends of all houses, but apparently this wasn't the first time it had happened, as very few heads turned to scrutinize the group of friends as they entered, nor when they gave friendly farewells as they parted. 

Dinner was business as usual, despite Draco's odd day, and the Slytherin boys soon found themselves back in their common room. The two of them were in front of one of the many fireplaces, sitting on a plush rug, a book open between them. 

Harry had asked Draco about Samhain and its traditions. The blonde was more than happy to explain them to his friend and even offered to do some of them with him if he wanted to. Harry had taken an immediate liking to the Ancestor Altars, wanting to pay homage to his parents' sacrifice. He also liked the idea of a bonfire, the idea behind it being that you write down things you want to leave behind you and then throw the papers into a fire. They could use one of the common room fireplaces easily enough. The final thing that Harry had been interested in was a little more difficult to pull off. Draco had always followed the tradition of going to his father for stories of his dead ancestors, but Harry had no one to go to. Draco had planned to go to his uncle Severus, his current feelings aside, he was still family, but Harry had no one. Wait, actually…

“Harry I have an idea, it might be a terrible one but it could work.” Harry turned hopeful emerald eyes towards Draco. “We know that my Uncle Sev went to Hogwarts with your father, now you obviously don't want to ask him for stories about your dad, but perhaps he knew your mom? He's never said anything bad about her before.” Draco scratched the back of his head in a very un-Malfoy-like gesture, before remembering where they were and falling back into decorum. Or as under decorum as you can be when sprawled on the floor. 

Harry looked contemplative for a few moments before answering. “The worst that can happen is he says no and takes the time to further tell me what a terrible person my dad was, not exactly anything new there. Sure, let's talk to him. We can go Saturday morning, that's November first, right?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, we can do any of the rituals during the feast on the 31st, that way no one can bother us. I doubt anyone will question you not wanting to celebrate the anniversary of your parents' death.”

+++

The morning of the 31st Harry woke with mixed feelings. On one hand, he would finally get some closure on his parents' death, on the other, this was the first year Harry knew the date of their death. He knew that they were dead most of his life, it was one of many things the Dursleys took pleasure in pointing out, but he had never had one day to remind it of him so heavily. He couldn't help but think of them that entire morning. What were they like? Was my dad really as terrible as Snape says he was? Would they be proud of me? What if Weasley had been right and they would have hated me for being in Slytherin? Draco's parents would have disowned him had he gone into Gryffindor… it was with this swirling mess of questions that Harry trudged out of bed. The atmosphere was much too cheerful for his liking, between the sugary seasonal foods at breakfast and the smiling floating pumpkins in the Great Hall, Harry was in a truly terrible mood by the first period. By lunch, he could have fried an egg with the strength of his glare. Apparently realizing the cause of Harry's foul mood, Draco stayed uncharacteristically quiet all day, showing his support by keeping in constant contact with his friend. Whether it be a hand on the shoulder, lower back or a grip on his wrist between classes, he was a silent supporter all day. 

Had Harry not been so gloomy, and been chatting with Draco between classes as he usually did, he would most likely have missed the exchange between Granger and Weasley. As it happened, he heard the whole thing. 

“What is it now Granger? First, you couldn't stop showing off and now you rarely raise your hand in class. What happened, realized that no one wants to be friends with an irritating know-it-all twit like you and decided to tone it down a bit? Too bad everyone already knows what a bloody nuisance you are, huh?” Weasley had cornered the poor girl on their way out of Transfiguration. Had Harry been in a better mood he would have probably left the situation alone and had Neville check in on the girl later, but today Harry was itching for an outlet for his ire. As he watched Hermione run off in tears, he couldn't help but turn on the cause of her humiliation. 

“What's the matter with you, Weasley? Afraid now that she's not answering every question it will become obvious as to how little you actually know? Or was there no reason for that other than making you feel powerful? Do you enjoy making girls cry, Weasley? And you call Slytherins slimy bastards, try looking in a mirror!” Harry was beyond pissed, he couldn't stand bullies, especially not hypocritical ones like Weasley. He took nothing but pleasure out of the way Ronald’s face flushed in anger at the accusations, knowing he had hit particularly close to home with his jibes. He was preparing a retort to what was sure to be a rather dull insult coming from the Gryffindor when the hand that had been a constant light pressure on his wrist became more vise-like as Draco pulled him away from the confrontation.

“Sorry Weasley I'm going to have to let Harry make a fool out of you another day, we are going to be late to Herbology if we don't leave now.” Harry could only grumble as he was pulled along by the larger boy, his anger melting back into his previously gloomy mood. It wasn't until he found himself on a familiar love seat in the Room of Requirement that he remembered they did not, in fact, have Herbology, but rather, a free period, due to the Halloween feast. 

“As entertaining as that was Harry, I somehow doubt you would have been very pleased with yourself had you landed yourself detention. What happened to your ‘kill them with civility’ policy?” Harry mumbled something under his breath in response. “Sorry mate, I don't speak mumble, try again in English?” Harry sighed, dropping his forehead to rest on Draco’s shoulder.

“I said I'm sorry for losing my temper.” He curled further into the couch before continuing. “I've been in a foul mood all day and Weasley was as good a target for it as any. Thanks for pulling me out of there before I got in trouble.” 

Draco wrapped an arm over his friend’s shoulders, enjoying the feeling of the smaller boy's warmth curled up against him. “Anytime Harry, that's what friends are for and all that.” They say like that for a little while, curled up together, Harry’s face tucked into Draco's shoulder and Draco staring into the fire. “You know Harry, we could do the rituals here. Even with the feast going on the common room might not be totally empty.” Harry hummed in agreement, too comfortable in that moment to do anything more. He had been so on edge all day, had he known all it would take to calm down was being held by Draco, he would have just hugged the boy that morning. Be honest with yourself for once Harry he chided himself had Draco not hugged you if his own violation you would have never dared ask. He harrumphed at his own inner dialogue well now I will, this feels nice, and I don't hear Draco complaining. 

“We ought to do this more often, I didn't realize hugs felt so nice.” Harry blushed and cringed away from Draco a little bit once he realized he had said that aloud. “Sorry didn’t mean to make you feel weird,” Harry muttered, no longer leaning on his friend. Draco just responded by blowing a raspberry and grabbing Harry around the shoulders once more.

“If I didn’t want to hug you I wouldn’t have. Now shut up and enjoy the moment.” If Draco’s cheeks were also pink, Harry couldn’t tell from where he was now once again sitting with his head against Draco’s shoulder. Draco himself had not been allowed the ‘childish necessity of hugs’ since he was a small child. It was unbecoming of a Malfoy to show weakness, but he didn't feel weak with Harry curled up on his side. No, he felt rather empowered actually, like he was protecting Harry from the world. In a way perhaps he was. 

After an indeterminate amount of time Harry stirred. “You know, I don't know what I can do besides light a candle for my parents, I don't have any photos or anything for the altar.” As he spoke a small table appeared with two lit candles. At least the room could provide that much. 

“We can look for some photos for next year, someone has to have some. We just need to figure out who to ask.” Harry seemed reassured by this and gave Draco a small smile before getting up to kneel by the candles.   

“Do you want to ask for some candles, Draco? Do you have someone you want to remember?” Draco shook his head. He had known very few people growing up, as most other pureblood children did, he had never lost anyone close to him. He hesitated in coming to kneel next to Harry, unsure if the boy wanted him with him. His question was quickly answered when Harry grabbed his wrist and pulled him down next to him. “That's fine, you can just join me here then.” Harry didn't let go of the hand he had grabbed to pull Draco down next to him, instead, he pulled their joined hands into his lap. The contact with Draco worked as an anchor for his emotions, which were once more fluctuating. 

Harry took a deep breath before looking at the candles in front of him and beginning to speak to his parents as he was supposed to. It was said that the veil was thinnest during Samhain, the candles acted as beacons for the dead, as did the personal effects you were supposed to put on the altar with the candles. Harry could only hope that he would act as a beacon enough for his parents to find him. “Hello, mum, dad… I feel kind of silly speaking to you like this, but I won't pretend to know if you can hear me or not. Magic is real for heaven's sake, anything is possible.” He took a shaky breath, and a reassuring squeeze from Draco's hand in his lap focused him once more. “I don't know how much you see from beyond the veil, so I'll talk to you like you haven't seen anything. I rather hope you haven't had to watch my life so far, it hasn't been particularly pleasant. I got put with your sister, mum after you and dad died. Dumbledore said she was fascinated by magic when you were kids, but I've only known her to hate it. They hated it so much that the fact that I had it made me a ‘dirty freak’ unworthy of their love. I won't go into details, it would take too long anyway. And it's unimportant now. I escaped, ran away to go to Hogwarts. Draco is the only one who knows the truth, everyone else thinks I grew up a pampered prince. One of my professors, Professor Snape, says I take after you, dad, in all the most terrible ways. Most of what he accuses me of if wrong, but I can't help but wonder how much of it was true for you. I hope you weren't a bully like he says you were, I've spent too much time being targeted by them to forgive that, but you also died protecting me, so I know you couldn't have been all bad. Aside from what Snape says I don't know anything about either of you. I've never even seen pictures. I know I have mom’s eyes, and apparently I look just like dad, but I don't know how accurate that is.” The candles had burned almost halfway down by this point, and the room had supplied pillows below their knees. “Despite all that I think I'm actually happy for the first time in my life… I've got friends in all the houses, we have a study group with all of our allied houses every Wednesday and Saturday. Oh! I didn't mention yet, I'm in Slytherin. I know you were both in Gryffindor, but I like to think you wouldn't have cared either way. I'm happy in Slytherin, and I’m in it with my best friend, Draco Malfoy. I know you guys and his parents were on different sides of the war so you probably have some animosity for the Malfoys, but Draco is really great. Like I said before, he’s the only person I've told about the Dursleys, and he’s been really great about them. He’s been helping me see that what they did doesn't make me weak or dirty. Rather that they are the.. the freaks, for treating me like they did. I feel normal around him, even if I don't yet fully believe that I am, but I'm getting there. I really wish I got to know you, but maybe it's better I didn't. It's easier to mourn the might-have-been than it would be to mourn actual people. I only have the idea of you to miss. Assuming you can actually hear this, I just needed to thank you, thank you for giving me my life for yours. Two months ago I would have cursed you for leaving me alive and alone, but now that I'm here, I'm starting to see how lucky I am to be alive. So thank you.” 

While he had been telling his parents about Draco, said boy had placed his other hand atop the three already in Harry's lap. Now he pulled them away to pull his small friend into his arms, unsurprised by the tears running down the grief-filled boy’s face. He ignored the growing wet spot on his shoulder as he rubbed Harry’s back, letting him mourn the life he could have had. The childhood he was deprived of. He didn't stay like that for long, instead, after a few moments, Harry took a deep steadying breath and pulled back from where he had tucked himself into Draco's neck.  

Draco lifted one hand and brushed away the tears staining Harry’s cheek. As close as they were he could see a smattering of freckles across Harry’s nose that he had not before noticed. He brushed dark shaggy hair out of still watery eyes before bringing his eyes to meet Harry's. “Thank you for trusting me, Harry. I hope you know that I feel safe around you too.” His eyes were practically burning in their intensity as they looked into Harry’s. When Harry closed his eyes, breaking eye contact, Draco pulled back, “Are you ready for the next ritual? This one should be less intense.” 

Harry smiled and opened his eyes. “Yeah, I'm ready. What’re you burning?” The emotion that had been swirling in Harry's eyes was overtaken by curiosity. 

“You'll just have to wait and see now won't you?” As they spoke the candles still burning on the table were replaced by two strips of paper, quills and a bottle of ink. They each took one and began writing. To Harry, it almost felt like he was physically unloading a weight as he wrote. ‘Worthless no good freak’ and ‘Boy’ on his piece of paper. He couldn't wait to see it burn. Looking over at Draco's paper he almost laughed when he saw the words ‘my father says’ scrawled across the parchment. Draco smirked at his friend's amusement. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you've been telling me lately. Wednesday really convinced me though, I really ought to start thinking for myself more.” It was with lighter hearts that the two boys watched the slips of paper go up in flames.

Chapter Text

The room provided a light meal for the two of them, enough to make up for missing the feast. They knew that they needed to get back to the common room before the end of the feast if they didn't want to get in trouble, so after a few more moments enjoying the privacy of what Harry had come to think of as their room, they headed out. 

They had made it to the second floor when they smelled it, something like body odor mixed with rubbish. They slowed to a halt when they heard it coming, whatever it was. Now thoroughly scared, they popped through the nearest door, slamming it closed behind them. They were suddenly met with another sound, this one much less sinister. the sound of weeping. Harry had a sinking feeling as to who was weeping in one of the stalls when the door they had slammed behind them was suddenly blasted open by a club. Pieces of the door flew past them, one of them catching Harry across the cheek, slicing it open right below his right eye, another lodging itself in his upper thigh. Draco received a similar gash across his left forearm, which began bleeding profusely. 

The two boys scrambled out of the way of the creature, which Draco identified for Harry with a shrill shout of “MOUNTAIN TROLL!” The weeping was soon screaming as a familiar bushy head peeked out of one of the stalls and bought a glimpse of the creature. It was only Harry's many years' experience in dodging blows that allowed him to realize where the cub would land next in time to save the small Gryffindor. 

“Hermione get over here!” Harry grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her over to stand between the boys only moments before the club came down and decimated the stalls he had just been inhabiting. Harry's head was spinning as he worked to find a way out. It was second nature, look for the route with the least chance of damage being done, and now he had magic on his side. “ Somnus!” Harry thanked all things holy that he had been reading ahead in DADA once he realized how useless Quirrell was as a Defense teacher. The blue light came out of his wand and struck the troll between the eyes. He feared for a moment that the spell wouldn't work, but then it began to sway and eventually fell backward with a loud thump against the bathroom floor. 

“Is it dead?” The question came from Hermione, who, much like Draco, was looking at Harry in awe. 

“What? No! It's just a sleeping spell made for magical creatures. It was a DADA book I read last week.” Hermione looked at him once more in awe. 

“I don't care how you learned it, I'm just happy we're alive!” Draco threw his arms around Harry in a quick, tight hug. “Thanks for the quick thinking.” The blonde looked a little affronted when Granger mirrored his actions by grabbing Harry in another hug as soon as Draco had let him go. Before he could voice a complaint however, they were joined in the bathroom by some of the teachers. 

“What happened here? Why are you three not in your common rooms? Did you not hear Dumbledore’s orders at the feast?” McGonagall looked at the felled troll with wide eyes. “Explain! Now!” Harry was apparently feeling brave and stepped forward to do just that.

“We weren't at the feast professor-”

He was cut off by Snape’s signature drawl. “Too good to eat with the rest of the school Potter?” Harry, for once, snapped back at his professor’s venomous words. 

“In case you forgot, professor, I became an orphan today ten years ago, so forgive me if I didn't feel like celebrating my parents' death.” Snape looked taken aback, as did the other professors present, who were all used to a quiet and demure Harry, very unlike the one in front of them now. “If I may continue, professor?” Snape nodded, though not without his usual sneer. “Draco and I partook in some Samhain rituals in remembrance of my parents and were on our way back to the common room when we heard, and smelled, the troll coming. Not wanting to confront it we ducked through the first door we came across, which just so happens to be the bathroom that Miss Granger was in. Based on the interaction I overheard between her and Weasley this afternoon, I would assume she was in here upset over that, do correct me if I'm wrong Granger.” He paused and looked over to Hermione who just shook her head and gestured for him to continue. “Anyway, we found Miss Granger in here just in time for the troll to break down the door, which did injure us, thanks for asking. The troll was about to smash Miss Granger here, luckily I grabbed her before the creature smashed the stalls there. Once the three of us were out of the way I rushed to think of a spell to down it. I remembered the Somnus spell from a DADA book I was reading last week and hit it with that. And here we are. May we go to the medical wing now? Or do you need to ask more questions while Draco is bleeding out?” McGonagall looked affronted by Harry's tone, but upon realizing that the two boys were actually quite injured, she held her tongue. 

“You are all lucky to be alive. Go on to the infirmary, we'll deal with the troll.” Harry went to take a step, only to stumble on his injured leg. Both Hermione and Draco quickly made their way to his side, offering support for the long walk there. With an arm slung over Hermione’s shoulder and Draco's good arm wrapped around his waist, they made their way quickly to the doorway. “Oh, and Mr. Potter?” Harry turned back towards the Gryffindor matron. “Twenty points to Slytherin for quick thinking.” 

+++

By the next morning, the whole troll incident seemed like some kind of bizarre dream. Only, the thin scar now adorning Harry's cheek was proof enough for that not to be the case. Madam Pomfrey had insisted that it would go away in a few weeks, but for now, it was a reminder of their little adventure. 

After breakfast, the two Slytherin boys made their way to Snape's office, determined to at least try and talk civilly with him. They once again went with the tactic of putting Draco in Snape’s direct line of sight through the doorway. Once again, Snape opened his door and greeted his Godson, though he must have been expecting Harry, as his face did not fall upon seeing him, rather, he had been scowling since he opened the door.

“What can I do for you Draco, Mr. Potter?” Despite his scowl, he let them into his office. Draco immediately made way for one of the couches, pulling Harry along with him. 

“It's the second day of Samhain Sev, you know why I'm here.” The smile Draco offered was a kind of olive branch. The boy knew he had not been acting as he usually did towards Severus, but in his defense, the potions master had deserved his ire. 

“I am aware of why you are here Draco, I am curious as to why you have invited Mr. Potter to what is usually a private affair.” To Draco's credit, he did not shy away from the scalding look sent his way. 

“I think it would be best if Harry asked, please let him talk, Sev?” With a sigh, Severus nodded in ascension. 

“Thank you sir.” Harry spoke once he had been given permission. “It's fairly simple really. I'm here for a similar reason as Draco. I know you went to school with my father, and no, before you interrupt me, I am not stupid enough to ask you about him. Rather, I figure, if you went to school with my father you must've gone to school with my mum too, and I just wanted to ask if you knew anything about her. Other than the fact that I have her eyes, no one has said anything to me about her, they only seem to talk about my dad.” Snape's scowl only darkened as Harry spoke, bringing some of the worst of his fears to light. “So you hated her as well then sir? Was she a stuck up, self-absorbed dunderhead like my father? Or maybe-”

“Do not speak of her like that you ignorant little whelp. Your mother was a better person than you could ever hope to be. She was nothing like your father, she was too good for the likes of him.” Seeming to realize he had said more than he intended, he stood up sharply. “Get out Potter, now.” As Harry scrambled to his feet, Draco close on his heels. “Draco stays, we have things to discuss.” Draco looked like he would argue until he saw his godfather’s face. Once he did he sat back down and could only watch as Harry made a hasty exit. 

+++

Harry's mind was reeling. Not only did Snape know his mother, but it also sounded like he had been friends with her. In fact, he sounded almost jealous of his father when saying how he did it deserve her. Could Snape have…? Harry needed to lie down and sort through all the new information swirling around his mind. He made his way quickly back to the dorms and shut himself behind his curtains in his bed before lying down and entering his mind Bunker. 

It was nearly lunch by the time he had sorted through both all the new information and the old. During that time he had come to one rather disturbing conclusion: Severus Snape had either a) fancied his mother, or b) had very strong platonic feelings for her. He wasn't sure what to do with the information yet, but he had it stashed away for a rainy day when he could figure out how to use it to his advantage. 

+++

After lunch the alliance study group, we really need a better name, was meeting up once more. Harry and Draco were not the last to arrive as they had been on Wednesday, but rather, they were one of the first. Only Padma and Su had arrived before them. They had just sat down when Harry spied a bush or brown curls tucked behind a large book a few tables over. Getting an idea, still irked at Weasley’s words from the day previous, he made his way over to Hermione Granger. 

“Sorry for interrupting.” Hermione looked up in surprise as Harry spoke. “I know you don't need the help, but we have a little study group together and I thought you might want to work with us?” Hermione’s smile was warm enough to have melted glass. 

“Yes please!” Harry chuckled as the Gryffindor bookworm practically skipped over to their study group. While having a group of allied purebloods was all well and good, there was a large enough population of half-bloods and muggle-borns that made inviting people like Granger into their group a good move strategically. It was like he had told Draco on the train, looking down on an entire subgroup of the community and only associating with those of your own social class is how revolutions grow under your nose with you none the wiser. Harry would be damned if that happened to him. It also didn't hurt that he liked Hermione, her bookish nature was a defensive measure that he understood only all too well. He was curious to see what lies below the wall of encyclopedic defenses. It took Draco to pull Harry’s down, he hoped to do the same for her.

Hermione was a more or less welcome addition to the group. Harry had expected to get the most resistance from Draco and Morag, which he did, though he had not expected Padma to agree with their sentiments. Apparently the Gryffindor Patil twin was similarly vexed with the muggleborn girl, if for different reasons. Lucky for Harry, the rest of the group agreed that they should at least let her join for a few days to see how she would get along with the group. By the end of the third study session, it was agreed by the entire group that Hermione would make a good addition to the group. It was one month, and nine study groups, later when the next bit of exciting gossip was shared between the gaggle of first years. With the addition of Hermione, there were now three Gryffindors in the tower that happily shared their house gossip. Following the interesting information about the Cerberus on the third floor, the three had been keeping their ears open for more gossip. They were not disappointed and eagerly shared the newest information with everyone. 

“- and then he said to Weasley, ‘how are we even supposed to find out who this Flamel guy is anyway? Is finding out what that bloody dog is guarding really worth spending time in the library?’ Now I knew they were lazy, but really?” Hermione scoffed as she finished relaying the conversation she had overheard. 

“Not only lazy, Granger, but apparently dull as well. What Pureblood hasn’t heard of the Sorcerer’s Stone? I could have you told you who Flamel was at the age of five.” Draco stuck his nose in the air in a well-recognized facade of aloofness, well recognized to his friends at least. 

Harry playfully shoved Draco’s shoulder in a way he would not have dared to only months prior. “We all agree with your opinion on Weasley Draco, no need to go full ‘Heir Malfoy’ on us.” Draco looked down at the comment, a light flush gracing his normally quite pale cheeks. The young Malfoy had been making a world of progress in his attempts to be his own person around his friends. And they were friends. While the group had begun as a collection of allied houses, after weeks of studying and generally hanging out together, they had forged friendships where there likely would never have been otherwise. Despite all Draco’s joking at the beginning, Hannah Abbot and Morag MacDougal had become fast friends, as had Neville Longbottom and Daphne Greengrass of all people. The group was now once again sat chatting at their usual tables. 

“You mean to tell me that the headmaster is guarding the Sorcerer's Stone in the school, with a bloody Cerberus and god knows what else? Not only that, but the door to get to the Cerberus was easy enough to get through that Weasley managed? That’s it, I’m owling my aunt.” Susan was having trouble comprehending why the headmaster would put the students in such danger. As she was speaking she shuffled through her bag for a piece of parchment and began to pen a letter to her Aunt, who just so happened to be the head of the DMLE. 

The group was disappointed when, by the week before Christmas break, Susan’s letter had yet to bear results. Susan assured the group that she would confront her Aunt about it over the break. 

+++

The weeks leading up to the holiday were some of very mixed feelings for Harry. On one hand, he was very excited to be spending the break away from his cupboard for the first time in his life. On the other, all of his friends were going home so he would be the only first-year Slytherin at the school for two weeks. Before he had met Draco this would not have been an issue. However, having met Draco, Harry was very rarely left alone unless he specifically asked to be, and since his confession to Draco about his home life, sometimes not even then. So it was with a heavy heart that Harry parted from his friends. Draco didn’t even bother hiding his discontent with Harry staying at the school alone. The rest of their study group expressed similar notions of malcontent as they hugged Harry goodbye on the front steps of the school before making their way to the horseless carriages. 

Before he knew it, Harry was alone in the Slytherin common room. He wasn’t actually alone of course, there were some upper-year students who had stayed behind as well -

Mostly fifth and seventh-year students who stayed behind to study for their upcoming OWLs and NEWTs - but to Harry that made little difference. So he sat, alone in the common room, curled up in one of the many chairs in front of one of the fireplaces which were raging as it attempted to stave off the cold that hung around the dungeons. A fifth-year, Jemma Farley, was the first to find him curled up with a book in his lap in front of the fire. It was not an uncommon position to find the little first year in, he could often be found in a similar position on weekends. It was the fact that Harry James Potter, the savior of the wizarding world, was alone two days before Christmas that had the Prefect near growling. 

One of the many jobs given to the Prefects was to watch over the first years as they settled in. An extra job their head of house gave them was to look for signs of mistreatment. It was an unfortunate fact that the House of Snakes was the most commonplace for abused children to end up. Jemma, alongside her co-Prefect, Edmund Spiers, had spent the first few weeks covertly watching the little group of eleven-year-olds. It was with a heavy heart that Jemma had started to take in little Harry’s mannerisms. He flinched when caught unawares, and always seemed incredibly uncomfortable with any human contact. Any contact until he got closer to Draco that was. It had made her quite happy to see the boy-savior being taken under young Malfoy’s wing. 

The reason for her current ire was the fact that, despite her many attempts to provide evidence otherwise, her House Head refused to believe that the Boy-Who-Lived was anything but a pampered prince back home. The fact that the boy had chosen to stay alone at the school rather than return was the most obvious proof of his abuse that she had witnessed yet. 

So there she was, stood at the entrance to the common room, practically frothing at the mouth. She made the quick decision to step back into her dorms and calm down before going back out to talk to the boy. If her head of house refused to help the boy himself, then she would, even if the only thing she could do is provide support. It took her almost ten minutes to compose herself well enough that she felt she could deal with the situation. She made her way over to his corner of the room and sat down in the chair adjacent to his own. Despite knowing that the other upper years that had stayed behind were probably already at breakfast, she cast a quick privacy ward around the two of them. It was her spell casting that finally jerked Harry’s attention away from his book. 

He had been rather content, reading a rather fascinating potions book he had purchased back in knockturn in August, but had yet to read until now. The material had been over his head at the beginning of the year, and even now he was struggling to follow the theory. He was rather disgruntled to find his concentration broken by the casting of what sounded to be a privacy ward. He couldn’t be entirely sure of course, he had never heard the spell before, but his Latin had gotten good enough for him to understand the general idea behind the spell. Learning Latin had been one of his best decisions to date, not only was it helping him in class, but it also benefited his extracurricular studies as well. Said studies often got him ribbed on by his fellow yearmates for secretly belonging in Ravenclaw, but upon pointing out that if he had, in fact, tricked the hat into placing him into Slytherin, he deserved to stay there for his cunning regardless of his love for books. His potions book, spelled to look like a much less illegal tome, was set aside as a Prefect he recognized as Jemma Farley sat across from him. 

He didn’t know the girl particularly well, though definitely better than most of the other fifth years. Mainly because of the fact that she was on the Slytherin Quidditch team with him. His tryout had been in early October, and after quickly winning not one, but three seekers matches against the current Slytherin seeker, he had been given the position. The first game wasn’t until after the break, but they had been practicing twice weekly after classes. So while she was technically a stranger to him, Harry did not startle upon seeing her as he may have with any of the other Prefects. He was curious as to why she felt the need to cast a privacy charm, but it never crossed his mind that what she had planned to talk to him about was his home life. 

Shuffling a little awkwardly in his chair, he turned to fully face the fifteen-year-old girl in front of him. “Well met Miss Farley. Can I help you with something?” Harry couldn’t help but bless whoever had come up with wizarding etiquette at that moment, as without it he would have been at a loss as to how he was supposed to act around the older girl. While she was his senior by four years, she was only a daughter of house Farley, while he was the Heir to multiple houses, so he knew not to bow to her with the greeting. Sadly for him, his plans for leaning back on societal rules were quickly demolished with Jemma’s response. 

“No need for formalities Potter, we’re teammates, yeah? And what I want to chat about is a little bit beyond formalities anyway.” She smiled kindly at the now floundering first year. “Also, feel free to call me Jemma. I’m sure I invited you to already at one of our practices, but if I overlooked it, you may do so now.”

Quickly collecting himself, Harry responded in kind. “In that case, you’re to call me Harry.” Upon her mention of the team, Harry perked up, assuming the upcoming conversation had something to do with their only shared interest. “Is something happening with the team? I haven’t heard anything from Flint recently.” Jemma only smiled at him, shaking her head. 

“No. Harry I came over here to ask you what you’re doing here for the break. Surely your family will be missing you for Christmas.” Had she not been expecting it, she probably would have missed the slight tensing in Harry’s shoulders and around his, now wary, green eyes. “It’s just rather unusual for first-years to stay behind is all, most of you tend to be homesick enough by Christmas that the very thought of staying behind seems like blasphemy.” She gave Harry what she hoped to be a reassuring look as she spoke, taking in the way he subtly repositioned himself to more readily flee if necessary. Honestly, how Professor Snape had missed this was beyond her, he was normally the first one to take note of situations like this. 

Harry felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. Of all the things that could have come out of her mouth, questions about the Dursleys was not one he had expected. He struggled momentarily to pull his swarming thoughts into order, before focusing once more on the Prefect in front of him. He rapidly considered his options. While he could probably successfully lie his way out of the situation, he almost didn’t want to. He knew that as an eleven-year-old, he was very poorly equipped to keep himself from being taken back to the Dursleys at the end of the year. While it was true that he could probably survive in the Knockturn inn he’d stayed in at the end of the previous summer, he was loath to do so when he knew he would be unable to do any magic to protect himself. He had, of course, considered the option of purchasing a second, untraced, wand from one of the shadier shops in the aforementioned alley, but he would rather keep his law-breaking to a minimum if he could help it. And so, Harry made a decision that he would later be thanking himself profusely for making, he decided to trust Jemma Farley. 

“How strong are your privacy wards Jemma, I would rather that this information not make it into the hands of those that might use it against me. I am making the hopefully not terrible decision to trust you.” Jemma blinked at him, obviously not expecting that response. After reminding herself that the fact that Harry was in Slytherin, and not Hufflepuff, it made sense that he was unlikely to be as cowed as many others in his position might be. He was used to ensuring his own survival, and apparently, her question had made her a new pathway for him to follow. 

“In complete honesty, unless someone specifically looks for a privacy ward set up, this corner of the room will go unnoticed until I take it down. I’d also like to assure you that you’re making the right decision in trusting me, I belong to a neutral house so I have no distaste for you as the Boy-Who-Lived, and on top of that, I take my job as a Prefect seriously, I only want to help.” Jemma watched as Harry nodded in response to her words, before looking over her shoulder with a slightly glazed look in his eyes. It was another thing about the boy she had taken note of, as far as she could tell, he was a practiced Occlumens, often slipping into his mind to rearrange his thoughts before providing a response to whatever question was asked of him. On top of that the boy appeared to have a near eidetic memory, having quoted paragraphs from quidditch strategy books to the team. By the time he had come back to the conversation at hand, his little trip into his mind taking no more than fifteen seconds, he had a determined look in his eyes and a rather stubborn set to his jaw. 

“If I can help it Jemma, I never plan on returning to my relatives' home. They are the absolute worst kind of people.” Jemma did not miss the fact that they were his ‘relatives’ and not his ‘family’. If her assumptions were correct, Harry had not had one of those in a very long time. Harry took a deep measured breath before continuing. “They were abusive in almost every sense of the word. Luckily not the final extreme of sexual assault.” 

It was rather unnerving to hear Harry talk on the subject with little to no inflection or emotion in his voice, she imagined it was the only way for the raven-haired boy to recount his childhood without breaking down, and as he got more detailed with his accounts, she couldn’t blame him. Upon explaining his jobs around the Dursley home, he pulled up one of his sleeves to show the grease burn scars, other smaller, yet no less alarming marks surrounded the smooth puckered flesh. Some were obviously made by knives, others from what he revealed to be a belt buckle. While he did not remove his shirt, she could only imagine the state of his back if his left arm alone looked this bad. It was mid-morning before he finished talking, and he was proud to say he managed to stay detached from the emotional side of the situation the entire time. He and Jemma parted ways with assurances from the other girl that she would do what she could to help him. She was determined to get Snape on their side, even if the idea did make Harry quite wary, but the Head of House was the usual channel for these situations to go through, so he was their best bet. Jemma was certain she could get Professor Snape to see past Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived and on to Harry Potter, abused eleven-year-old boy. Harry himself was skeptical but allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of having someone else on his side for once. Sadly, Harry knew the truth about adults, that they had no care for Harry, regardless of his status in the world. Only time would tell how this situation would go to hell, it always did.