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Chapter Text

Harry Potter was morosely shuffling around the castle, well hidden under his father’s Invisibility Cloak and much too close to curfew. The habit wasn’t new to him: he had picked it up the year before, when half the school thought him the Heir of Slytherin and gossiped about him too loudly or tried to hex him in the corridor. No one had accused him of being a mass-murderer with a penchant for extreme gestures like ominous painted phrases this year. Yet. he had hoped the rumour mill would live him alone this year, but between fainting because of Dementors on the train and the usual The-Boy-Who-Lived thing he was always followed by whispers.

He didn’t love attention. He surely wasn’t opposed to people cheering on him when he won Quidditch matches, but all that incessant talking about him… he couldn’t stand it. Hence his morose walks after dinner.

That particular day, a chilly September Thursday, he was even more prickly and grouchy than usual. The day couldn’t have started worse, with double Potions with the Slytherins still imitating him fainting left and right and that git Malfoy going on and on and on about his poor arm. Snape of course had only sneered at him and looked at his potion as if it were a pile of hippogriff dung. Transfiguration had gone moderately well, and History of Magic had been perfect for a nap as usual, but the day had only worsened after that. The next lesson had been the new source of Harry’s desperation and frustration, and it looked like it couldn’t get even a tiny bit better. Divination. Why he’d decided to take this elective -because it looked like he could pass without studying and could always drop it after OWLS- he didn’t know. Really. Why.

Professor Trelawney had gone around looking at their teacups with crazy huge eyes as usual, but her predictions of Harry’s imminent and truculent death were double what they had been the lessons before. He’d been told he’d die alone, then with his loved ones around him, and again that he’d die very very young but also at an old age. She apparently saw him dead by wand and sword -and really couldn’t he just launch himself from the Astronomy Tower at this point and end this madness?- and when she’d repeated twice that the cause of his untimely death would be Basilisk venom he’d just stopped listening to her altogether. He didn’t know why he even tried to, after all. Ron had later added death by arson to the list. An ever-growing list. And the basilisk hadn’t killed him, thank you very much.

He hadn’t had a pause for breathing after that: Ron trying to laugh about the whole thing, not quite understanding he couldn’t quite look at it as a joke -yes, the professor was a joke, but he’d already almost-died innumerable times in his quite short, thirteen-years-old life-, Hermione had started one of her rants about how it was all unacceptable and the whole subject was useless etcetera, which had started a debate with Lavender and Parvati. Then after dinner, a small joy in the dark pit the day had become, Wood had ambushed him with strategies and trainings and whatnot, and he’d had to make a hasty excuse about an upset stomach to finally flee.

Not to mention the whole Sirius Black business, which was always irking on his mind. Having a mad serial killer after you is not an affair to be brushed off with little thought. And the horde of Dementors parked outside the school didn’t help at all.

And so, after a whole tiring day, he had hugged Ron and Hermione goodnight -it was a strange new experience, the daily hugging, born after almost-dying the year before, and whilst Hermione clearly loved and Harry himself didn’t mind it at all Ron was still a bit sceptical about it- and they had made enough of a ruckus in the common room for him to slip out unseen and unheard. Harry loved them for how they always knew when he needed space. They almost never pressured him to talk and comforted him with their steady presence and support. Having friends was really amazing, and he had realized after another summer without them that they were on the way to being more than just friends or best friends. For him at least. They were becoming his family, and he didn’t have a damn bad thing to say about it.

He was now walking aimlessly on the second floor, trying to stay as far as he could from Myrtle’s bathroom and what it entailed. The long corridors where empty and silent, people probably having already gone back to their dormitories and professors not having started their rounds yet. Even the portraits where mostly silent and asleep, safe for some snoring or some other gossiping away -but the gossipers mostly resided in the upper floors, not quite no near the dungeons. Outside the tall glass windows the world had already gone dark with dusk: not that pitch black of night, but the sun had gone down behind the mountains on the horizon already so that the darkening sky was lighter where its last rays shined. A pale quarter of the Moon started to show, and a few twinkling stars as well. The castle was still light, but not so much in the patches where only portraits covered the walls and no windows opened to the outside. Little flickering candle flames illuminated the corners and little recesses on the walls that had no pattern whatsoever.

The cloak was a comforting weight on his head and shoulders, but nobody was there and it wasn’t curfew yet, and he had half a mind to take it off and freely wander for a bit before going back to Gryffindor Tower. It was just as Harry had started trying to take the cloak off while simultaneously walking and trying not to trip over it that he hard it. It wasn’t unusual at all to hear strange sounds inside of Hogwarts: between the ghosts, the portraits and Mrs Norris sounds of every kind always filled the halls. But this didn’t sound like the darned cat, or one of the ghosts, and certainly not like Peeves. Harry moved a bit, cloak again securely covering all his figure, and tried to listen closely to that strange muted sound. It was a mixture of sniffing and hiccups, and the closer he got to it the more certain he was that someone was crying. Harry’s first thought went to Moaning Myrtle, but her cries where ear-splitting wails, not soft and quiet. And her bathroom was on the opposite side of the floor.

He walked until he reached the door of an empty classroom. He was sure the crying came from there. I should just leave, he thought. He always got in trouble when he heeded his curiosity. But someone was crying behind that door, maybe they were hurt. The Gryffindor chivalry and his need to help others however he could roared inside of him. He glanced at the nearest window: the sky was darkening fast, and he knew it was almost time for curfew. He would miss it if he didn’t go back to the Tower immediately… just a peek. He would check what was happening there and then go.

Already berating himself for his incapability to leave matters alone, he tried the door handle. It was locked shut. It should have been enough a deterrent for him to turn on his heels and leave, but he wasn’t Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Always-Got-Himself-Stuck-In-Situations, for nothing. He whipped out his wand and cast Ahalomora as silently as he could. The lock clicked, but instead of ending the wand movement with a little flick upward he angled the wand toward himself, slowly. The door opened silently a few inches, just enough for him to spy inside. He had found out that trick randomly, when still high on the notion he was back at Hogwarts and could do all the magic he wanted he had used the charm to open the bathroom stall door. He had botched the wand movements accidentally in his enthusiast and had found out he could use it to open the door and not only the lock. Really useful accident, that. He had then started trying to modify the wand movements of other spells, and had discovered many other interesting things, but it wasn’t something he should think about right now.

Harry shook himself out of the stream of thoughts he always fell in when performing one of his changed charms and flattened himself near the wall so that his eyes could clearly see inside of the room. He hadn’t prepared himself for what he would find inside, but surely it wouldn’t have been this. A little girl was sitting on the dusty floor, hugging her legs with one arm while the other hand was scrubbing furiously at her eyes. A glint of green caught his eyes when she shuffled on the stone floor a bit. A Slytherin! The rational part of his mind screamed at him to leave, just leave! She was a snake, nothing good ever came from interacting with them. He was still in time for curfew, he just. Had. To. Leave. Nothing difficult, no? But of course his rational side never won. He studied the little snakelet more attentively: she was small, and he didn’t remember ever seeing her before. A first year? What was a little first year snake doing crying in a classroom so late in the evening? She was short and a bit chubby, with dark ruffled wavy hair down past her shoulders and a wispy fringe in disarray. Really looking at her she reminded Harry more of a cute round-cheeked hamster than a snake.

He couldn’t leave a child crying by herself like that. And she should really be back in her common room. He shed the Invisibility Cloak and put it in his pocket, then opens the door wider. The snakelet didn’t notice. He cleared his throat. The girl’s gaze snapped toward the door, and her dark eyes red and watery. She jumped up, wand in hand, looking ready to hex him and scared as hell at the same time.  

“Hi”

Thinking back on it, maybe it wasn’t the best way to start a conversation in that particular situation. After all, Harry had never been amazing at the whole socializing with tact thing. Or just the socializing, really. Awkward as it was, it somewhat relaxed the little Slytherin’s stance, even if she still glared at him -not really effectively, considering Harry couldn’t stop comparing her with a hamster- and didn’t lower her wand.

“What do you want? What are you doing here?” she said, voice scratchy for crying but not wavering. He raised his hands, palms open towards the girl, the common gesture of those who wanted to come across as non-threatening. His wand was back into his back pocket, out of sight.

“I heard crying and went to see what was happening. I didn’t know you were here. Honest. What were…”

“You heard me? How? How did you open the door?” she interrupted, jaw slack and eyes huge.

“Well… yes?” Harry answered, confused. Shouldn’t he have? “Shouldn’t I have?”

To his terror, the girl’s lips quivered. He hoped she didn’t cry. He really hoped she didn’t cry. What would he do then? He didn’t know how to act with crying little girls! He should have just gone back to the Tower…

“They… they said nobody would hear me! They told me I’d be stuck all night and all day until they decided to let me out!” she screamed pained. It was quite a big amount of information for a snake. But she was only a first year and… wait. Stuck all night? What? The words ringed familiar in the Gryffindor’s head. It sounded like something Dudley and his gang of bullies -or uncle Vernon- could have said. Did that mean someone had shut her in here? Was that the reason she was crying so late in a locked room? Images of his cupboard and bars on the windows and lock upon lock at the door flashed behind his eyes, but he shook them out quickly.

“What happened? Did someone lock you in? Is that why you were crying? Are you okay?”

She cringed back, shoulders raised almost to her ears, distrust clear in her posture and on her face.

“Why should I answer? What do you gain from this? What… what are you scheming? You… go away! Just leave me be!”

Typical Slytherin, thought Harry. Always sure everyone had ulterior motives. And he didn’t! Was it so hard even for a firstie snakelet to think he would want to help without other plans? Maybe evil plans of hexing them or something similar. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want anything from you. Really, you are eleven, what even could I get from you? And I’m not about to torment you, you know? I’m not some… some bully. I was walking in the corridor and heard you, I was curious and checked and I didn’t -and still don’t- think you should be leaved alone right now. It’s clear you’ve been crying for a long time and you your answer actually told me someone did lock you in. Who was it? Why?” he ended his rant and crossed his arms, determined not to move until he got an answer. Then he would hug her -he knew how important hugs were, it was a must in distressing situations- and give her snacks and bring her to Snape. He hated the git, but he was her Head of House and would find a suitable punishment for whoever had bullied her. He couldn’t stand bullies.

She didn’t budge, the only hint of hesitation the slight waver of her wand and a tremble that was taking over her hands and lips.

“I just want to help” he pleaded.

“Why?”

“Why what?” he asked, not understanding why she sounded so shocked and at the same time mistrusting, with a hint of hope laced deep in her tone. He could detect things like that, he thought he probably sounded like that too, sometimes.

“Why help?” she shouted, exasperated.

“Why not? You’re in distress and someone locked you in a room, of course I’d want to help!”

“But… but you’re Harry Potter!” she blurted flabbergasted. Her eyes were even rounder.

“Yes, that’s my name. What does it have to do with this?”

 “You’re a Gryffindor!”

“Yeah… so?”

“YOU HATE SLYTHERINS!” she screamed at him, fists closed and redness creeping on her cheeks.

Ah. That was the problem. Harry sighed, a headache building behind his eyes. He hated Slytherins, didn’t he? If he thought about it, it sure looked like so. But really, did he hate them? All Slytherins? He didn’t really like some of the things the House entailed, and everyone had always told him dark wizards were mostly Slytherins, but… but it wasn’t like all and every Slytherin was evil. It wasn’t a realization of the moment. He had realized the year before, when there were snakes scared of the Chamber going around in groups, and again this year when Malfoy had skipped some lessons because of his arm. Without him impersonating the worst kind of Slytherin, the others from his year -except Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle who really were horrendous people- were quite… normal. Harry didn’t like their views, their racism and some of their behaviours, but he knew not everyone in a House was the same. Not all Gryffindors were like him. And besides, the little girl in front of him was just that: a little girl. Maybe her parents had been Voldemort’s followers, maybe they all hated muggleborns, who knew. Still, she was an eleven-years-old who looked like a hamster and had been bullied quite severely.

He smiled at the snakelet and softly stated, his tone sure and certain: “I don’t hate Slytherins. I hate Malfoy and I hate some of the views shared by your House, but you’re just a first year and I don’t know if you’re a bad person or not. I just know that someone bullied you and locked you in a classroom with the thought of leaving you alone all night and that you are a little girl who needs food and help. Let me help you.”

Her shoulders and arms dropped, and for an instant Harry feared she’d fall on the floor. Something even worse happen instead: she sniffed, and her eyes grew watery again, sobs and tears shaking her figure, and she looked away from Harry.

“I d-don’t believe you. You…you’ll change i-idea!” she sobbed. Seeing her so distraught again, Harry panicked. He left the threshold and entered the room fully, walking closer to the little girl whilst trying not to crowd her. He didn’t know what to do. If it were Hermione, he’d just hug her and let her cry. He’d have to try to understand what was upsetting her.

“Why do you think I’d change idea?” he asked her softly, and when she shook her head and didn’t answer he continued: “I promise I will still help you no matter what. Gryffindor’s promise. I swear”

This seemed to finally convince her, and after a little bit more of coaxing and reassuring her she finally gave in. She blew her nose on a green handkerchief -how fitting- and tentatively spoke.

“I… i-it was… it was two G-Gryffindors who locked me in…”

She looked up at him, the uncertainty clear in her eyes, and then back down again, drawing herself closer into herself after seeing whatever expression was etched on Harry’s face.

“Gryffindors? Are you sure?”

She nodded. Harry could feel anger bubbling inside his chest, a furious lion roaring at the thought of his housemates bullying someone. They were no better than bloody Malfoy or some of the worst Slytherins! What bravery and chivalry! Bullying a first year with no means to defend herself!

“What happened? Tell me everything, every little thing, okay?” he asked, cold, his fury barely kept underneath his skin.

The girl sniffed some more and gulped, then started talking, voice soft and trembling.

“I… the P-prefects told us not to go around alone, but… but I thought nothing would happen, I just needed to go get my bag from the Transfiguration classroom! And then I got lost and didn’t remember the way to the dungeons, and… a-and I ended up here and I h-heard voices from this room and I thought… I thought I c-could, I could ask for help! And there were those two Gryffindors, a-and I think t-they are fo-fourth years… McLaggen, I-I think… and I wanted to run away but they saw me and they brought me into the classroom and they started to… to tell me… t-tell me I was u-ugly and b-bad and stupid and I wanted to g-go away! But then McLaggen hexed m-me and locked my legs and they t-told me I-I deserved to be p-p-punished for being a… a disgusting snake and they said they’d lock me in so I could re-reflect and they’d maybe leave me out tomorrow if I was g-good!”

She stopped talking and her crying grew sharper and stronger, the shock of the day and the humiliation and fear of the bullying making her shake like a leaf, her small figure hunched on itself.

Harry’s anger couldn’t be contained anymore, and he turned sharply away from the snakelet. The first thing that he saw, a chair, suffered from his temper, and he kicked it on the floor with all his strength. The throbbing pain in his foot calmed him down a bit.

“Oh, I’ll have words with them. I’ll have some words. And then I’ll hex them both so bad they’ll see stars for the next month. And just them wait until McGonagall hears about it, I’ll have them in so much trouble they’ll think twice before doing something like this again, the bloody id…”

A strangled noise interrupted his rant, his planes for revenge coming to a halt.

“What?”

“What?”

The Slytherin girl looked absolutely gobsmacked. She had stopped crying and was staring at him as if his he had a hippogriff head. He looked back straight at her, not understanding what had shocked her so.

“You… you’ll hex them? And tell on them to McGonagall? Why? They are Gryffindors! Like you! Shouldn’t you agree with them? Or at least not do anything?”

“What? NO. No. It’s bullying, I don’t care who does it! It’s even worse that it’s Gryffindors! They should be punished and what they did to you was wrong. Totally, completely WRONG. You don’t have to believe anything they said! And I won’t just leave and leave you here without helping! If you didn’t know the way back before I doubt you’ll know it now” he stated, not leaving room for doubt “So I’ll escort you to the dungeons” and then added, even if it pained him to do so: “and I’ll bring you to… Professor Snape’s rooms, we’ll tell him what happened and let him know the culprits so that he can deliver the appropriate punishment. And he might want to check on you as well. Now. What’s your name? You know mine already, but just in case: nice to meet you, I’m Harry Potter.”

She looked even more shocked, and he was almost starting to worry for her state of mind, or for his face -did he have something strange on his face? He discreetly rubbed his cheeks and nose. Maybe he had ink on his skin.

“But… Don’t you hate Professor Snape? Doesn’t he hate you?”

Ooh! That was the strange thing. Well, to be honest, he wouldn’t be caught dead talking -or just sharing space, really- with Snape any more than he already had to, but in this case… it was the right thing to do. And the best one. Everyone knew Snape was a massive git but doted on his snakes at every turn. They’d both have to tolerate each other’s presence.

“He is your Head of House” he said, putting an end to the discussion. “Now, your name? I can’t go on calling you little snakelet in my head, and I really can’t do that to your face, can I?”

This startled a huffing laugh out of her, and she tried to school her face in a semblance of haughtiness and superiority. The effect was somewhat ruined by her stark resemblance to a hamster, in Harry’s humble opinion, but he didn’t tell her.

“I’m Vivian Bulstrode.”

“Nice to meet you. Millicent Bulstrode’s sister? You don’t look a lot like her, I couldn’t have said. Now come on, let’s go before it gets too dark.”

He gently took her hand, and she startled a bit but didn’t shake him off. He guided her outside the class and down the darkening corridors.

“Really? Everyone says we look really similar. They say it’s because we are both fat” she spit the word with disgust, probably with the intention of seeming disgusted by whoever said that, but truly. Harry was a Gryffindor, but the Sorting Hat hadn’t almost put him into Slytherin for nothing. He had a way of knowing certain things.

He snorted.

“Well, you do have similar constitutions, but that’s it, really. And come on, fat? You could say a bit chubby, but fat is another thing! You should see my cousin: he looks like a whale had a child with a blonde walrus. All my uncle and aunt’s fault, that. They’ve always stuffed him so full with food and sweets it’s a miracle he hasn’t turned into one of those American turkeys”

At this, Vivian started to laugh so hard she became breathless, little snorts interrupting her fit and cementing her hamster look. It was probably another outlet for the traumatic experience of the day, and indeed just as Harry had thought she her laughter suddenly turned into loud and unfiltered crying. Poor girl, she’d cried way too much that day. Harry rested one hand on her shoulder, and when he saw that she didn’t move or ask him to stop, he gathered the girl in his arms and finally gave her the hug he’d wanted to ever since he’d found her crying. Vivian froze for a few seconds, then her arms snaked around Harry and she clung to him, waterworks still going on. Harry did not really know what to do -and he was still quite panicky from the sole idea of having to comfort someone he didn’t know very well. would she like just the hug? Should he squeeze her closer like Ginny liked when she thought of the Chamber? Awkwardly pull away with a joke like with Ron? At the end he decided to just go for what felt more neutral. Hermione liked having her hair played with. A lot of people apparently did. He started petting Vivian’s head, and when the snakelet melted under his touch he tried to rake his hands through her dark locks. They were so soft.

He kept this up until she stopped crying and left the hug on her own terms, then took her hand again and stated walking. It was dark now, probably closer to midnight than he would have liked, and this part of the castle wasn’t well lit with candles. He cast Lumos and sent a little ball of light ahead of them, another cool trick he had found out.

Vivian looked at him with wonder, and he smirked. When she asked him to teach her, he smiled mysteriously and professed it was a secret.

“I’ll teach another thing. It’s a spell to open locked doors. The spell is Alohomora, and you twist your wand like a key then flick it upwards.”

He had her try it out a few times on a nearby door, and when she finally got it twice in a row she smiled at him for the first time since they’d met. Her front teeth had a small gap in the middle, and the smile rounded her cheeks even more. Harry hardly resisted the sudden urge to pinch them like aunt Marge always did with Dudley.

Thinking of Dudley… Right! How had he forgotten! Food! He didn’t have water for her, and she probably was a bit dehydrated with all that crying, but he should have… yes! Found it! Harry took a crumpled paper towel out of his robe pocket and thrusted it at Vivian. She looked at him with a clear question in her eyes.

“It’s treacle tart. I forgot I wanted to give you something to eat, since you’ve skipped dinner. It’s a bit crumbled, I think, but it’s from today. I swear it’s edible” he told her with an easy smile. She lighted up and her stomach grumbled, perfectly agreeing with the thought of food. She opened the towel and launched herself on the food.

“Issh my fav’rit” she mumbled with her mouth so full crumbs fell from her lips when she talked. A hamster studding its cheeks. Just too cute. Harry snorted. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a Slytherin that wasn’t Crabbe or Goyle eating anything less than classily.

They were almost there, just one more flight of stairs and a few corridors and they’d get to Snape’s office. They’d been lucky nobody had found them, and if Harry had his way nobody would. They proceeded in companiable silence, steadily moving through Hogwarts. Vivian had finished her treacle tart and was already looking a bit better, and she kept following Harry without ever questioning him and where he was bringing her. Harry was alert, ears ready to grasp sounds that could get the caught, but it looked like Hogwarts was helping them that night.

“Harry” Vivian broke the silence shily “you are different than what they told me about you.”

Harry just hummed, eyes briefly glancing at the snakelet at his left. She was red on her cheeks and biting her lip and cheeks.

“It’s just… you’re really nice. And you don’t hate all Slytherins, I guess, and you’re pretty good at magic. Draco always tells everyone you’re no good and just copy everything from your mudblood frie-“

“Vivian.” Harry stopped her coldly. He turned and set a glare as cold as he could on her. “I may be nice, but I don’t like people calling my best friend racial slurs. She’s the best witch of her age and she’s nothing more or less than a pureblood witch or wizard. And my mum was muggleborn as well, so you should really keep those thoughts to yourself.”

“I… what are racial slurs?”

She looked convincingly ignorant about that. It should be, one of the most racist societies he knew not knowing what racism was. He sighed, annoyed by the direction their interaction had gone towards, but collected himself and his righteous indignation for ‘Mione’s sake and prepared himself for a lesson in equality. He should be happy, he thought, he had the chance to explain why her behaviour and ideas were wrong to someone grown with racism -was maybe blood purism a better word? Well, it was mostly the same. Maybe he’d convert her. He doubted it, but one never knew. The little Slytherin looked sweet and nice enough. He unconsciously rubbed his left hand knuckles with his thumb, a reminder of his own walnut skin, stained lighter on his hands because of all the bleach aunt Petunia had him use during his chores.

“Racial slurs are words, insults really, that discriminate someone because of who they are. It’s something pretty frequent in the Muggle world, and basically the Wizarding word has the same thing but for the whole blood purity stuff. Only in the Muggle world people are discriminated because of their skin colour, how white they are. It’s like white people are purebloods and brown people are… I don’t know, muggleborns, muggles, squibs, you say it. Do you think it’s right, to think someone is lesser, unworthy, almost a beast just because their skin is darker? Once upon a time dark skinned people were even used as slaves, and they were thought to be object, not people, not even animals sometimes. And even now slavery is long gone there are people killed because of their skin or their hair. People like me, like… like Zabini -yes, him-, we would get beaten, insulted, maybe killed. Do you think it’s right?”

Vivian looks slightly like she could be sick. In the Wizarding world it’s normal to see people of all colours going around, it’s nothing strange and there is no discrimination in that regard.

“NO! No, I… of course not! It’s Muggles’ fault! Of course they think like this! They’re uncivilized, not like us… right?”

Harry sighed. He shook his head, the conversation slowly draining him. An to think he still had to see Snape, and they were almost there…

“Muggles are just as civilised as wizards, maybe even more so for some things. You know in most Countries racism is illegal? Yet, here in the more civilised Wizarding world, blood purism and calling people slurs is completely fine. And don’t start! I know what you’re thinking! Something like the Muggles stole magic, or they are not as good with it, or they are inferior or some stupid hit like that! It’s not true. It’s NOT. And it’s the same thought process of those who think dark skin is bad. Do you think I’m lesser than you just because my skin is not white?”

The Slytherin was pasty white, eyes big and mouth twitching. She shook her head, dark hair flying around. She started, inhaling sharply as if to start speaking, then shut her mouth, eyes downcast. She shook her head no again, looking troubled. Her head was probably swarming with thoughts, Harry’s words clashing with what she’d been told all her life. Harry sighed, he didn’t want to shock her so much. He squeezed her hand and smiled down at her. “Don’t worry too much about it now. Look, if I remember right Snape’s office is right at the end of this corridor. You can reflect on what I’ve told you after a good night of sleep, all right? I don’t hate you or blame you or anything, hm? You’ve been told those things all your life, of course you’ll repeat them. Now why don’t you give me a big smile?” Harry tried to diffuse the tension and raise his little snakelet’s mood again “We don’t want Snape to think I’ve tortured you now, do we? If I’m lucky he’ll give me detention anyway, if not I fear to know. Do you think he will make me into Potions ingredients?”

Luckily, his jests worked, and Vivian looked way less sober, a smile now playing on her lips. “I don’t know… I think The-Boy-Who-Lived’s liver would be a very good ingredient. Highest quality”

The two started laughing. Vivian couldn’t stop, she was hugging her stomach bent in half, stumbling onward. Harry wasn’t much better, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes and cheeks hurting like crazy from all the smiling. He sobered when he stopped in front of a huge golden frame, a dark picture of a smoking cauldron the only thing in the portrait. He nudged his companion and motioned to the portrait. “It’s Snape’s.”

She stopped laughing as well. She started trying to neaten up her hair, running her hands through it, but Harry could see it was a way not to express her anxiety. She was chewing her lower lip, eyes worried again. At least Snape wouldn’t actually say anything to her for being out after curfew, it wasn’t her fault. And she was one of his precious Slytherins. Harry almost hoped he’d just gone back to his common room, but the thought disappeared as soon as it had appeared. He was doing what was right. If Snape insulted him and punished him for this he would just take it. He had helped Vivian, that was what counted. Not Snape’s hatred of him. The Gryffindor called up on his courage, squared his shoulders and knocked.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

A few moments of silence. Harry vanished his little light ball. The corridor was eerily silent, only the soft light of a few candles casting shadows in the dungeons. Vivian shifted on her feet. She took her hand from Harry’s hold, then grasped it again, tighter still.

From behind the frame, the soft sounds of steps on stone alerted the two students. The portrait opened. Professor Snape looked like he had just stopped brewing: black oily hair hanging limply around his face, lips downturned under his hooked nose, black robes pristine and billowing behind him. His eyebrows were furrowed, cold black eyes that became even colder when they landed on Harry looking at them like they were beetles underneath his shoes.

“Mr Potter” he drawled, sharp gaze taking him the two students’ figures “What are you doing here after curfew with Miss Bulstrode? And Miss Bulstrode, I know Mr Potter here doesn’t understand the English language and the concept of curfew, but I thought at least my first years would know better. I expect a clear explanation on what exactly is happening here.”

Harry had to grit his teeth and bite his tongue to keep from lashing at the odious professor, and just when he thought he’d calmed down enough to attempt explaining Vivian rushed to answer her Head of House, voice strong and steady even if her hand was sweaty and trembling. “It was all my fault, Professor! Harry helped me, he is out after curfew because of me!” she said, then stopped speaking. It was clear she had other things to say, and it was just as clear that she didn’t know how to, and that she was still embarrassed from what had happened to her and didn’t want to talk about it.

“Explain” demanded again Snape, and Harry took it on himself to summarise what had transpired that evening.

“I was taking a walk around the second floor…”

“And why, pray tell, where you… taking a walk after curfew, Mr Potter?” the man interrupted, disdain clear on his face. Harry used all his self-control not to snarl at him and continued his tale through gritted teeth. If he interrupted him again just to… he didn’t think he could resist talking civilly to Snape if he went on being a git.

“I wasn’t out after curfew, sir. I had every intention to go back to the Tower before it started, but as I was saying, while I was walking around the second floor I heard someone crying. I went to see” -Snape rolled his eyes, obviously murmured under his breath, but Harry didn’t let it interrupt him- “and I found a locked door. I opened it and there was Vivian, she was crying on the floor and I wanted to help. She didn’t trust me much at first so we lost some time talking, we probably would have gotten here a lot sooner… anyway. I managed somehow to get her to stop crying and she told me that this afternoon two fellow Gryffindors of mine had made fun of her, jinxed her and locked in the room without the intention of letting her out before breakfast tomorrow and…”

“WHAT?” Snape’s voice was glacier cold, anger bleeding through it and filling the space around him. His posture was stiffer than usual, hands fisted at his sides, eyes flashing dangerously. “Is that true, Ms Vivian?” His tone was way softer when he talked to the small girl, almost comforting. Vivian nodded, eyes filled with unspilled tears again, but didn’t seem to want to talk.

“It was McLaggen and another boy, she couldn’t identify him” added Harry “I’ll make sure to tell McGonagall tomorrow, so she can punish them accordingly. Anyway, Vivian didn’t know the way to the dungeons so I took her, and she has to eat and drink. I gave her treacle tart, but she hasn’t had anything since lunch and she cried so much she’s probably dehydrated. Now, sir, I… I will just… go back… to the Tower. Yes, well, goodnight?”

“Very well, Potter. I imagine you know your way to the Gryffindor common room” Snape spit “I will forget you have been going around the school at night. Alone. With Black on the loose. But just this once. Miss Bulstrode, come in” he concludes, voice much softer than when talking to Harry. The boy cringed when Black was mentioned. He briefly hugged Vivian and murmured a soft goodnight in her ear, a find me any time if you need me. He gave her a last squeeze and left quickly with a mumbled salute to the professor.

As soon as he had rounded the corner he threw the Invisibility Cloak on his head and scurried to the Tower. All the rage he had suppressed and chained away after hearing Vivian’s story started to bubble in his body, threatening to spill over. He fisted his hands at his sides. He’d keep the rage for McLaggen. If he found him… in a closed room a few paces from where Harry was marching on, a glass vial shattered. The boy didn’t notice, too taken with his fury and the memories of his own torments inflicted by Dudley and his peers, with the darkness of the cupboard when Uncle Vernon locked him in, the caginess of his room last year, the bars on the window and the cat flap on the door. 

Chapter Text

Harry had finally got to the Tower, still furious because of what he had discovered earlier. How could someone bully a child like that? To the point of locking her in an empty classroom for the night! It was downright abuse! And how could other Gryffindors like him do that? Weren’t they ashamed? The certainly brought shame to the House of the braves. He was trembling with badly contained rage, fists tight and eyes blazing green like a curse. All he could think of was little Vivian with her hamster like cute chubby cheeks crying on the floor and then in his arms, shivering and bawling her eyes out because of what they had done and said to her. If he put his hands on McLaggen and whoever his accomplice was… he’d avenge the little Slytherin for sure. He wasn’t so certain he could contain himself and not just curse them as soon as he saw them.

He spit the password at the Fat Lady and stomped inside the Common Room, fuming. Ron and Hermione were sitting on the floor in front of the fire, wizarding chess between them, and the moment he entered the room their eyes snapped to him. They cringed in synchrony. They knew him too well, and it was obvious even to the others present in the room that he wasn’t calm at all.

They got up and went over to him. Ron carefully put a hand on his shoulder, the contact grounding him. He explained what had happened under his breath, eyes sweeping over every corner of the room to see if he could find McLaggen. His two best friends were as shocked as he had been, and Hermione looked so furious that for a moment Harry thought she’d punch the bullying git if she saw him. She had been discriminated both because of her dark chocolatey skin and because of her muggle parents, and she was too smart not to liken her own bullying with that a Slytherin could get because of being a snake. Ron’s jaw was set, his blue eyes hard. He knew why Harry didn’t like bullies -of course he knew- and he didn’t have the best history with them either: being poor and the last of six boys wasn’t easy. Never mind that he didn’t like Slytherins, the idea of a little girl shut into a room without means to get out reminded him too much of the poor state Fred, George and he had found Harry in the summer before. And no child deserved bullying. Without buts.

Just then, Harry’s wandering eyes stopped. Ron and Hermione followed his gaze, and there it was. McLaggen was sitting in a corner, half hidden behind another fourth year, a tall guy with short dark hair, Jake Carleigh. He was laughing, relaxed, like he hadn’t left an eleven-year-old shut overnight in a classroom. Ron and Hermione followed Harry’s gaze. Cormac was in for some trouble, they both thought. But they wouldn’t intervene, he deserved it all.

Harry marched through the common room, many eyes leaving what they were looking at to follow the short third year. The air around him almost crackled.

“McLaggen. Do you love bullying children so much?” said Harry. He didn’t raise his voice, his tone soft but cutting through the silence that had spread around him.

“Potter? What do you mean?” McLaggen looked completely confused, like he had no idea what Harry meant. But the younger boy knew. Vivian had said the truth, she was way too desperate not to have been.

“I mean the eleven-year-old girl you hexed and locked in a classroom, and then told you would maybe let her out the next day” he gritted out. The whole common room was holding their breath.

“Aaaah” exclaimed the friend, Carleigh “you mean that little Slytherin!”

“Yes. Yes I mean that little Slytherin”

“Well then, what’s the problem?” intervened McLaggen. His eyes said everything: he didn’t see anything wrong with what he had done. A real bully, then. The lack of understanding and shame in both the older Gryffindors irked Harry even more.

“The problem is that you bullied a little girl three years younger than you and LOCKED HER IN A ROOM AND LEFT HER THERE!” Harry couldn’t hold back the edge in his words, volume raising almost to a shout.

“Mate” Cormac tried to placate him “what’s wrong with you? She’s just an evil slimy snake, it’s fine. She deserved it, if anything. Really, calm down. I don’t understand why you’re defending a Slytherin”

The bottles of Butterbeer in the two bullies’ hands exploded, shards flying around, drenching them in the warm sweet liquid. The room was so silent one could almost hear the pumping of Harry’s enraged heart. He couldn’t see straight anymore, and almost drew his wand on them, hexes ready on the tip of his tongue. It was only Ron and Hermione’s hands on his arms that grounded him enough to just start shouting at Cormac and Jake without cursing them t the infirmary.

“WHAT IF SHE’S A SLYTHERIN? WHAT? YOU. LOCKED. A CHILD. IN A ROOM! IT’S NOT FUNNY! I FOUND HER CRYING HER EYES OUT AND SHE’D BEEN THERE HOURS ALREADY!” he panted, taking deep slow breaths until he felt like he could continue talking without shredding his own vocal cords. Everyone was looking at him in amazement and at McLaggen and Carleigh with disgust. It was one thing not to like Slytherins, another to do that to a first year. The culprits’ faces were dark and twisted, anger and annoyance clear in their eyes and in the twist of their mouths. “Not every Slytherin is an evil slimy snake. If you’re so stupid you can’t understand Houses are just general tags and that no child that young could be, I don’t know, Voldemort” -gasps travelled around him- “then I really want to know how you aren’t repeating first year yourself still. It doesn’t matter what house she or anyone is in. I. Don’t. Like. Bullies. And I don’t really like this idea that Slytherins can only be evil and dark. They’re kid just like us! And clearly not every Gryffindor can be brave, chivalrous and loyal. After all, I have two coward bullies right in front of me.”

“WHAT-?”

“SCREW YOU POTTER, WHO ARE YOU CALLING A COWARD?”

“ASSOCIATING WITH SLYTHERINS NOW, YOU-“

“STOP WHATEVER IS HAPPENING RIGHT THIS INTANT!” It was McGonagall. The shouting had alerted her something was happening, and she had entered the room just in time to see McLaggen and Carleigh jump up from their chairs screaming at Harry, who stood there, wand drawn, school etched on his face and green eyes hard and unforgiving. A step behind him, his best friends also had their wands out. “What is going on here?” the professor asked bewildered, hair out of place and clad in nightwear and slippers.

Harry was about to explain everything in detail when, to his surprise, a lot of people in the common room started speaking all over the others. And from what he could understand, they were defending him! He expected his friends to agree with him -he knew they would, Ron and Hermione and the twins, Ginny, Neville, probably the Quidditch team- but he wasn’t sure the others would defend his ideas. He knew what people at Hogwarts generally thought of Slytherins, he knew many snakes were actually prejudiced gits and bullies themselves, and that Gryffindor had the worst feud with the House of snakes. He thought he would get scorned for what he did and what he said, for his unconventional idea. And yes, he could see some -especially older students- glaring at him and clearly not quite agreeing with his ideas, but nobody was standing up for the bullies! Probably leaving a child to rot alone in a locked room was too much even for those who truly and deeply didn’t like Slytherin as a whole and never would.  

A year before he would have feared Ron’s opinion as well, but their friendship had strengthened enough that he knew the read head would always have his back. And they had talked about this, all three of them: they had discussed racism, blood purism and prejudices, all snuggled together on Harry’s bed in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. They had agreed that they didn’t know any nice Slytherin, but that the possibility was there all the same. After all, Harry had almost been one himself.

“SILENCE!”

Everyone quieted down at McGonagall’s order. “Now, I want one, and only one, of you to explain what I walked in. Weasley, go on” -more silence, and the five Weasleys in the room looked at each other. Harry hadn’t seen Ginny there when he first entered the room, but probably she had gotten there because of the noise. If he thought about it, all of Gryffindor House was now pressed into the common room, attracted downstair by the fight- “Oh, of course, there’s a whole bunch of you… Percival, you’re Head Boy, I trust you will relay everything as it happened.”

Percy started talking, his words true to what had just happened. Harry watched at the prim and proper Weasley defend his position strongly with the amazement that still filled him when someone took his side. Ron elbowed him in the ribs and gave him a thumbs up, wiggling his eyebrows. “McGonagall will have their skin when Percy is done, mate. No need to hex them anymore” he murmured smirking. Behind them, Fred and George -who had apparently placed themselves behind Harry like two creepily smiling bodyguards- added that if he wanted, they could still hex them, eyes trained on their housemates. They knew plenty of spells for that. The mischief in their voice gave Harry their shivers, and he promised himself not for the first time to never get on their bad side. Hermione clearly shared the sentiment, and she nodded to him in mock seriousness when their eyes met.

At the same time, Minerva’s expression was becoming more and more grim the more Percy explained. When she heard of Vivian being locked up she looked downright murderous. When Percy had finished, she asked Harry to confirm what had been said. He did, and then added some more details that he knew would anger her even more. She was stern and composed and clearly gave Gryffindor preferential treatment when it came to Quidditch, but she was a teacher first and foremost. Her students were all equally valued and bullying was not something she tolerated. Carleigh and McLaggen tried to defend themselves, to deny everything, but everyone had heard them admitting their actions, so they couldn’t escape their Head of House’s wrath.

“Very well. Mr Potter, twenty points to Gryffindor for helping a student, inter-house unity and trying to put a stop to prejudices and bullying. McLaggen, Carleigh. I am very disappointed in you. I had thought I’d raised and taught my Gryffindors better. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Forty points from Gryffindor for each of you, and you’ll report tomorrow to Professor Snape for the decision of the punishment for harming one of his snakes. In addition, you will serve detention with me for the next two months.”

The two bullies cowered under her stern gaze and nodded, grimacing and clearly not on pair with the consequences of their actions and the heavy and disappointed stares from their housemates.

“Now” concluded the professor with an air of finality “go to bed, all of you!” And with that, she turned on her heels and walked back to her rooms.

Harry moved towards the dormitory stairs, flanked by his friends. “Be thankful that she got here before I could hex you” he murmured darkly to the two bullies as he passed them.

“Yeah boys, be thankful!”

“Harry here-”

“Packs a mean stinging hex-”

“Really mean-”

“The worst” cheerfully concluded the twins, their usual ending completing each other’s sentences made even more creepy than usual by twin manic grins.

“Not to talk about his tripping jinx” added Ron, vengeance shining in his eyes.

“Or any other of his spells, really. If I was you, I’d behave, or you’d better watch your backs.” With that, Hermione put an end to the threats. Then, she hugged her two boys goodnight, murmured how proud she was in Harry’s ear and disappeared up the stairs of the girls rooms.

The boys did the same, and as soon as they had entered their dormitory Ron threw himself on his bed and started laughing. “You were bloody amazing! Bloody amazing, I say mate!”

“Thanks Ron” Harry said, starting to change into his sleepwear. He smiled at his best friend, proud of himself and happy that something would be done about the whole mess. “Do you think Vivian will be okay?”

“Sure mate” assured Ron “You got her to Snape, and the git adores his snakes. D’you reckon you’ll have a new little duckling following you around now? Can you…” -he had to interrupt himself, howling with laughter- “can you imagine the great Harry Potter going around like a mama duck with his little fans behind? And a baby snake to add to your collection! She can become best friends forever with Colin, start a fan club!”

Harry just looked at him, terrified, and Ron laughed even louder. The night went on like that, with Ron and his dorm mates, who had gotten upstairs after few minutes and were proud as hell of Harry -Dean had called him a badass filled with righteous fury, Seamus had punched him in the arm with a smile even if his general dislike of snakes was well known and Neville had even hugged him-, laughing at the thought of Harry going around with a queue of small fans and Harry smiling at the good-natured jests and rolling his eyes. They had all fallen asleep with their bed curtains open, tired and content and warm, Black and Dementors forgotten for the night. Before falling asleep, Harry thought he could cry of happiness because of his friends.

Chapter Text

The next morning felt normal to Harry. He woke up way earlier than his dorm mates, he rushed to finish spare homework he had forgotten the day before -Hermione wouldn’t approve-, he got washed, dressed and ready for the day. Lastly, he woke up his friends. He had been appointed human alarm clock in first year, when the other boys had noticed he was always awake before them. First Neville, then Dean, Seamus and at last Ron. The read head was a hassle to wake, the only proved and tested way to get him to leave bed in less than ten minutes was screaming that breakfast was almost finished while spraying him with water. Fred and George had instructed him when he was staying at the Burrow, and the method had never failed.

The Gryffindor third years -boys and girls- walked together to the Great Hall for breakfast, chattering about the most trivial topics: classmates, teachers, homework. That morning the main topic was Harry’s outburst the night before, as well as speculations on what kind of terrible punishment Snape would unleash. Dean and Lavender started a bet on which medieval torture he would use. Harry personally could see Snape decked in a black executioner robe not that different from his usual attire, tying people to tables and vivisecting them to gather rare Potions ingredients. A challenge started on who could find the most creative insult for McLaggen and Carleigh, the bullying gits. Similar challenges were very much the norm between the group, Malfoy being the object of many of them. Neville won, extraordinarily: Harry couldn’t stop laughing for minutes when the blonde came up with Merlin’s-flaccid-balls-brained stupid housist bullies. Amazing.

Said bullies were absent from the Gryffindor table -or any table in the hall, really.

“We may-”

“Or may not-”

“Have heard-”

“That our lovely boys of the day-”

“Had to go to the infirmary for mysterious-”

“Huge-”

“Bulbous-”

“Growth on their noses.”

“Nobody knows where they got them-”

“We certainly-”

“Aren’t involved.” The twins sing-sang with a cheeky smile, and not even Hermione berated them for hexing another student so badly. She actually looked really impressed at their spell work. Fred -Harry could always tell who was who, since Fred had a small dimple on his right cheek when he smiled and George’s freckles were packed much closer on his nose- just smiled mysteriously when she asked what spell they had used, and stated again that they had absolutely nothing to do with it. Everyone knew it was a lie.

Breakfast was superb as usual, and Harry told himself to remember to go say hello to the house elves in the kitchens as soon as he could. The small creatures really were amazing, everything they cooked looked and tasted like the best chefs in the world worked at Hogwarts. Harry filled his bowl with oatmeal and topped it generously with blueberry jam and almonds, Hermione’s eyes trained on him so he wouldn’t eat too little or just unhealthy things. He had to admit he had some problems when it came to food. He loved sweets, he had a sweet tooth to rival even the children of The Chocolate Factory, and if only he could, he would eat just them. He knew it was related to the facts that the Dursleys had never allowed him to eat chocolate or cakes or any dessert or snack. Not to mention his general predisposition to just forget to eat. He may have food right in front of him, but sometimes he was too taken with his thoughts or eventual conversations t remember to fill his plate. Or he would fill it, but with what he himself knew was way too little food. Some habits were hard to break, and not even starting Hogwarts had made aunt Petunia give him more food. Hermione and Ron knew all of this, of course: they may not know every single dirty detail about his awful relatives, but they knew they liked to try to starve him -they had provided him with food the whole month and a half he had to stay there that summer. And they knew that at the start of the school year Harry was prone to eating less and forgetting himself more. Ron was usually too busy to stuff himself full to reprimand him, and just passed him food he knew he liked every time he saw him not eating. Hermione, on the other hand, monitored him with hawk eyes and reminded him to eat and to do so healthy. The thing that would shock everyone -and that had shocked Harry too at first- was that the twins were the biggest mother hens in the world. They filled his plate, brought him snacks between lessons when they saw him, always gave him food before and after Quidditch practice, asked him how e was every time of the day -in subtle ways that Harry realised only hours after. They were almost as bad -and with that Harry meant good, he loved having someone who cared for him, he never had before the Weasleys- as Mrs Weasley. Harry guessed going on a rescue mission to free him from his relatives the summer before had to have consequences. And he couldn’t say he didn’t like it -being an honorary Weasley was almost like having a real family of his own.

Harry swiped his eyes along the Gryffindor table trying to decide what to have with his oatmeal that fine morning. He was a bit cold, so maybe tea. Yes, with a dash of milk and too much sugar. He could try to sprinkle cinnamon on it, like he had seen Percy do. He thought it over, munching on the sweet soft oats, then shrugged and decided to try it. He wasn’t all that picky after all.

On his right, Ron was scarfing down sausages and beans -and really how could he eat so much meat and grease first thing in the morning?- and in front of him Hermione pointedly looked away. She always joked that watching Ron eat gave her the shivers, and Harry wasn’t so sure it was a joke or the reality. He himself didn’t have any problems with Ron’s eating habits. He made sure he didn’t binge eat, something he knew could end badly -just look at Dudley-, nudged him to slow down a bit and that was it. His uncle and cousin were way more disgusting at the table and he’d had to get used to it.

Neville, sitting on Harry’s left, was picking at his eggs. The chubby boy used to binge eat a little bit himself from what Harry had gathered in their shared mealtime, but ever since they’d come back he was always reluctant to eat. Harry spooned some yoghurt in a bowl, topped it with fruit, granola and nuts and placed it in front of him with a smile. He had to be careful about his dorm mate. He knew he got picked on because of his weight, maybe giving him healthier options would make him feel less like he was on his way to gain more weight. He sure didn’t want for his friend to start having problems with eating too little like he did -he was trying to win over his tendency to forget meals, but being starved didn’t help and all his progress always backtracked in the summers. And anyway, Neville was cute even with a bit more meat on his bones, if Harry had to say. He’d grow up quite handsome if he was anything like the man he’d seen in his parents’ wedding pictures. He wasn’t sure the man was actually Neville’s dad, but the similarities between the two were uncanny. Neville thanked him with a smile and left his eggs and bacon to devour his yoghurt.

A thick slice of heavenly-smelling treacle tart was thrust in his face, obscuring his view. Harry startled, leaning away from the treat with a start and a jump and collided with a stocky someone behind him. They smelled of firebursting powder and sugar. A hand, probably the sibling of the one who was still dangling treacle tart in front of his face, ruffled his hair and a chuckle reverberated through his back. He leaned his head on the chest right behind him and looked up. George’s face was looking down at him, flanked by Fred and Lee Jordan. The older boy smiled and poked him in the cheek with the dessert slice.

“C’mon Harrykins, open up! You need to eat a bit more, put some meat on those bones! Say aaaaaah…”

With a laugh, Harry complied and opened his mouth to take a hearty bite of his favourite sweet. The twins and their best friend beamed at him, and even Hermione didn’t say anything about him ruining his teeth with all the sugar. George kept feeding him until the treat was gone, chatting animatedly about the new joke idea he and Fred had: food that could be used to skip class. They were still unsure about the exact dynamics of the things -was it better to make something that turned you invisible when eaten or something that made you sprout random animal parts?- and they happily listened to the suggestions whoever was in range of hearing made.

That was why Gryffindor, Hogwarts really, was home.

The cloying sweetness of the treacle tart had him think of the little Bulstrode again. He hoped she was fine this morning. He’d check on her before going to class, a quick trip to the Slytherin table wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. Well, hoping she was there. If not… oh well, he’d think of something. He always did.

“Bye bye kids!”

“Be good, do pranks-”

“Remember to say hi to Hagrid for us-”

“And never forget to always think of your favourite Weasleys ever!”

“Bye Fred, bye George, bye Lee!” chorused the third years. The three fifth years bowed and skipped out of the Great Hall, muttering to themselves about some new prank or mischief or new master plan to conquer Hogwarts.

“Mione” mumbled Ron, not bothering to stop chewing before speaking “wad d’we have f’ firsht p’riod?”

“Ronald Weasley please swallow before talking, you are disgusting! And if you bothered to pay attention you would know that we have Hagrid.” She shook her head “I hope he’s feeling a bit better… what with Buckbeak and everything…”

The so-called Golden Trio sighed as one, cheeriness sobered instantly at the mention of the hippogriff and his imminent trial. Dam Malfoy and his father and the stick up their arse!

“Come on, let’s go there a bit earlier. We can try to cheer him up a bit, make him some tea at least. And I wanted to check the Slytherin table a second.”

“You want to check on your new duckling don’t you?” cheekily smirked Ron, amusement dripping from his voice. Hermione snorted into her hands. “Trying to create an army of small little fans, oh Heir of Slytherin, future Dark Lord of the mother ducks?” At that, Hermione couldn’t hold back anymore and burst laughing, frizzy coils bouncing on her head with glee. Harry only scowled and got up from the table with his nose in the hair in his best imitation of Malfoy. He turned sharply on his heels with a sharp swirl of his robes, but his attempt to convey a non-existent inner Snape failing miserably when the robes in question got stuck on a crooked nail coming out of the side of the table bench. His friends’ laughter doubled, and he shook his head smiling and blushed. He heard Ron and Hermione getting up themselves, and knowing they’d follow him he started ahead.

The Slytherin table was almost empty, most students having finished breakfast already. He scanned the black robes and green ties, trying to find a short head of dark waves. He saw some members of the snakes’ Quidditch team, a few third years he knew the name of and… there! Sitting with a cluster of little first year was Vivian. She was sitting on the further side from the Gryffindor table -understandable, she probably didn’t trust anyone with her back after what had happened the day before- and she was right in the middle of the group. The other little snakes were sticking to her like glue, probably to comfort and defend her, and wasn’t that just so cute?

“Have you seen her? Is she at the table?” asked Hermione, now walking slowly right beside him.

“Yeah. She’s there, see” he pointed discreetly to the cluster of first years “She’s the one in the middle, with her hair down, dark, fair skin, a bit chubby… she’s talking to that other girl with blonde hair and braids.”

“Oh yes, I see her. You were right Harry, she’s so cute! She really does look like a hamster!”

“You two and your love for cute things, I’ll never understand. But she does look like that all right. I guess I could maybe understand wanting to squish her cheeks and hug her…” Ron stated. He had his chess face on, Harry noticed, the one that said he was studying the situation in front of him, analysing new people. He nodded and Harry smiled. Vivian had just passed Ron’s test for declaring if someone was a good person. The read head had admitted to him Harry had passed his scrutiny with full marks when he’d reassured him there was nothing wrong with being poor, shared his sweets with him and refused Malfoy just because he was a git even if he was way richer than Ron and his family that first day. He had apparently gained more points throughout all of first year, and now Ron and he were stuck at the hips. Hermione too, even if she’d become their friend later on and she was a bit of a know-it-all.

They had circled the table, mistrustful and calculating eyes following them. the first years hadn’t noticed them, too taken with whatever they were discussing.

“I say we ask Flint to teach us that hex that makes you break out in boils…”

“Why don’t we ask Professor Snape? Maybe he has a potion that will give them the stomach bug, or… or make them hallucinate! We could have them see the professor follow theme everywhere!”

“Yes! Or their mother!”

“I still think hexes are better. There should be one that makes them trip and slip when they walk…”

“I say we sic Filch on them somehow…”

The three Gryffindor snorted under their breath. Typical Slytherin, already planning on how to best serve revenge. Harry tapped Vivian gently on the shoulder. “Hey Viv! What’s this on hexing people hm? Sorry to say someone already got there.”

“Harry!” the snakelet smiled so bright she almost blinded him, twisted on his seat and hugged him with only little hesitation. Harry hugged her back and patted her head, scowling at Ron when he mouthed mother duck at him. “Have you really hexed them then? Really?”

“I’m sorry, Viv, I didn’t. McGonagall got there before I could even try. But… I exploded their butterbeers, hope that counts. How are you?”

“You exploded their butterbeers? Wow! With accidental magic? You must have been really angry then… then who hexed them? how? When?”

“Slow down, slow down! I can only say that our beloved bullies now have twin bulbous noses that had them run to the infirmary, if you get what I mean” he smirked, the gobsmacked expression of the little Slytherins’ faces around him and the glint in their eyes telling him they’d gotten the hint. Aside from Vivian, the other snakelets were looking at him with a bit more suspiciousness, but not as much as he’d thought. He guessed his little hamster had told them what happened. “Now again, how are you? Feeling better?”

She hummed. “I’m fine. I didn’t even have nightmares! But maybe because I slept with Millie…”

“Good, good. Now, these here are Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, I guess you know already. Ron, Mione, this is Vivian Bulstrode. What are your friends called?”

Vivian greeted both Ron and Hermione pleasantly, her head tilted to the side just a little bit. Harry guessed she was thinking about what he’d told her about prejudices. He hoped he’d get the change to talk to her about it again, he didn’t have enough time that day and didn’t want to start that kind of talk with older Slytherins around. Many of them he knew for sure were blood purists.

The little girl smiled again when she started naming all of her friends -Greengrass’ younger sister Astoria, another Goyle whose name he couldn’t remember anymore, a shy Alfred Rowle and his cousin Maxon and Esther Yaxley. She looked very proud when she got to introduce Harry Potter to her friends. After a few pleasantries, and Harry noticed everyone greeted Hermione but only Vivian looked at her in the eyes and no one even tried to shake their hands -but they were pureblood kids, and he hadn’t scolded them on their idiotic ideas; yet-, the three Gryffindors said their goodbyes and walked away. Harry could feel the eyes of almost everyone in the room on them: it wasn’t every day a Gryffindor -let alone the Boy-Who-Lived- calmly went to chat with Slytherins in front of everyone. A shiver ran down his spine and the boy knew Snape was staring at him. Many stares were confused, some disgusted or suspicious. People were hissing and murmuring already.

As soon as they were out of sight they quickened their pace, wanting to get to Hagrid as soon as possible.

“Harry, how did you do it? No one of them said anything about me being a muggleborn!”

“Or me being a blood traitor!”

“And they all greeted us!”

“The snakelet is completely taken with you, isn’t she? I could see the hero worship from the other side of the room!” Laughter followed.

“Shut it Ron! You should get glasses, you can see less than me!”

“Oh, oh, I know! We should have her meet Ginny! They could start a fanclub!”

“Rooon…” Harry groaned as his best friends laughed at his expense. The two were almost in hysterics at the thought.

“They could ask Colin and Dennis as well!” Hermione added, not helping in the least.

“YOU GITS!”

They had exited the castle, and Harry thought his face could probably boil eggs now with how hot he felt his cheeks. Luckily he didn’t blush much, all thanks to his darker skin, but surely he was as red as an apple right that moment. He felt like it. They weren’t stopping, and the teasing was too embarrassing! He had to do something.

Harry cast a tripping jinx and tripped Ron to the ground, then took Hermione’s hair out of the poofy ponytail she had twisted them into on the top of her head. She shrieked in rage, but he just pushed her huge mass of hair on her face so she couldn’t see him and took off running.

“HARRY YOU BLOODY… IF I GET YOU!” Ron bellowed, getting back on his feet and starting to run behind Harry, who had shorter legs -he was shorter, full point- but was as fast as cheetah. Hermione quickly wrestled her hair back into their ponytail and followed suit, screaming threats at a laughing Harry.

Chapter Text

Hagrid’s two-periods class had gone well, all things considering. Harry, Ron and Hermione had managed to cheer the half giant a bit before the other students arrived, they’d served him tea and discussed possible legal ways for Buckbeak to win the trail.

The class itself had been fine. A bit boring, a bit dull, way less captivating than that first awesome one -if only Malfoy hadn’t decided to be his usual pratty self in front of an easily offended creature… maybe they’d still be having classes like that one. Hagrid had them tend to their Bowtruckles again, and when he told them that would be the last lesson on the tiny branch-like creatures everyone had rejoiced. Every Gryffindor, at least.

The Slytherins spent the class as they usually did: sneering and scowling and insulting Hagrid under their breath. Malfoy had been maybe even more annoying than usual, and only Hermione’s level-head had managed to keep Harry and Ron from hexing him or starting a fistfight. Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson had followed his lead of course. However, Harry noticed that some other snakes were quite silent and subdued that morning. He couldn’t really put a finger on who, he tried to look their way as little as possible so he wouldn’t see Malfoy’s ugly face, but he was sure someone was staring at him. Multiple someones. It gave him the creeps and he wondered why, but couldn’t think of an answer aside from what had happened the night before and that same morning with Vivian. Oh well, it was fine. He was quite used to stares. He didn’t realise that he shared the class with Vivian’s older sister, Millicent Bulstrode.

On the other hand, Hermione had thought about it. She wasn’t great with social cues and the like, and she didn’t know Millicent at all, but she guessed that is she had a sister saved from bullies by someone she would want to thank that certain someone. Or at least keep an eye on them. She had seen the stockier, taller Slytherin girl glancing at them and she wanted to tell Harry -who she was sure had noticed someone looking at him but not realised who- but she didn’t want to miss Hagrid’s lesson so she kept quiet. She then had to run to her next class, leaving her two best friends behind with only a quick bye.

The two boys looked at their friend bustle around with that huge bag full of books and thanked Merlin they had decided to take lighter courses. They said their goodbyes to Hagrid, checked their schedule to see they had a free period before History of Magic and decided to take a stroll around the castle before heading back inside.

That was why, class dismissed and third years walking back to the castle in grapples, Harry and Ron were quite surprised to be accosted by no other than Millicent Bulstrode. She was followed by Blaise Zabini, whose skin was even darker than Hermione and who looked at them with curiosity shining in his dark eyes, and who was almost as tall as Ron -nobody in their year was taller than Ron-, and Tracey Davis, a brunette with a heart-shaped face that resembled a bit an owl what with her round hazel eyes and small lips and even shorter than Harry -and few in their year were shorter than Harry.

The shorter Gryffindor blinked up at them when they stopped right in front of him and Ron, and in hand subtly inched towards his wand in his pocket. Ron bristled, wand at the ready, still and scowling and ready for attack. He didn’t do anything, however. He squinted at the trio and saw that whilst they all lokked perfectly prim and relaxed, Bulstrode was actually fidgeting a little. And none of them had their wand in hand from what he could see. Harry had noticed the same, and also realised Millicent probably wanted to talk to him about her sister, so he arranged his features in ones of neutral politeness and greeted them curtly. “Bulstrode, Zabini, Davis”

“Potter” Bulstrode nodded at him and cleared her throat “I wanted to thank you for helping my little sister yesterday. The Bulstrodes are in your debt, and it’s within you rights to collect it whenever you feel it best” She extended her hand, palm open and ready to shake. Harry glanced at Ron: he had relaxed his grip on his wand and his shoulders were not as tense, understanding clear on his face. He nodded subtly at him, and Harry shook the Slytherin’s hand. It was soft and warm, a bit damp with sweat, and her shake was strong. She may have looked overweight, but it was clear to Harry that it was mostly constitution and that the girl had strength to spare. She probably could take Crabbe or Goyle in a brawl, she was as tall as them and looked like she had a mean hook. Her features softened when Harry accepted her hand, a hint of a smile making her cheeks puff out in striking resemblance to her sister. A tall scary stone-faced hamster. Harry had to keep himself from snorting. He released the girl’s hand and started shifting uncomfortably on his feet instead.

“Ah… well, thanks for the thank you… but it’s fine, really. I don’t need a debt or something, it’s fine, I didn’t do it to get something from you really I’m just glad Vivian is okay and that she’s-”

“Are you refusing my thanks? You shook on it Potter!” Millicent had started frowning somewhere along his rant and now she looked profoundly offended, arms crossed and lips downturned.

“What? No what? I-” Harry was flabbergasted. What had he done wrong? He was even more confused when Ron interrupted him, placing a hand on his arm, and took a step forward so he was right beside him and not slightly behind anymore. He didn’t look angry, or ready to fight. He had that expression he sometimes got when explaining wizarding culture to him or Hermione, like he was shocked and almost annoyed but at the same time giving off of course you don’t know anything about this, Merlin’s balls vibes.

“Calm down Bulstrode. He’s not refusing your thanks or whatever, he just doesn’t know a thing about it all. Look… I know it seems strange, but he grew up with Muggles, okay? And I’m a blood traitor or some shit like that, it’s not like I know etiquette like the palm of my hand, I never bothered explaining. Never thought he’d have someone claim a debt to him… only Harry… well, whatever, he didn’t mean to offend did you Harry?”

“What? No, of course not! I just didn’t think I did something so… so extraordinary for you to be in my debt! It’s fine for me if you just thank me and go on with your life really!”

Ron sighed and shook his head wit amusement “See? Told you so, he knows nothing.”

Harry was confused. He understood that all that talk about debts had something to do with wizarding traditions -he got that from Ron’s little speech, and couldn’t agree more with his friend that he truly did not know a single thing- but he still thought it too much fuss for something so little. He had helped Vivian, and? He would have done the same for everyone in her situation, it was the right thing to do, it didn’t require a debt from her whole family. It was fine if Millicent wanted to thank you and shake his hand, but couldn’t it stop there?

The confusion was clear on the Gryffindor’s face. Head cocked like a bird, dark curly hair flying everywhere and anywhere without much sense, green eyes big and clueless underneath his round glasses lenses and frowning brows, he really didn’t have idea of what and why Millicent had said what she’d said. The realisation that what Weasley had said was true was impossible to ignore for the three Slytherins. Tracey hadn’t really been very informed about the whole matter as well, being half-blood and living mostly in the Muggle world with her father, but she’d been briefed about it before and even she had had a modicum of knowledge about the whole debt and thanks thing. Blaise was mostly amused: how could someone be so naïve and good-hearted not to jump at the offer of a family debt? Only Harry Potter, truly. Millicent had cooled her offense and she echoed Weasley’s sigh. She wouldn’t budge on it, Potter had done a great favour to her sister helping her and favours had to be repaid.

“Listen Potter, you may not understand it, but I’ve pledged a debt to you and you’ll accept it, clear?”

Millicent could actually be scary. Wow. “Fine, fine, but I still don’t understand it.” He said with a shrug. “Well, Ron and I are going back to the castle if it’s alright with you then…?” The two boys hovered awkwardly for a few seconds then made to walk around the Slytherins, but they were quickly blocked again.

“We’ll walk back with you” said Zabini. His voice had already gone lower than any of the other third years boys Harry had talked to, but there were still hints of the high-pitched voice from childhood. Harry and Ron looked at each other, at the Slytherins and at each other again. It wouldn’t hurt would it? They had approached them for a debt and thanks, so it was highly improbable that they decided to hex them as soon as nobody was near. They shrugged and the five of them started walking towards the looming walls of Hogwarts.

Tracey fell into step beside Harry and nudged him with her elbow. It was quite pointy. Harry leaned slightly away from her. He didn’t like this closeness with people he wasn’t sure of. Tracey looked at him with sharp eyes but said nothing and stepped a bit further from him, earning herself a relieved smile. “Say Potter-“

“Harry’s fine.”

“Tracey then” she said with an easy smile that looked a bit like a shark’s. That’s why she’s Slytherin, Harry thought on passing. “Anyway, Harry, were you the one who scared Baby Bulstrode with stories of racism? She’s babbled to all the other firsties about it and I’m not sure she really understood everything, but she was quite adamant nobody should say, you know, that word anymore. And that they all do research to see if what her worship-worthy new hero is right”

Instantly Harry stepped closer to Ron, who had tensed as well. they didn’t stop walking, but they had slowed down, and it was clear that Zabini and Bulstrode in front of them were listening keenly. He couldn’t say if the girl was angry or happy or whatever about it. but she was a half-blood herself! He had heard Malfoy taunting her sometimes in the corridors. She had no place to try bullshitting him with pureblood antics and racist ideas!

“Yes. I told her pureblood ideas are racist and stupid and bigoted, and you’re really the last person who can try to tell me otherwise. and if you three have a problem with it then you can leave us alone and we won’t miss you at all.” Harry’s eyes shone bright green and hard when he stared down the Slytherins. He could feel a soft crackling sound in his ears, and he knew if they tried to force feed him their politics he would loose his hold on his anger -and on his magic as a consequence. Anger had always been one of his main coping mechanisms, and this year he had even more to spare -probably because he had more to cope with. All the accidental magic the night before hadn’t been an unusual occurrence that summer: Aunt Marge had been blown up because of it, and glasses and pebbles had shattered or skidded off outside his sight because of it. And really, if there was a thing he couldn’t and wouldn’t stand in the wizarding world, it was blood purism. That and adult’s insistence he was someone he was not. But that last thing was something he had realized he couldn’t fight, not without mining his Hogwarts life. Bullies, he could deal with without problems.

He could feel Ron was as tense and as ready to start a fight as he was. His little outburst had stopped them all. They were still now, five small black-clad figures standing on the green hills of Hogwarts ground. The Slytherins were looking at him, and Harry hated that reading them was so difficult. He couldn’t say what they were thinking about, and that made him itch and fidget.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist! Really, you Gryffindors always have to jump to conclusions…”

“Blaise…” Millicent directed a sharp look at her friend, who humpfed and crossed his arms in front of him. “Listen Potter, I don’t know where you got the idea that every snake is a blood purist. Blaise and I, we’re friends with Tracey and she’s a half-blood. I may have thought like Vivi does once, but I like to observe what’s going on around me and it’s easy to see those ideals are wrong.” It was the longest Harry and Ron had ever heard the tall girl speak.

“So yeah, I asked because we wanted to thank you for that too. And never. Never. Ever. Try to tell me I’m one of those blood purist arseholes. My mum gets enough shit from them I’d never touch their beliefs with a five-feet pole.” Davis looked furious. her whole face was twisted in a frown, eyes blazing not unlike Harry’s earlier. She was tense, leaning forward and with her fists tight like she was barely managing not to throw a punch.

“It’s easy to fill kids’ heads with stuff when they are young and impressionable, and Vivian’s always been coddled way more than me. So really, thank you. I would have approached the subject myself in a few weeks but I think your approach is more successful.” Concluded Millicent, trying to give Harry a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“Sorry” mumbled Harry “I… I didn’t know. And I’m… I mean… It’s a bit hard to think, that Slytherins can be not blood purists that is, with Malfoy always prancing around…”

“Yeah, he’s a right git.” Said Ron with the tone of a statement that couldn’t be contested with. That had them all burst into a fit of laughter.

“Glad we cleared all that, now Harry, I can call you Harry, right?” -Harry nodded- “Yes, perfect, call me Blaise. I’d say we can all be friends, don’t you agree? Just think of the scandal: Golden Boy of Gryffindor, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the most orange of the most Gryffindor family of all times friends with slimy snakes? Everyone will have a fit!” Cheered Blaise with glee.

“Hey! I’m not the most orange!” Ron squeaked in outrage, drawing to his full height and scowling playfully at the other boy.

“But you are, Ron! Is Ron okay? Perfect! You are all so orange and red, but when you blush you really look like a ripe tomato!” Tracey couldn’t stop laughing at Ron’s look of utter offence, and Harry joined her in a fit that had them and Blaise almost bent in half. Even Millicent was laughing softly behind a hand.

“It’s not fair you’re all ganging up on me already! Harry, I rescind your privileges as my best friend” Sulked Ron, huffing and puffing.

“No! No please! How could I ever live without your mum’s Weasley sweater!”

“Ah, so that is the only reason you are my friend! You wound me! I’ll never recover this hit to my heart! How could you? How could you, whom I thought of as my brother of all but blood?” Cried Ron, swooning and clutching at his chest like he’d been stabbed. His dramatics only worsened the other teens’ hysterics.

“You know it’s all a joke, right? I love you, mate” Harry said once sober, and relished with relief in Ron’s cheeky smile, full of the mischief that so often shone in the twins’ eyes.

“What’s Weasley sweaters?” Asked Millicent, clearly curious. Ron beamed at being asked a question about something his family did -his insecurities sometimes were overwhelming- and started talking about them without the usual embarrassment that accompanied the thought of Weasley sweaters. That was something Harry couldn’t understand. He had loved all of his, they were amongst his better clothes and were so soft and warm and felt like home and motherly hugs. He loved Mrs Weasley, and every time he thought of how nice she’d been to him even before getting to know him he almost teared up.

“Well, basically my mum always knits sweaters for all of us, usually with our initial or something that represents us on the front, and since last year she’s been making them for Harry as well! the thing is that mine is always maroon and I hate maroon…”

“No, why? I bet maroon would really suit you if it’s the right shade! You’d be really stylish in the muggle world, wouldn’t he, Harry?” Piped up Tracey, and when Harry nodded in assent she went on and on about muggle fashion and wizarding fashion and which colours would better suit Ron’s complexion. Harry tuned it out, simply basking in the sun and in the knowledge his count of friends had just gone up. They started walking again, and Harry was simply happy to walk alongside his new friends even when the only one breaking the silence was Tracey. He liked the idea of having friends from other houses as well, and even more that they were Slytherins: after all, he’d almost been one himself, and it was nice to know one really could find nice people in the House of Snakes.

“So it’s real real that you live with muggles? Because of course everyone heard about it when you started school but some are still sure it’s only a cover and you’re actually being trained by the goblins or some other senseless assumption.” Blaise interrupted his day-dreaming, falling in line to his left and casually linking their arms. Harry tensed only for a second, then relaxed. It was probably a Blaise-thing to do: he had seen him around school, always having physical contact with his friends, hugging them and messing their hair and walking arm in arm with them. It wasn’t all that bad. Harry liked contact whit his friends, he loved it. and looking intently into Blaise’s black eyes all he could see was genuine curiosity, so he thought it would be fine to leave the taller boy’s arm where it was. His best friend and Davis where still immersed in their conversation, but Millicent had quietly shifted her attention to them. She was biting her lip, probably a sign of curiosity. Harry filed that away for later use.

“No, it’s real. I live with my aunt, uncle and cousin. They’re as muggle as they come, and I’ve never seen a goblin in the neighbourhood so I’m sorry to say I’m not being trained to conquer the world.”

“Wicked! So you can tell me all about elekricity! And cars! I’m taking Muggle Studies, you know, but the professor always leaves me full of questions! Tracey never wants to indulge me!”

And just like that, the conversation shifted to muggle means of leaving life, and the five of them made their way back to the castle with light steps and hearts.

Chapter Text

The weekend had been a strange experience. Very strange and very funny. Hermione had spent the majority of her time swamped in homework and books and research, driving herself nearly crazy with her insane desire to study everything. And it wasn’t even October yet! She’d been surprised by the strange turn of events with the Slytherins, and a bit scared. She didn’t want someone possibly so close to her and hers to start calling her names: she was strong -stronger than many when it came to this- but her heart was fragile already because of years of whispers about her intelligence and skin colour, and now about her blood too. Harry had sworn to her that if they even thought of her as a lesser being he would avenge her with all the might of his thirteen-year-old self. But he didn’t think it would be a problem. She had been a bit more relaxed after that.

On Saturday afternoon Harry and Ron had managed to bodily lift her and her piles of books and sit her in the library, thinking that if she really wanted to study at least a change of scenery would help her mind not implode. Then, mostly out of friendship obligation, the two boys had placed themselves at her table and attacked their own study material with force and righteous fury. It had been Harry’s idea, Ron would have gone and played quidditch all day, but they had to study some too and Hermione needed to socialize.  

Hermione squeaked and started flailing when Ron and Harry pounced on her and grabbed her -Harry took her by the armpits and Ron grabbed her legs. They swinged her around a bit, laughing and not caring about the glares they were getting from the other students trying to study in the common room.

“PUT ME DOWN! Boys please! Put. Me. Down. I need to study, what will I do if I fail my tests? I’ll fail the end-of-year exam and then my OWLs and I’ll never graduate!” The girl went on screeching.

“Mione! Calm down! You won’t fail a bloody thing, you swot!” Ron had interrupted with enough exasperation in his voice Harry had almost let go of the girl because of laughter.

“Yeah, Mione, don’t worry so much. And we won’t stop your studying, we just think it’s unhealthy to bury yourself in books here!”

“Yeah! Look, after much thought and sufferance on our part… yes, okay, the sufferance mostly on my part… we decided that you will study in the library. Full stop. That’s it.”

“No argument will be heard or taken into consideration.” Concluded Harry with a finalising nod. When Hermione finally relented, growing limp and nodding her head -bushy coils bouncing around- they put her down, packed all the books necessary and headed down to the library.

And then, that happened. Sure, Blaise had told them he didn’t want to keep their friendship secret, but the Gryffindors had been completely shocked when Millicent, Tracey and Blaise had plopped down next to them and proclaimed that they now were a study group.

“Hey there our amazing Gryffindor friends! Pine tree, snitch, good to see you again. Granger! Hermione is fine isn’t it? How nice to meet you officially! I absolutely don’t think of your muggle origins as anything bad, please don’t compare me to Malfoy or I might as well off myself” Blaise announced with flair and flamboyancy in a soft enough voice not to alert Madam Pince, startling the Golden Trio when he popped up in front of them, flanked by Millicent and Tracey.

“Mind if we study with you?” asked the taller girl. Still dumbfounded, the three could only nod yes and the snakes settled themselves on the table.

“Wait a moment… why pine tree?” Asked a perplexed Ron to an evily smiling Blaise. “Well, of course because you’re so tall and lanky! And before you ask, harry dear, you’re short and cannot stay put just like a snitch.”

“Hey!” Harry felt somewhat offended.

“Don’t take it badly, snitch! You’re golden after all, and difficult to catch. Not exactly bad things…” Blaise was still smiling quite cheekily, and Harry pouted at the Slytherin. He was opening his mouth to retort, somehow, even if he didn’t know how, but Hermione interrupted him. “Honestly boys! We need to study and you’re no help!”

“Yes, and listen, I’ve got the bestest idea! Why don’t we start a study group? Like, we could meet here to study all together every week and help each other!” Had piped up Tracey. What Harry would come to know as her constantly bubbly and over-the-top personality -and really didn’t she ever rest? Was she on drugs? It was a possibility…- wasn’t dimmed even by the prospect of studying.

Harry had never done a study group, but it looked interesting. Ron had groaned at the idea of more studying -with a plan and meetings and everyone needed to help others with their best subjects. Hermione had been both ecstatic and horrified: the former because of the idea of more studying, of course, the latter because maybe studying with others could slow her down. She had quickly leaned towards ecstatic when Tracey had complimented her hair and suggested potions to help style them and Millicent had started a long and enthusiastic conversation about cats, kneazles and other felines. She had told Harry -Saturday evening while they were relaxing in the common room- that she had never had real girl friends: her dorm mates were such a close-knitted group of friends and had interests so different from hers she had always felt a bit left out. She hoped so much that this new thing, this strange happy and promising new thing, would go well. Harry had hoped so too, had hugged his friend tightly and suggested he braided her hair.

“Oh Harry! You always know how to make me feel better, thank you so much!” She said, eyes shiny and a blinding smile splitting her dark skin. Ron patted her knee from where he was sitting on the floor, playing a chess match against himself -“It’s the only way I don’t win after four moves! C’mon Harry, you and ‘Mione know you’re both shit at this!”- and smiled a bit awkwardly. He always leaved the more emotional stuff to Harry, not that the raven-haired boy was so much better at it.

Sunday morning saw Harry up and about too early for any normal human being. Not that it was his fault: he had dreamed of his mother’s death again, and had woken up with a harsh green light blinking behind his lids and sweaty pyjamas sticking to his skin. A shower had taken care of the problem and had calmed his racing heart, but he couldn’t fall asleep again. It was just after five, a sliver of sunrise had started peeking from behind the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. Harry had dressed comfortably, huddled under the Invisibility Cloak and tip-toed out of the Tower. It wasn’t prohibited to wander around in the mornings, but he’d rather not be seen by eventual teachers or students. He’d decided he’d wander around until it was time for breakfast -Ron knew not to panic if he didn’t find him in his bed in the morning- and then meet his friends to eat. He hadn’t expected to come across a little -not really- known first year.

“I’m telling you Tory! That’s what bad muggles do, do you want to be like them?”

“Muggles are all bad, don’t be stupid!”

“No, no, I’m telling you! Harry said so, that bad muggles hurt people because of their skin colour and that blood status is the same! Like, like… you can’t change how you’re born, right?” Vivian was doing that thing where she puffed up her cheeks like a little hamster, and she was stomping on the ground, clearly firm in her desire to convince her friend. Harry thought it was sweet, she was sweet: a few days after his talk and she’d probably reflected it so much she had come to conclusions he hadn’t made explicit all on her own. And now she was trying to convince another little snakelet. So cute. Probably Millicent had helped, she’d confessed that she had been trying to make her see reason and she’d told Harry she would talk to her as well.

“Harry, Harry, Harry… you always talk about him now!”

“Yes well, and what’s the problem with that? I clearly remember you going on and on about Harry Potter when you were five!”

“That’s… that’s not true!” the second Slytherin -Astoria Greengrass if Harry remembered correctly- was turning a shade of red that could probably put a Weasley to shame, and Harry would have laughed at her if he wasn’t a bit embarrassed as well. Being famous was still so embarrassing! But he couldn’t just walk away from the two girls now. He wanted to kick himself for it, but -just as he now felt an extreme protectiveness of Vivian that maybe could almost reach his protect-baby-sister-in-spirits-Ginny-at-all-costs levels of protectiveness- he felt obligated to teach her how to get away from the grip of blood purist ideas. And now that she was trying to spread the word around… well, he’d finish what he had started. He was nothing if a stubborn Gryffindor, he could conquer other tiny cute snakelets and their racist ideology.

He took off his cloak and quickly hid it in his pockets, and approached the two Slytherins, who were now scowling at each other, neither refusing to back down. Convincing Astoria that what she was taught was wrong was going to be harder, wasn’t it? Amazing. Truly amazing. Lucky him that Divination homework could be just invented out of the blue because he’d need the time.

“Hi Vivi! And Astoria, right? I heard a bit of your conversation there, and isn’t it a bit early to be talking about such complicated things?”

The girls both jump a foot in surprise. Astoria realizes just who’s talked to them and reddens even more, trying and failing to put on an unaffected air. Vivian brightens so much when she sees Harry, the passing thought that maybe Ron is right and he’ll soon have a sect of little cute fans ready to start a cult in his name -he shakes the idea off immediately, too creepy- flashes in the third year’s mind.

“Harry! Hi! We were going to the Great Hall to get the freshest croissant but we got a bit delayed… oops. It was all Astoria’s fault anyway!”

“Hey!” the blonde exclaimed pouting “It’s you and your crazy ideas!”

“They’re not crazy!” Vivian frowned, then turned sharply towards Harry, grabbing his sleeve and pulling a bit, much like a little kid asking their parents for sweets “Harry, tell her! Tell her what you told me, I’m trying to make her understand but she doesn’t! She won’t!

“Vivi…”

“No one of my friends wants to listen to me! They’re all wrong and they don’t see it!” She was getting worringly teary and trembly in the lips, and the last thing Harry wanted was for her to cry. Their interactions already had too many crying moments. He panickily eyed Astoria, who had turned away from them and who was now standing straight as a rod, with her arms crossed and her nose up, clear in her desire to ignore them and retain her -her parents’ actually- ideas. What could he do? It had been much easier with Vivian: she was distressed, thus her walls were mostly down, and it came to her as a shock, and her sister had started hinting at it already. From what he knew, Daphne Greengrass was the picture perfect pureblood, not as bad as Malfoy but clear in her dislike for “inferior” witches. What to do what to do?

TOCK!

Hogwarts Clock struck 8.00 -and how was it 8.00 already?- and that meant Hermione would be waiting for him in the Great Hall in a matter of minutes as usual. He didn’t have time to deal with racism awareness talks! But Vivian was looking at him with the most convincing puppy eyes ever, and he couldn’t just refuse her. He’d feel too bad! And really, convincing Astoria would be a chore, and if he succeeded… he just knew his little hamster would start bringing all her friends to him to convert them. Help.

Idea! Genius! Well, mostly, it would still be a bit difficult but… at least time-saving.

“Listen Vivi, I don’t really have time right now, my friends are waiting for me, but… well, if you want we can do this sometime during the week, and you can bring all your other friends as well, so… you know…”

“YES! That’s amazing! Thank you thank you thank you!”

When he told Ron and Hermione he was already regretting his promise, and a feeling of dread was spreading in him at the idea of giving a class -sort of- to a bunch of little Slytherins. Hermione had been supportive, of course, and she thought it was an amazing idea, and by the time the sun set and Sunday ended she had plans and ideas and lists ready for it. Ron had laughed so hard he choked on his breakfast, then proceeded to murmur The little club of Harry-loving ducklings is growing! with glee every few minutes. Blaise, Millicent and Tracy had been on board, no questions asked, and converted their second study group session into an event-planning madness.

All in all, it had been a good weekend.