Chapter Text
The next two weeks were decidedly miserable for Harry. Professor Snape’s detentions were no joke - he had Harry scrubbing cauldrons for hours on end, or made him write lines until his hand cramped. He barely had any free time, as he had to use what time he wasn’t spending in detention on homework.
It also meant that he barely had any time to continue his research into wandless magic. Luckily, Tracey had started to come to their library group every now and then, and she was very happy to help Blaise decode the book while Harry desperately tried to stay on top of his schoolwork.
Luckily for Harry, he was finally speaking to Sirius again. His godfather had been nothing but supportive ever since Harry had written back to him, even when he’d heard about his fight with Draco. Unlike his mum and dad, who had firmly expressed their disappointment, Sirius had told him he was proud of Harry for standing up for his friend.
By the time Harry had finished his detentions, it was well into October. He couldn’t relax yet, however. Dan had sent him another letter, reminding him that he needed to sell the cigarettes and send the money back to Katie. In the chaos of his fight with Draco and the subsequent detentions, Harry had completely forgotten about it.
He had no clue where to start, however. Back in Hornford, he hadn’t been in charge of actually finding customers - he just went to the houses with Dan and kept watch.
Harry started off by trying to listen in on the older students, but didn’t have much luck. Slytherin students were remarkably paranoid, and whenever they noticed Harry listening in they would scowl at him and move their conversations somewhere else. He couldn’t really spy on the other years either - they were equally as suspicious of a random first-year eavesdropping on them.
While Harry pondered what to do, he sat in the stands and watched the Slytherins practising Quidditch. He really missed flying properly; in Madam Hooch’s lessons, they were barely allowed to take their feet off the ground since Neville had his accident. Harry couldn’t wait until second year when he could finally try out. Maybe he’d have some luck selling the cigarettes at the afterparty of the Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch match, but that was in November, and Harry wanted to sort this out before then.
Feeling a bit hopeless, he began to walk back inside to get started on his Charms homework. He’d probably have to write Dan back and tell him that he just couldn’t do it and accept the consequences. As Harry made his way past the greenhouses, however, he thought he could smell smoke. Confused, he looked around, trying to see where it was coming from. He could faintly hear whispers coming from behind Greenhouse 5. Harry silently creeped over, trying to eavesdrop.
“Is this your last pack?” a boy asked.
“Yeah,” said a girl. “Flitwick confiscated all of Fawcett’s. I’ve got to ration them until the next Hogsmeade weekend.”
“Ugh,” Silence followed, and another cloud of smoke wafted around the corner.
“Let's go back in,” the boy sighed. “I’ve got a Transfiguration essay to do for tomorrow.”
“Odus evanesco.” The girl muttered, causing the smell of smoke to vanish.
Harry gulped as he heard footsteps heading his way. He looked around for somewhere to hide, but there wasn’t anywhere for him to go.
Two older Hufflepuffs rounded the corner and jumped when they set eyes on him.
“Are you Oliver Potter?” the girl asked, looking nervous.
“Wrong twin,” Harry sighed, lifting his fringe to show the scar. “I’m Harry.”
“What are you doing, sneaking around?” the boy asked angrily. “Get lost.”
“I thought I could help you with your problem,” Harry said nervously. “I’ve got a pack of cigarettes and I can get you more.”
The girl scoffed. “A firstie like you? Please.”
The boy looked interested, however. “How much?”
Harry frantically converted currency in his head.
“I’ll give you the pack for 13 sickles.” he said. The Hufflepuffs glanced at each other.
“Fine, then,” the boy said. “Meet us here, same time tomorrow, and we’ll pay you.”
“Great,” Harry said. “See you then.”
As the Hufflepuffs walked off, Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He was so glad he was finally getting rid of the cigarettes.
The next day, Harry’s heart was pounding as he left the dungeons with the carton in his pocket. Blaise had asked him where he was going, and he had mumbled an incoherent excuse that made him sound even more suspicious. He felt like Snape was going to swoop around the corner at any moment, make Harry turn out his pockets, then expel him.
By the time Harry got to the greenhouses, he thought he could cry with relief. The Hufflepuffs were already there, looking a bit impatient.
“There you are!” the girl narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you got them?”
“Yep,” Harry said, reaching into the pockets of his robes and pulling out the carton.
“Great!” the girl said, taking them and thrusting the sickles into Harry’s hand. He quickly counted them - they were the 13 promised.
The boy was frowning.
“I don’t recognise the brand,” he said. “Are these muggle?”
“Yeah,” Harry said.
“Wicked!” the girl said. “Nicola told me they were more potent.”
“They sure are,” Harry said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Purebloods.
“Let us know if you get any more, yeah?” the boy said. “If you want us, ask for Mike and Darcy. We’re fifth-years.”
“Will do!” Harry said, before turning away to go back into the castle. He felt jumpy, but also exhilarated. He went straight to his dorm to write a letter to Dan, telling him about his success. He added some muggle cash into the envelope for Katie, feeling quite pleased with himself.
He grinned as he placed the sickles into his trunk. He could get Jasmine something really nice for her birthday with this - some more books, or perhaps a practice beaters set, since she’d shown interest in the position. Harry could even start planning ahead for Blaise’s birthday in December, if he wanted to. He decided to ask Tracey to lend him one of those owl-order catalogues so he could get it sorted.
The morning of Halloween, Harry was in an unusually good mood. He didn’t have any incomplete homework, he'd finally figured out how to transfigure a beetle into a button the night before and there was going to be a feast that night!
Of course, his good mood immediately vanished as the morning post arrived. A letter from Sirius had been delivered.
Dear Harry,
How has your October been? I hope everything is alright and that you’re not getting into too much trouble.
I've gotten some news. The Dursleys have finally been sentenced, and your aunt and uncle got four years in prison each. I don't think it's enough, but there you go. Your cousin will be going to live with Vernon's sister, Marjorie, so you won't have to see him unless you want to.
I hope this news isn't too upsetting. If you need to talk, you can go to McGonagall, Pomfrey, even Snape and they'll be understanding. Don’t keep all your emotions bottled up - it’s not healthy.
Please write back soon so I know you're okay.
Sirius
Harry put the letter away, hands shaking. He honestly didn't know how to feel about it. He hadn't expected the Dursleys to be found guilty, let alone actually go to prison. He supposed on some level, he still felt like it was his fault.
Harry also felt bad for Dudley - he'd gotten his cousin’s parents put in prison, after all. Harry didn't particularly like his cousin, but he knew how it felt to be dumped on a relative since your parents weren’t around. Aunt Marge adored Dudley, so it wasn’t exactly the same thing, but Harry still felt for him.
Maybe I should write to him , Harry thought, though he almost immediately dismissed the idea. Dudley must hate him right now. He’d probably just make everything worse, like he always did.
Harry didn’t know how he got through his morning lessons. He couldn’t pay attention to a word of what the teachers were telling him, and he lost about twenty points for Slytherin for being distracted. Blaise had noticed something was clearly wrong, but Harry refused to tell him what was going on. His friend could never know about that part of his life.
In Charms that afternoon, when Harry couldn’t even manage the Levitation Charm because of how upset he was, he decided that he couldn’t take it anymore. He raised his hand.
“Sir, can I please go to the Hospital Wing?” Harry asked, trying his best to look ill. “I’ve got a terrible migraine.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. They’d had Defence Against the Dark Arts before lunch, which always gave Harry a throbbing headache. He assumed it was because of all the garlic Professor Quirrell had in his classroom.
“Of course, Mr Potter!” Professor Flitwick squeaked. “Feel better soon!”
“Cover for me in History of Magic,” Harry muttered to Blaise as he packed up his things. “I’m taking the afternoon off.”
“Will do,” Blaise whispered. “Binns wouldn’t notice, anyway.”
Harry trudged through the corridors, trying to decide what to do with himself. He had no plans to actually go to the Hospital Wing, but he couldn’t exactly go to the library or the common room in the middle of the school day. He just needed somewhere to mope for a while.
Harry was considering going up to the Owlery and visiting Hedwig when he faintly heard a sniffle coming from inside of a disused classroom. He paused, not sure if he was hearing things, but he heard it again.
Curious, Harry stuck his head around the corner and saw Neville curled up in a corner, head buried in his arms. He looked up, when he heard Harry come inside.
“Harry?” he asked. His eyes were red and puffy. “What are you doing here?”
“Bunking,” Harry replied nonchalantly, shutting the door behind him. “Then I overheard you. What’s wrong?”
Neville sighed.
“It’s the ten-year anniversary today,” he murmured. It took Harry a moment to realise what he was talking about before he remembered. Itt was Halloween, the day Neville’s parents had been killed.
“Oh, Neville, I’m so sorry,” he said, putting an arm around the other boy’s shoulders.
“Thanks,” he said, with a weak smile. “I don’t know why I’m so upset really. It’s not like I remember them, really. I was too young. The anniversary just gets me thinking about how different my life would be if I had them, you know?”
“Yeah.” Harry didn’t entirely understand, but he remembered those lonely nights in his cupboard at Privet Drive, back when he’d thought his parents were dead.
His stomach lurched as he thought about his relatives again. Harry tried to imagine them behind bars, in those orange jumpsuits he’d seen on the television, but he just couldn’t picture Vernon and Petunia that way. They had always been so uptight and image-conscious, it just felt wrong .
“Do you remember anything about that night?” Neville asked, distracting Harry from his thoughts. He looked back at Neville with a confused frown.
“The night they died. Sometimes I think I can remember a bunch of green light, but other times I think I just made it up, since that was what Gran told me the Killing Curse looked like.”
Harry sat and thought about it.
“No, I don’t think you did make it up,” he said slowly. “Back when I lived with my aunt and uncle, I used to get these nightmares about this green light. Do you think that was the Killing Curse?”
“Yeah,” Neville said, white-faced. “It probably was.”
They both sat in silence for a while, trying to process it.
“I wonder if Ollie remembers,” Neville said after a while. Harry made a disgusted noise.
“Who knows? Even if he doesn't, I bet he’d say he did anyway. He’d get even more attention if he could remember vanquishing the Dark Lord.”
Neville stared at the stone floors of the classroom, looking even sadder than before. Harry realised he was probably making things worse.
“How about we do something fun for a bit?” he suggested. Maybe distracting Neville would be helpful. “I’ve got my charms textbook with me, and this book on jinxes that Blaise lent me. We can try some of the spells out on each other.”
Neville looked doubtful.
“I’m not sure,” he said hesitantly. “I’m pants at most spells. It won’t be that much fun for you if I can’t really do anything.”
“You are not!” Harry said indignantly. “You’re way better at magic than you think, you just need a little bit more time to get things, that’s all.”
“I just don’t think I am-”
“Entomorphis!” Long, furry antennae popped out from Neville’s head. He couldn’t help his laugher at Neville’s shocked face. Eventually, the other boy started laughing along, too.
“Finite incantatem!” Harry gasped, clutching his sides, and the feelers retracted into Neville’s head.
“See, now I need to get you back for that,” he said with a sly grin. “Give me that book.”
They spent a long time casting various jinxes and hexes at each other in the classroom. There was a particularly funny moment where Neville had given Harry antlers, but didn’t know how to reverse it. They spent half an hour trying to find the counter-curse. Harry swore that by the end he was actually starting to think like a deer.
By the time they started running out of jinxes to cast, it was dark outside. Harry watched the rain pound against the glass, trying to see if he could make out the lake.
“It’s a shame,” Neville sighed. “I wanted to go down to the greenhouses.”
“There’s always tomorrow,” Harry said. “I’ll come, if you want?”
“That would be nice,” Neville smiled.
“Hey, it must be dinnertime by now,” Harry said, checking his watch. “Do you wanna go down to the feast and get something to eat?”
“Nah,” Neville said, staring out into the storm. “I still don’t really want to see anyone. Not today.”
Harry put his arm around his shoulder and squeezed, still not quite sure what to say.
“Thanks for spending the day with me, by the way,” Neville gave him a small smile. “Gran always says I shouldn’t mope today, but I can’t help it sometimes.”
“No problem,” Harry said. Truthfully, Neville had distracted him, too.
Just then, a horrific smell started to fill the room. Neville wrinkled his nose.
“Ugh!” he said. “What is that?”
“No clue,” Harry pinched his nose, but he could still somehow taste the stench.
“Odus evanesco.” He tried, casting the spell he’d seen the fifth-years do a few weeks ago to get rid of the smoke smell, but didn’t have any luck.
“Should we leave?” Neville asked. Harry shook his head.
“Fred and George probably set off some Dungbombs in the hallway or something. It’ll be worse outside. Let’s just stay put.”
“Should we try that projectile jinx?” Neville suggested. “It looks fun.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ve got some parchment we can use.”
Twenty minutes later, after a competition between Harry and Neville to see who could flick the balls of crumpled-up parchment furthest, the door burst open. A livid-looking Snape was stalked in.
“What on earth are you two doing in here?” he hissed. “You were expressly told to go back to your common rooms! How dare you!”
“But, sir, what do you-” Harry began, before Snape cut him off. He grabbed Harry and Neville by the arms and yanked them to their feet.
“These are the types of Gryffindorish traits I’d expect from your father, Potter! Hunting down a mountain troll, really ! You’re first-years. The absolute audacity -”
“Sir!” Harry bellowed. Snape fell silent, looking even angrier.
“What, Potter?” he hissed.
“We don’t know anything about a troll, sir,” Harry mumbled, staring at his feet.
“I suppose I was mistaken,” he said, eyes flashing dangerously. “I wasn’t aware that your ears didn’t work! This whole time I just assumed it was your brain. How else would you have missed the very clear announcement from Professor Dumbledore instructing you to go back to your common rooms ?”
“We weren’t at the feast, sir,” Harry said.
“Why not?”
“It was because of me, s-sir,” Neville stuttered. Harry looked at his friend, shocked. Neville was terrified of Snape; it wasn't like him to ever talk to the Potions Professor if he could help it.
“I was upset. It’s the anniversary of my p-parents dying. Harry was staying with me.”
“Oh.” Snape seemed strangely deflated, somehow.
“Well, the two of you need to get back to your common rooms immediately,” he snapped, scowling once again. “The troll has been neutralised, but I don’t want you two wandering about unsupervised.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said, scrambling out of the room, Neville hot on his heels.
“And five points from Gryffindor for skipping dinner!” Snape yelled as they left.
“What’s his problem?” Harry huffed once they were out of earshot. Neville shrugged.
“I’m just glad it wasn’t more. He’s probably upset about the troll.”
“About that! A troll? How did that even get in?” Harry asked incredulously. “I thought they were meant to be really stupid.”
“Who knows?” Neville said. “Maybe it smelt food from the feast or something.”
They reached the entrance hall, where they had to separate to go to their separate common rooms.
“Are you okay to go up there?” Harry asked. “I don’t mind sneaking off somewhere else.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” Neville said. “Thanks for staying with me.”
“Hey, it was no problem!” Harry waved a hand dismissively. “See you tomorrow?”
“See you!”
Harry made his way down to the dungeons, ready to just have a quiet evening to himself. The rest of Slytherin had other ideas. They immediately mobbed Harry when he came into the common room.
“Where were you?”
“Did you see the troll?”
“Did you fight it?”
“The troll’s gone!” Harry shouted loudly. “Snape said. I didn’t see anything.”
Everybody cheered and went back to eating, although some of the other first-year girls were still bombarding Harry with questions. Blaise, who had noticed Harry’s discomfort, intervened.
“Alright, everybody calm down!” he ordered. “He didn’t see the troll, it’s gone, no more questions.”
He handed Harry a plate of food. “Dorm?”
“Yes, please,” Harry said gratefully.
When Harry got down to breakfast the next day, he immediately noticed something was off. All of the first-years were whispering to each other and glancing at the Gryffindors, who looked subdued.
"What's going on?" Harry asked.
"Granger got attacked by the troll last night," Tracey told him. Harry felt his heart sink. "Apparently she was in the girls bathroom and didn't hear the announcement at the feast."
"Is she okay?" Harry asked. He hadn't seen much of Granger over the last few months - she occasionally shushed him and his friends in the library and seemed like a bit of a know-it-all. Still, he remembered their time together on the train. She hadn't been too bad then, and he hoped she was alright.
"Yeah, the teachers got to her before anything too bad happened, but the troll cracked her skull or something," Tracey told him. “She’s in the hospital wing right now. So is Weasley. He snuck off to try and rescue her or something. Honestly, why would he try and take on a mountain troll? Gryffindors are ridiculous."
Harry stared at his porridge. Suddenly, he didn’t feel all that hungry.
In their morning Potions lesson, the remaining Gryffindors were quite and pale-faced. They weren’t the ones - Ollie also seemed quite upset, presumably about Ron. When Draco started to make fun of Neville, who had melted yet another cauldron without Hermione there to help him, Ollie looked ready to hit Draco. Harry couldn’t quite overhear their hissed argument, but the tension was palpable.
Snape was also in a terrible mood. He went around the classroom, snapping and deducting points from Gryffindor every other minute. By the end of the lesson, he had brought Lavender Brown to tears and had put Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas in detention for daring to stand up for her. The Slytherins weren’t immune to his criticisms either; Harry thought Snape was ready to knock their cauldron over after Blaise accidentally added the powdered adder fangs too early. The entire room seemed to sigh with relief when the bell finally rang.
"Did you notice he was limping?" Blaise asked as they left the classroom.
"No," Harry said. "I wonder why?"
As they made their way out of the dungeons to go to their next lessons, Harry could hear footsteps pounding on the stone floor. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Neville running towards him and Blaise.
"Harry!" he said, huffing and puffing. "After lunch, can we go to the hospital wing instead of the greenhouses? I want to visit Hermione."
"Really?" Harry frowned. "I didn't know you two were close."
"I mean, we're not really," Neville admitted, "But she's still really nice to me and I think she’d appreciate it. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, I just thought I should let you know so you don’t wait around for me after lunch."
"Harry! We need to get to Charms!" Blaise called.
“No, I’ll come,” Harry said. Neville seemed keen, so he didn’t see why not. "See you after lunch then?"
"See you!”
After the morning lessons were over, Harry met up with Neville and they started the trek up to the hospital wing.
“Do you know anymore about what happened?” he asked. “Tracey told me Hermione was attacked and that Ron was there, but not much else.”
“Yeah, a little bit,” Neville said. “Lavender filled me in. Apparently, Ron was really nasty to Hermione, he said she had no friends or something. She’d hidden in the girls’ toilets to be alone.”
Harry grimaced.
“Of course Ron would say something like that,” he muttered. Ron was friends with Ollie, after all, who was quite cruel. Harry had never forgotten Ron’s involvement in the pool incident.
“He did try and make up for it a bit, though,” Neville said. “After he heard about the troll, he snuck off to go find her and they fought it in the bathroom together.”
“Really?” Harry asked, surprised. His opinion of Ron rose slightly.
“Yeah. He had a couple of cuts and scratches, nothing as bad as Hermione, but Madam Pomfrey still kept him overnight. He got discharged this morning but she still gave him the morning off lessons.”
Just then, the boys arrived at the hospital wing. Neville raised a fist and rapped on the door. The mediwitch Madam Pomfrey quickly opened it. She looked at them through narrowed eyes, and pursed her lips.
“What is it?” she asked. “Are either of you injured?”
“No,” Neville said, “We were just wondering if we could visit Hermione.”
Her face softened slightly.
“I suppose I could allow that,” she said. “No more than twenty minutes, though. She needs her rest.”
Neville and Harry made their way inside the hospital wing and over to Hermione, who had a large, white bandage tied around her head.
“Neville?” she asked curiously. “Harry? What are you two doing here?”
“We just thought you might want some company,” Neville said. “How are you feeling?
“Not too bad,” Hermione answered. “My head doesn’t hurt as much as it did last night. I’m just lucky the professors showed up when they did. Brain injuries aren’t something you should mess about with - I’ve read all about them, particularly in muggle medical textbooks. I suppose it’s different for wizards though. Isn’t magic great? Anyway, how were classes? Did I miss much? Madam Pomfrey isn’t letting me start catching up on any missed work, she says I’ll strain myself.”
Hermione broke off to scowl at her bedsheets.
“You didn’t miss much,” Neville promised. “We were doing forgetfulness potions. I’d lend you my notes, but they’re probably not that helpful.”
“You can have mine, if you want?” Harry offered. Hermione beamed.
“Thanks! That’s really nice of you,” she said, before frowning. “Why are you offering to help me, though? You’re a Slytherin. I thought you weren’t supposed to help Gryffindors.”
“I don’t really care about that,” he said. “I think I should be able to talk to anyone I want! That’s why we all spend so much time in the library. It’s the only place I get to see Neville otherwise.”
“Oh yes, I remember you guys all sitting in there,” Hermione said. Harry also remembered her shushing them quite a lot, but chose not to mention that.
“You can always sit with us, if you want,” Neville said boldly. “I know you spend a lot of time in the library, too.”
“Really?” Hermione’s eyes lit up. “That would be okay with all of you?”
“I’m fine with it,” Harry said. “And Blaise and Tracey wouldn’t care.”
Oh, that would be lovely, then! Do you all read a lot? I love books, but I never have anyone to talk about them with.”
“I do a little bit,” Harry said. “So does Tracey. I think you two would get along.”
Once again, Harry was distinctly reminded of Jasmine, which was always a good thing - he was quite fond of her, after all. So, from that moment on, she joined their little group.