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Chapter Text

“You’re sure you’ve got everything?” Lily asked anxiously.

“Yes, Mum.” Ollie rolled his eyes. “I checked, like, a million times!”

“And you made sure Harry packed all his things?” Lily demanded, turning on Sirius.

“Of course.” Sirius assured her. She still didn’t seem satisfied, but settled for fiddling with her shirt collar anxiously. Lily had worked herself into a state over Harry and Ollie leaving for Hogwarts. She’s probably more worried about Ollie than me, Harry thought, trying not to feel resentful. Lily was the main one in charge of his brother’s political image, so they spent a lot of time together at Ministry events. She was bound to like him more than Harry. Besides, he had Sirius here for him.

The whole family had trekked out to King’s Cross for their departure. James, Lily and a tearful Jasmine were there, as well as Sirius and his daughter, Adhara. The platform was full of similar families saying goodbye to their children. He didn’t recognise most of them, although Harry spotted Neville with his stern-looking grandmother.

Lily reached over and hugged both Harry and Ollie.

“Mum!” Ollie protested, trying to wriggle away. “People will see!” Harry was just as mortified.

“Oh, just let me hug my boys before you go off to Hogwarts!” Lily said. “I won’t be seeing you until the Christmas holidays!”

James, much to Harry’s relief, was a bit more reserved. 

“Have a good time, boys.” He said, ruffling Harry’s hair. “You’d better tell me all about the mischief you get up to!”

“Oh, don’t encourage them, James!” Lily scolded. “But do make sure you write, okay?”

“Yes, Mum.” they said.

“I wish I could come with you!” Jasmine wailed. Harry gave her a hug, not caring if anyone saw him this time.

“It’s going to fly by!” he said soothingly. “I’ll write to you all the time, okay?”

“Yeah, me too.” Ollie butted in. Harry tried not to scowl at him. He barely spoke to Jasmine.

“I’m gonna get on the train now, me and Ron are gonna meet up and get a compartment together. I’ll see you at Christmas!” Ollie quickly slipped off so that Lily couldn’t ambush him with another hug. She sighed mournfully.

“Have a good term, Harry.” Sirius said, squeezing him on the shoulder.

“See you at Christmas, Harry!” Adhara chirped. 

“See you guys!” Harry smiled. He gave the group one last wave before heading off to find Neville. Like Ron and Ollie, the two had agreed to sit together and he didn’t want the train to be full before he got on.

After searching the length of the train, Harry finally found Neville sitting in a compartment near the end of the scarlet steam engine. He wasn’t alone, however - a bushy-haired girl sat across from him, head buried in a book. 

“Oh hi, Harry!” Neville said, hopping onto the platform. 

“Hi!” he said, glancing back up at the girl. She hadn’t looked up from her book. 

“Who’s she?” he whispered.

“Dunno.” Neville whispered back. “She just asked if she could sit there and didn’t say anything else.”

“Weird. Oh well.” Harry started trying to lug his trunk onto the train, but it was too heavy.

“Neville, give us a hand?” he asked breathlessly. The other boy jumped into action, and between the two of them they managed to shove the trunk onto the luggage rack. Once the trunk had been put away, Harry placed Hedwig next to it. He gently brushed a finger over her feathers, and she hooted sleepily. 

All of the commotion had drawn the attention of the girl, who was now staring at them. 

“Oh, hello,” she said, “My name’s Hermione Granger. Who are you two?”

“I’m Neville Longbottom.” Neville said, wiping his forehead.

“Harry Potter.” he said, reaching out a hand. Hermione shook it.

“Are you related to Oliver Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived?” she asked eagerly.

“Er, yeah, he’s my twin.” Harry said.

“I’ve read all about him.” Hermione said self-importantly. “They talk about him in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. I tried to do as much background reading as I could, you see. I’m the first witch in my family. The letter was quite the shock, but I’m awfully pleased. Isn’t it so strange that a whole magical world is living right under our noses?” She said all of this very quickly, barely taking a breath. 

“Yeah, I thought it was really weird when I found out.” Harry said. Hermione gave him a strange look. 

“Aren’t you from a magical family, though?” she asked curiously. Harry winced. Of course, she didn’t know. A muggleborn wouldn’t have seen the news when The Daily Prophet had blasted his family drama to the whole wizarding world. He didn’t particularly want to explain the Dursleys, though.

Luckily for him, the conversation was cut short. The train began moving, and he, Neville and Hermione crowded around the window for a last glimpse of their families. Harry saw Sirius and his parents waving manically, and noticed Ginny Weasley trying to run after the train, shouting goodbye to her brothers. Soon enough, the Hogwarts Express rounded a bend and the station disappeared from view. Harry felt a lurch of excitement; he was actually going to Hogwarts! 

Hermione sighed. “Goodbyes are rather sad, aren’t they?” she said, staring into the distance wistfully. “Going to Hogwarts is very exciting, but I’m going to miss my parents an awful lot,” 

“I’m going to miss my sister loads.” Harry said truthfully. He wished Jasmine was his twin, not Ollie. That way, they’d be going to Hogwarts at the same time. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No, it’s just me.” Hermione said. 

“Same, here.” Neville chimed in. “I always wanted to have a sibling, though.”  

Hermione shut the book she was reading and slid it to the side. Harry noticed Hogwarts: A History printed on the front in gleaming gold letters.

“I read that earlier this summer!” he said excitedly. “It’s good, isn’t it?” 

Hermione nodded vigorously. “I’ve read it three times already.” she informed them. “I wanted to know all about Hogwarts before I came. Do the staircases really move?”

“Apparently, yeah.” Harry said, trying to hide his shock. Three times! He’d never thought he would meet a bigger bookworm than Jasmine. “Did you see about the enchanted ceiling, too?”

They spent a long time discussing the book, with Neville occasionally chiming in. Harry didn’t mind this girl; she was a bit bossy, but nice enough. 

At about half past twelve, a friendly-looking lady slid open the door to their compartment. 

“Anything off the trolley, dears?” she asked. Harry went out into the corridor to inspect what she had. Sirius had given him some money that morning to buy some sweets.

“Food’s the best way to make friends!” he had told Harry. He decided to buy a selection of his favourite sweets to share with the others. He was sure that Hermione hadn’t tried a lot of them before, since she was a muggleborn. Neville also bought a few things of his own.

“What are those?” Hermione asked curiously as Harry bit into a pumpkin pasty. “I’ve not seen them before.”

“Wizarding sweets!” Harry said excitedly. “They’re way better than the muggle ones. Want to try anything?” Hermione shook her head.

“My parents don't like me eating sugar.” she said primly. “They’re dentists.”

“Come on, please?” Harry begged, opening a box of Every Flavour Beans and waving them tantalisingly under her nose. “I can’t possibly finish all these on my own.” Hermione hesitated. 

“Oh fine. I guess a few wouldn’t hurt.” She took a bean and popped it in her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully.

“Did you get a nice one?” Neville asked. “When they say every flavour, they really mean it. I got rotten fruit, once.”

“I think it’s bubblegum.” Hermione said. Just then, Neville let out a choked cry.

“Trevor! He’s gone missing!” 

“Are you sure?” Harry asked. “Maybe he’s hidden in the luggage.” They checked, but Trevor was nowhere to be found.

“He must have hopped out of the compartment when the trolley witch came by!” Neville said tearfully.

“We’re going to find him!” Hermione reassured. “Let's all go from compartment to compartment and ask if anyone’s seen him.” Harry nodded in agreement, although he felt a bit nervous. That meant talking to the older years. He squared his shoulders with determination - it was for Neville.

Luckily, the first few compartments contained people he recognised. He saw the girl from the robe shop, Susan, who was sitting with a bunch of other giggling first year girls. He also ran into the Weasley twins, who dared Harry to pet their friend Lee’s tarantula. Other than that, the other students barely looked at Harry when he asked about Neville’s toad. The only people who actually paid attention to him always asked if he was Oliver Potter. By the time Harry had gotten to the other end of the train, he was thoroughly sick of being mistaken for his brother.

He opened the compartment and saw a whole group of students who he assumed were first years. They were already wearing their Hogwarts robes. 

A pale, pointy-faced boy, who seemed to be in charge, looked at Harry with a calculating glint in his eyes.

“Are you Oliver Potter? The Boy-Who-Lived?” he asked curiously.

“Wrong twin.” Harry said shortly. “I’m his brother, Harry. Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost his.” The interested look on the boy’s face was quickly replaced with one of disdain.

“I’ve heard all about you. ” he said, not even attempting to hide his disgust. “You’re the Squib, aren’t you?”

“I’m not a Squib.” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Have you seen a toad or not?” 

“You know, my father says your sort shouldn’t be allowed to attend Hogwarts,” the boy carried on, completely ignoring Harry. “I suppose it’s what happens though, when purebloods pollute their lines with muggle blood-”

Harry slammed the compartment door shut so hard that it rattled, before storming off down the train. He took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. He didn’t want to lose control of his magic and blow something up on his first day. That would certainly make a bad impression.

He stalked back to his compartment, not wanting to talk to anyone else on the train. Luckily, Neville and Hermione were already back and Trevor was stored safely in his tank.

“Did something happen?” Neville asked worriedly. Harry sighed and tried to wipe the scowl from his face before telling Neville and Hermione the whole story. 

“What an arrogant prat!” Neville exclaimed, surprising Harry. He wasn’t usually so passionate.

“What did you say he looked like again?” he asked. Harry described the boy to Neville, who shook his head.

“Sounds like Draco Malfoy.” He said grimly. “His whole family are bigots. I’m sorry you had to deal with him.” 

Harry sighed. “I just hate when people call me a Squib, you know?”

“Well, you definitely can’t be one.” Hermione chimed in unexpectedly. “You wouldn’t have gotten a Hogwarts letter, otherwise. I read all about it.” Harry smiled at her gratefully.

“Well, we probably won’t be seeing much of him, anyway.” Neville said. “His whole family’s Slytherin. I bet Malfoy’s going to end up there, too.”

“What house are you two hoping for?” Hermione asked. “I’d like to be in Gryffindor, that’s where all the great wizards like Dumbledore come from. Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad, either.”

“I’m definitely going to be a Hufflepuff,” Neville said miserably. “My parents were both Gryffindors, but I’ll never get in. I’m gonna be stuck in the house of duffers.”

“Well, I read that Hufflepuffs value fair play and loyalty.” Hermione said. “They seem like quite a good place to be.”

“I suppose,” Neville said, not looking too much happier. “But my Gran really wants me to be in Gryffindor.” Harry sent the other boy a sympathetic look. Mrs Longbottom’s standards were almost impossible for someone to live up to.

“My dad and my godfather think I’ll be a Gryffindor,” Harry said. “They both were, and so was my mum. She thinks I’ll get into Ravenclaw, though, and I’d be happy with either.” Secretly, Harry also wondered what Slytherin would be like. He’d read that it was the house of cunning and ambition, which he liked the sound of. Still, if everyone in Slytherin was like that Malfoy boy, Harry didn’t think he would like it there.

“We’re getting closer to school.” Hermione said, gesturing towards the window. Harry looked and noticed the sky was rapidly darkening, and the countryside had morphed into tall, jagged mountains. 

“You two should get changed, I’ll step outside.” Hermione was already wearing her Hogwarts robes.

As Neville and Harry pulled on their uniform, a voice echoed through the train. “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be brought in separately.” Harry and Neville exchanged a nervous look. They slipped outside into the hallway, which was rapidly filling with students. Hermione was standing by the compartment door, looking just as frightened.

The train started to slow, before completely coming to a halt. Harry was carried by the sea of students out onto the platform and looked about, trying to see where he should go.

“Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here!” A large voice boomed. Harry looked around for the source and saw a tall, bearded man who was carrying a lamp. He was definitely the tallest person Harry had ever seen, and fairly dwarfed the first years huddled around him. Harry noticed Ollie and Ron standing to one side. Ollie’s chin was jutted out, like he was scared and trying not to show it.

Once all of the first years had arrived, the man, who introduced himself as Hagrid, led them down a dark winding path surrounded by thick trees. It was steep and slippery, and Harry could barely see the ground.

“Yeh’ll get yer first sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec.” Hagrid called over his shoulder. A resounding gasp sounded from the group. The path had opened up to the shore of a huge lake, glittering with starlight. On the other side, a magnificent, sparkling castle was perched atop a mountain.

“Hogwarts!” Hermione hissed excitedly. 

A fleet of boats were docked at the side of the lake, which the students were ordered to get into. Harry, Neville and Hermione got into one together, and were joined by Susan Bones. 

Once everyone was in a boat, Hagrid shouted “Forward!” and the entire fleet moved forward across the still lake. The students sat in silence, staring in awe at the magnificent castle. They were taken through a dark tunnel, before the boats docked at an underground harbour.

The whispers broke out amongst the students as Hagrid led them through the passageway, which exited out onto a small patch of grass to the side of the castle. 

Nearby, there was a flight of stone steps, which the students were led up. At the top, Hagrid knocked on the large, oak door. 

The doors swung open at once, revealing a tall witch in black, emerald-green robes. 

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.” Hagrid said. Harry recognised the witch’s name. She was the stern Head of Gryffindor, who his father and Sirius had often been in trouble with.

“Thank you Hagrid, I will take it from here.” Professor McGonagall opened the doors fully, and the students were ushered into the magnificent entrance hall. More whispers broke out amongst the students as they took in the huge space and grand marble staircase.

“That must be the Great Hall,” Harry whispered as they passed a set of doors. Inside, he could hear the other students chattering. Instead of being taken in there, however, Professor McGonagall led them into a side chamber. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. 

“While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on a few other messy-looking students. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

“I shall return when we are ready for you” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”

She briskly left the chamber, closing the door behind her.

“Do either of you know how they sort the students?” Hermione asked. “None of my books said.”

“No one told me.” Harry said nervously. “I asked, but they always tried to change the subject.”

“Do you think it’s some sort of test?” Neville asked. Harry gulped, nervous. Were they meant to know any spells yet? He only knew a few spells, and hadn’t had a chance to practice them yet. His wandless magic could only take him so far, too; all he could do with it was blow things up. He’d never managed to expand it to other areas.

He glanced around and noticed everyone else looked just as terrified. Hermione was muttering through any spells she knew, and Neville was staring blankly into the distance. Just as Harry started wondering if he should get his wand out and practice a few spells, several students screamed. 

He whipped around, heart pounding. A group of ghosts had floated through the wall, arguing amongst themselves. 

“Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance.” A fat little monk was saying. Harry felt his heart calm; it was just the Hogwarts ghosts. He knew about them, they were perfectly harmless.

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?” A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years. Nobody answered. 

“New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. “About to be sorted, I suppose?” A few people nodded mutely. “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old house, you know.”

 “Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

Harry tried not to jump. McGonagall had returned.

“Please form a line and follow me,” she instructed. The first years nervously filed into position. Harry ended up between Neville, who was trembling, and Hermione.

Professor McGonagall led them out of the chamber and into the nearby Great Hall. It was even bigger than the Entrance Hall, and contained four tables packed with students and one table at the end of the hall where the teachers were sitting. 

Harry stared in wonder at the ceiling of the Hall, which was bewitched to display the sky. It was pitch black, and dotted with tiny stars. Beneath it, hundreds of candles cast a warm glow over the Great Hall.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she put a frayed, ripped hat. Confusion washed over Harry - how was this thing related to the Sorting? 

Suddenly, a stitch near the brim opened up and the hat burst into song. 

Harry listened in shock as it sang about the qualities of the four Houses. When it was finished, the entire Hall burst into applause. The hat gave a small bow before becoming still again.

Harry felt relief wash over him; he just had to try on the hat! He didn’t need to do some sort of test.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long scroll of parchment. 

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!” 

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause – 

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

 ‘Bones, Susan!’ The girl from the robe store nervously walked forward and sat on the stool.

‘HUFFLEPUFF!’ shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.  

Harry began to tune out the sorting after ‘Boot, Terry’ was sorted into Ravenclaw. Where was he going to end up? As long as he wasn’t in the same house as Ollie, Harry didn’t mind. Unluckily for him, they were sorting the students alphabetically. That meant that Ollie would be sorted after him, so Harry wouldn’t be able to know where his brother was going until his House had been chosen. Harry’s guess was that Ollie was going to be sorted into Gryffindor, so he needed to avoid them.

I’ll ask the hat for Ravenclaw, he decided. Harry didn’t know if you could ask the hat for a particular house, but he was going to try.

“Granger, Hermione!” Harry watched curiously as Hermione jammed the hat onto her head. Her sorting was the longest yet, and took several minutes.

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat shouted. The table on the far left exploded with cheers. Harry was surprised; she had seemed like a textbook Ravenclaw.

When Neville’s name was called, the boy fell over on his way to the stool. 

His sorting took even longer than Hermione’s. After a few minutes though, it finally called out “GRYFFINDOR!” which was met with raucous cheers. Harry grinned; Neville had gotten the house he wanted! His friend looked shocked but pleased as he ran to the Gryffindor table with the hat still on his head. He had to jog back, much to everyone’s amusement, to give it to ‘MacDougal, Morag’.

Soon after, the Malfoy boy was called. The hat barely touched his blonde head before it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

Harry took a deep breath as McGonagall worked her way through the middle of the register. It wasn’t long until ‘Potter’ would be called. 

After ‘Perks, Sally-Anne’ was sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor McGonagall shouted ‘Potter, Harry!’

Scattered whispers echoed through the hall. Harry squared his shoulders and resolutely ignored them. They were just talking about Ollie, anyway. The last thing Harry saw before the hat slipped over his eyes were hundreds of faces staring at him.

“Hmm,” said a quiet voice in his ear. “Difficult, very difficult. Lots of loyalty, I see, but I don’t think Hufflepuff is the right fit for you. Not a bad mind, either, but I don’t think Ravenclaw suits you either…”

Harry was surprised by that. He guessed he couldn’t ask for Ravenclaw then.

“Plenty of courage. You could thrive in Gryffindor, but then, there’s the ambition…the thirst to prove yourself…you could also do rather well in Slytherin. It would help you on the way to greatness. Where shall I put you?”

Harry, much like the hat, was split. Neville and Hermione, the only people he really knew, were in Gryffindor. His whole family were Gryffindors, and expected him to be the same. But then, since when had Harry gone along with what his family wanted?

The hat said Slytherin would help him on the way to greatness. And Harry wanted to be great. He wanted to show the world he was more than Ollie’s brother. Besides, his twin would surely be in Gryffindor, and Harry really didn’t want to share a house with him.

“I think you’ve answered my question then, young man,” the hat said. “Better be - SLYTHERIN!” The hat shouted the last word to the whole Hall. There was some scattered applause as Harry took off the hat. He walked with shaky legs to the Slytherin table, trying to ignore the renewed whispers. 

He sat down at the far edge of the table trying not to look at Malfoy. He hadn’t remembered being in Slytherin meant sharing a House with him. In fact, Harry was realising that he hadn’t really thought through any of this.

His whole family hated Slytherin! How were they going to react to this? He wished that the hat had spent more time deliberating before it sorted him. 

He resisted the urge to put his face in his hands and looked back up at the front of the Hall where Ollie was being sorted. It was taking a very long time, even longer than Neville and Hermione. There were whispers of ‘hatstall’ throughout the tables before McGonagall shushed them.

After five tense minutes, the hat opened its mouth and shouted: “SLYTHERIN!”

Chapter Text

The Great Hall was dead silent. There was no applause or cheering, like there had been for the other students. Everyone stared at Ollie in silent horror, including the Slytherins. McGonagall, who looked quite surprised herself, took the hat off Ollie’s head. 

Harry was equally shocked. How was Ollie in Slytherin? He was the biggest Gryffindor Harry had ever met! 

His brother still hadn’t moved from the stool. By now, the other students were whispering and craning their heads to get a better look. 

“Go join your table, Mr Potter,” Professor McGonagall said gently. Ollie finally got up and started walking to the Slytherin table. He looked like he was about to be sick. 

Ollie sat down - as far away from Harry as he could get, he noticed - and buried his head in his arms. He didn’t look up again, not even when Malfoy started whispering to him. 

As McGonagall moved onto ‘Smith, Zacharias’, Harry resisted the urge to slump onto the table himself. He’d gotten into Slytherin to get away from Ollie, and now they were stuck together! Despair washed over him. How was he going to ever make a name for himself now? He would never get out of Ollie’s shadow. 

Harry was still shocked that Ollie was there in the first place. He’d been certain that Ollie was a shoe-in for Gryffindor. As he thought about it more though, he could see how it happened. Ollie did have quite the vicious streak, after all. He was also really involved in politics; could that be ambition? Harry wished he could read his brother’s mind. Then he could understand how this had happened.

Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor - Harry thought Ollie sank even further down at that - and finally, Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin. He took a seat next to Harry.

“Harry, right?” he whispered. He nodded. 

“Nice to meet you,” Blaise said. Harry was relieved; at least someone in this house seemed decent. No one else had spoken to him yet. 

Professor McGonagall had taken away the hat and stool, and Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. Harry tried to suppress the feeling of dislike; after all, Dumbledore was the one that had told the Potters he was a Squib. He wasn’t responsible for Lily and James giving him away, but Harry couldn’t help but feel annoyed with him.

“Welcome!” he said, blue eyes twinkling. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

Everyone cheered as he sat back down. Harry did not; he thought the man seemed a bit mad.

Suddenly, piles of food appeared on the golden dishes in front of him.  So this was the famous Hogwarts cooking Sirius had told him so much about! Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen so much food in his life. He made sure to put a little bit of everything on his plate. 

Ollie still hadn’t lifted his head, and his plate was bare. Blaise inclined his head towards him.

“What’s his problem?” Blaise asked. He had traces of an accent which Harry couldn’t quite place. 

Harry shrugged.

“Didn’t expect to be sorted here, I guess,” he said, pouring pumpkin juice into his goblet. “I didn’t either, really.”

“Well, at least you’re dealing with it better than him.” Blaise rolled his eyes at Harry. Just then, a curly-haired prefect cuffed Ollie around the back of the head. He finally got up, looking indignant.

“Don’t sulk,” she scolded. “It’s rude. Go help yourself to some food.” she nodded towards the table before turning back to her friends. Ollie looked like he wanted to protest, but he suddenly blanched after looking up at the Head Table. Confused, Harry glanced up. A greasy-haired man in black robes was glaring at Ollie. Harry had never seen someone look at another person with such hatred before. 

The man turned his stare onto Harry, glaring at with equal intensity. Harry suddenly felt a sharp pain in his forehead and hissed.

“What is it?” Blaise asked. Harry looked back down at his plate.

“N-Nothing.” The pain had gone as soon as it started.

“Do you know who that black-haired man is?” he asked, nodding towards the head table. Harry had a pretty good idea, but wanted to make sure.

“I think it’s Professor Snape. He’s our Head of House and the Potions Professor,” Blaise told him. Harry groaned - that explained the glare. Of course he’d be unlucky enough to get his father’s rival as his Head of House.

As Harry stuffed himself with food, he started listening to the conversations around him. He figured that he should know who his housemates were.

The two sitting across from him - Daphne and Pansy, he thought - were talking about where they’d been on holiday. They apparently knew each other from before Hogwarts. Blaise had turned to talk with a black-haired boy, Theodore Nott, who seemed a bit shy. Draco Malfoy was boasting to Ollie about his new broom. Apparently his father had bought him the new Nimbus 2000. Ollie still looked a bit miserable, but he seemed to be getting on well with Draco.

Of course Ollie would be friends with him , Harry thought bitterly. Bullies always grouped together.

By the time Harry had finished his dinner, he was so full he thought he couldn’t possibly eat another thing. When the main courses faded away and were replaced with delicious desserts, however, Harry decided he could probably make room for a slice of treacle tart. 

As he tucked in, the conversations around him turned to family.

“I live with my mother and my stepfather in Italy,” Blaise was saying. That explained the accent Harry had picked up on. “Giuseppe wanted to send me to Beauxbatons, but my mother insisted I study at Hogwarts.”

“My father was the same,” Theodore said. “It’s just me, him and my brother. He originally wanted to send us to Durmstrang, but my brother begged him to let us go here, so here I am. Seb’s one of the fifth year prefects.”  He gestured towards a boy with high cheekbones. He was talking to the curly-haired girl who had scolded Ollie.

Harry made a mental note to look up Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. From what he’d picked up, they were magical schools, but he hadn’t heard of them.

By the time the meal was over, Harry was starting to feel quite sleepy. The long day of travel had taken its toll, and he was more than ready to sink into bed.

At last, the puddings vanished and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The chatter died down as the Headmaster cleared his throat to give his start of term notices.

“First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Dumbledore glanced at a number of students, including the Weasley twins. Harry smiled as he remembered some of the stories they’d told him about the forest. George had sworn that a giant spider jumped on his head once. 

“I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.” Even though Harry knew first-years weren’t allowed to try out for the team, he still felt a surge of excitement. He was finally going to see a live Quidditch game! James had promised to take him and Ollie to see a professional game, but it hadn’t happened yet.

 “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” A couple of students laughed, but they were in the minority. Most of them started whispering nervously.

“He’s not serious, is he?” Harry muttered to Blaise. The other boy shrugged.

“Must be.”

After a noisy rendition of the Hogwarts school song, Dumbledore finally finished up his announcements and sent the students to bed. Harry and the other first-year Slytherins were ushered into a line by Theo’s brother and the curly-haired girl, who introduced herself as Gemma Farley.

“First-years, follow me!” Gemma called, setting off briskly through the corridors. As she led them through secret passages and hidden doorways, Harry started to feel hopelessly lost. How would he ever learn his way around the castle?

The prefects took them down a set of stairs, and the temperature began to drop. Harry noticed Blaise shivering as they descended into the dungeons. Was this where their common room was? What kind of school keeps the students in a dungeon?

Eventually, the prefects stopped them in the middle of the corridor. Harry looked around, confused. Sirius had told him the Gryffindor common room was located behind a portrait, but the corridor was completely bare. He couldn’t see any sort of entrance.

Seb Nott cleared his throat.

“Nitimur in vetitum,” he said, and a hidden door slid open. The first-years filtered into the common room. It was a high-ceilinged room, filled with couches and chairs which the older Slytherins were already sitting on. It was lit by greenish lamps and a fire was blazing in the hearth. Tall, dark windows lined the walls. When Harry looked closely, he thought he could see water moving against them. They must be under the lake. 

“Hey Potter,” Gemma said, tapping Harry on the shoulder. “A word.” Harry’s heart sank. How was he in trouble already? What could he have done?

Gemma took Harry over to a quiet corner of the common room. Another first year girl, Tracey, was already standing there looking a bit nervous. Ollie was with her. He scowled at Harry as they approached. 

“I just wanted to warn you guys,” Gemma said quietly. “You’re all half-bloods, and some Slytherins are going to have a problem with that.”

Ollie scoffed.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. She sighed.

“It is, but that’s just what Slytherin is like. I’m a half-blood myself, so I know. Try and stick together - there’s strength in numbers. If anyone gives you trouble, let me know, alright? Or go to Professor Snape.”

“Fine.” Ollie said shortly. He walked off without being dismissed. Harry guessed he was still annoyed with her about the lecture at dinner. 

“Thanks for the advice,” Harry said. He wanted to leave a better impression than his brother had.

“No problem,” Gemma smiled. “Professor Snape will be here any minute, so I’ll wrap this up. Have a good night!” she walked off to a group of fifth-year girls.

“That’s a bit worrying,” Tracey muttered. Harry nodded in agreement. He already had enough to deal with, since half the wizarding world thought he was a Squib. He didn’t need blood prejudices on top of that. 

Just then, the stone door repened, and the common room went silent. Professor Snape walked in, black robes billowing out behind him. All the students who had been sitting got to their feet.

“Good evening,” Professor Snape said coolly, as the students sat down again. Harry, who was still standing by the wall with Tracey, quietly sat down at one of the tables.

“For those of you who do not know, I am Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House. 

“While you are here, your house will be like your family. Therefore, I expect unity. You will not air any internal disputes outside of these walls. Slytherin has a particular reputation within the school, so you must all support one another, no matter what you think of your housemates. If you do not obey this rule, I will deal with you personally.” 

Harry could only imagine how unpleasant such an encounter would be. 

“Furthermore, I hold my students to a high standard. I expect the highest grades from my Slytherins, so you will all work hard. All rules will be followed to the letter. I do not tolerate troublemakers in my house.” his eyes raked the room, resting on Ollie, then Harry, before he continued.

“If you have any concerns or issues, my office is open. Have a good night.” Snape cast one final scathing glance towards the first-years before sweeping out of the common room. The older students started whispering and giggling after the door slammed shut behind him. Harry wasn’t sure how they could; Snape’s speech had scared the life out of him.

“First-year boys, follow me to your dorm,” Seb called. Harry got up and went over to the prefect. Seb led them into a long, dark corridor lined with doors. He took them to the very end of the hallway, where there was a door marked First-Years . Seven four-poster beds with emerald green hangings lined the walls and there were two large windows on the far wall, which also looked out onto the lake. 

“Gemma and I will be down in the common room in the morning to take you all to breakfast. Have a good night.” Seb left the room, shutting the door behind him.

There was a mad scramble for the beds. Harry managed to get the one closest to the door, while Blaise took the one next to him. Theo sat down on the bed opposite. On Blaise’s other side was Ollie, and finally Draco had taken the one next to the window. The other two boys, Vince and Greg, took the remaining beds.

Too tired to say much, the boys all changed into their pyjamas and got into bed. Before Harry went to sleep, however, he quietly rummaged through his trunk for the two-way notebook. He would write letters to Sirius and his parents tomorrow, but he had promised Jasmine he would tell her everything as soon as he got to Hogwarts.

Harry didn’t know how to cast lumos yet, so he crouched down on the stone floor next to the door, where light was shining through the cracks. The other boys were already asleep. He chewed on the end of his quill, trying to think about what to say.

I’m at Hogwarts. Just wanted to let you know that I’ve been sorted into Slytherin. So has Ollie. Don’t tell Mum and Dad yet, I want to tell them myself. I’ll write more tomorrow. Harry knew it was brief, but he was too worried about her reaction to say more. He knew Jasmine probably wouldn’t care, but an irrational part of Harry was still scared. His parents and Sirius, on the other hand, were a different story. He was almost certain that they wouldn’t be happy about his sorting. From what Harry had heard, James and Sirius had spent their Hogwarts years at war with the Slytherins.

With a sigh, Harry tucked the notebook away and climbed into bed. All he could think about was Sirius’ family. His godfather had told him about how they were all Slytherins, and that they had hated Sirius for being in Gryffindor. He had also told Harry how most of them had gone bad. What if Harry was evil, too, and that’s why he was here?

He rolled over, trying to get comfortable. Then there was Ollie. So far, he’d continued to ignore Harry, like they did at home, but he wasn’t sure if that would change. The only reason he’d stopped being horrible to Harry was because of their parents. Now that they were away, who knew what Ollie would do to him?

This is going to be a long seven years, he thought wearily.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up bright and early the next day, ready to face his first day of classes at Hogwarts. He’d been looking forward to actually learning magic the entirety of last year and it was finally happening!

He dressed and washed quickly, wondering what his first class would be. He was hoping it would be Defence Against the Dark Arts; that sounded the most interesting. 

As the prefects took the first-years up to the Great Hall, he started noticing the whispers.

“There he is!”

“Who?”

“Ollie! Over there!”

“Which one is he?”

“Next to the blonde. Look!”

The whispers seemed to somehow empower Ollie - he walked through the corridors with a spring in his step, waving cheerfully at the gawking passerbys. Any sulkiness from the night before had vanished - he had what Harry had started to call his ‘Boy-Who-Lived face’ on.

Once they reached the Great Hall, Professor Snape handed out their timetables. He slammed Harry’s onto the table with particular vigour.

“Hey, look! We’ve got Herbology first!” he said excitedly. Harry was glad; he already knew a little bit about it because of Neville. So far, he’d found that magical plants were much more interesting than the ones he used to weed in Aunt Petunia’s garden.

“Mmph,” Blaise grunted, staring into his toast. He was not a morning person.

As it turned out, Herbology wasn’t actually as interesting as Harry had hoped. Since it was the beginning of the term, they were only learning theory, and didn’t get to actually see any of the dangerous plants Neville had told him about. 

Most of the other classes that day were just as disappointing. They had Defence Against the Dark Arts, where they were mostly taught from a textbook. Harry was sceptical that the jumpy Professor Quirrel had ever battled a Dark Creature.

“Defence professors are famously bad,” Blaise informed him at lunch. “They say the job’s jinxed. They haven’t been able to hold onto a professor for more than a year in decades.”

History of Magic was also tedious. It was taught by a ghost, Professor Binns, but that was the only interesting thing about it. He had a droning voice that put most of the class to sleep in no more than five minutes. 

Luckily, their first Transfiguration lesson was far more interesting. The stern Professor McGonagall started the lesson by giving them a long lecture about the dangers of Transfiguration and made them take a bunch of fiercely complicated notes. However, she also let them have a stab at practical magic by getting them to turn matchsticks into needles. It wasn’t as exciting as turning furniture into animals, but Harry was determined to do well. 

He tried to recall what Sirius had told him about animagus transformations. He remembered his godfather saying that you had to really concentrate on the process of becoming an animal, not just on the end goal. So, instead of trying to picture a needle, Harry imagined a matchstick turning into a needle as he muttered the incantation. Eventually, something started to happen. It wasn’t exactly a needle, but the matchstick had turned a silvery colour. By the end of the lesson, Harry was the only one who had been able to change his matchstick at all. 

“Well done, Mr Potter,” Professor McGonagall said as she inspected his work, giving him a rare smile. As she turned her back, Ollie flicked his matchstick at Harry’s head, scowling. 

“Ignore him,” Blaise muttered as the other boy stormed off. “He’s just jealous. That was wicked! Most people don’t manage anything on their first try at Transfiguration.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled. 

When they got back to the common room, Harry decided to put aside his homework and write some letters home. First of all, he checked his two-way notebook.

Hi Harry!

Congrats on making Slytherin! I know you didn’t expect to end up there, but I’ve been reading about it a lot today, and it looks nice enough. Is everyone being nice to you? Ollie had better not be giving you any trouble. If he does, you can hex him now.

What are the classes like? You have to tell me everything! I hope you’re having a great time!

Harry smiled to himself. He was relieved that she was so happy for him, although he’d known all along that she probably would be. He wasn’t so sure about the rest of his family though - Harry needed to think carefully about their letters. After penning a quick response to Jasmine telling her about the day’s lessons, Harry decided to bite the bullet and start his letter to Sirius. 

Dear Sirius,

I hope you’re well.

I arrived at Hogwarts last night, and was sorted into Slytherin. Ollie was, too. I hope this is okay with you. I promise I won’t get involved with anyone bad. 

I’ve just come back from my first day of lessons. Did you have Professor Binns in your time? Also, I used what you told me about Transfiguration and managed to get my matchstick to change colour. I don’t know how to get it to fully turn into a needle, though. Any tips?

Tell Adhara I say hi!

Harry

He bit his lip anxiously as he finished the letter. It felt weirdly stilted and unnatural, but Harry didn’t know what he could do about it.

The letter to Lily and James was far easier for him to write. Harry didn’t particularly care what they thought about his sorting, so he finished it quickly.

Finally, Harry wrote a letter to Dan asking how he was.  He had to be careful in the letter not to violate the Statute of Secrecy, though. The owl itself wouldn’t cause alarm - according to Jasmine, wizards had ways of integrating mail into the muggle postal system - but Harry still had to triple-check the letter to make sure no magical details had slipped past his notice.

“Hey, I’m going up to the Owlery, do you want to come?” Harry asked Blaise, who was trying to start his Transfiguration homework. 

“Yeah, sure. I have to send this letter to Mother anyway.”

They started making their way up to the Owlery, although neither of them knew exactly where it was. The prefects had given all the first-year Slytherins maps of the school, but they weren’t that helpful in a school that rearranged itself constantly. 

“You’ve got a lot of letters,” Blaise commented as they walked through the corridors. “Who are they for?”

“My parents, my godfather and a friend from school,” Harry answered. 

“Oh yeah, your godfather’s Sirius Black, isn’t he?” Blaise said. “I think my mother knows him. She was in the year above him in school - in Slytherin, of course. She told me it was quite the uproar when he got sorted into Gryffindor.”

Harry winced. Blaise, of course, noticed.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something?”

“He just might not be too happy with me being in Slytherin considering…you know.” he gestured vaguely. Luckily, Blaise knew what he was on about.

“Try not to worry about him too much,” he said soothingly. “If he’s any kind of godfather than he’ll get over it. If not, then it’s his loss, right?”

“Right.”

Harry still didn’t feel much better.

After a lot of confused wandering, they finally ended up at the Owlery. Harry gently brushed a finger along Hedwig’s feathers before he tied the letters to her leg and watched her fly off. She really was a beautiful bird.

As they left, Harry almost tripped over someone coming up the stairs.

“Sorry!” the other person mumbled. Harry looked, and realised it was Neville.

“Oh, Neville! How are you doing?” The other boy looked at him nervously.

“Oh, you know. Fine.” Something about Neville’s tone was off. Almost as if he was scared. 

“I know that we’re in different houses now, but would you like to meet up soon? Maybe we could meet in the library after classes are over?”

“You would really want to?” Neville looked confused. “I thought that now you’re in Slytherin you wouldn’t want to be seen with a Gryffindor.”

“I don’t care about that,” Harry said, surprised. “You’ve been my friend for over a year, I’m not just gonna cut you off.”

“Oh.” The other boy looked relieved. “Well, then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once Neville was out of earshot, Blaise cleared his throat. 

“Listen, I know you said you don’t care about house divisions, but you really should,” he said quietly. “If the other Slytherins see you spending time with a Gryffindor, they won’t be happy.”

“Well, seeing as half of Slytherin already hates me for being a half-blooded squib, it’s not really going to make that much difference,” Harry said shortly. Blaise held his hands up.

“Hey, I don’t care about that stuff. Just trying to warn you, okay?”

The next morning, a flurry of owls flew into the Great Hall to deliver the mail. To Harry’s surprise, Hedwig was already back with a letter. It was from his parents. He opened it with trepidation.

Dear Harry,

Thank you for your letter. I hope you’re enjoying Hogwarts! Your father and I were glad to hear you’re doing well in your classes. Make sure you study hard, and keep up the good work.

Congratulations on your sorting. Obviously we were a bit shocked to hear about it, but, as I said in the summer, we don’t care where you’ve been sorted as long as you’re happy. However, I would advise you to exercise caution in the friendships you make. Some of the children in your year have Death Eater parents, and they may use you to get information on Ollie. Keep your guard up and stay safe.

Lots of love,

Mum and Dad

Relief washed over him. His parents had taken the sorting surprisingly well, although he hadn’t failed to notice that the letter was written in his mother’s shaky handwriting. Did that mean James was angry he was in Slytherin? Harry hoped he was just reading into it. Maybe his father had just been at work, and that’s why he hadn’t written to Harry himself. 

The bit about Death Eaters had left him feeling a bit uneasy, though. Were people really that eager to hurt his brother, even though Voldemort was gone? He glanced at Ollie, who was scowling at a letter of his own. He noticed that it was quite a bit longer than Harry’s. Despite himself, Harry still felt a twinge of hurt. He knew Lily liked Ollie more than him, so why did it still hurt so much?

Maybe the real thing hurting him was the lack of correspondence from Sirius. If his parents had taken the time to write him a letter, then why hadn’t his godfather? The more Harry thought about it, the more the pit in his stomach grew. Sirius definitely hated him now. It was all he could think about all day - it even distracted Harry during his new classes. By the time he packed up his things to go visit Neville in the library, he had worked himself into quite a state.

Luckily, Neville was a good distraction. As they quietly discussed their homework and classes, Harry finally managed to push his worries about Sirius to the back of his mind. He even went back to the common room with a smile on his face. It was always nice to spend time with a friend.

As he came in, however, Draco noticed him. A sneer crossed his face.

“Back from the library?” he asked loftily. “I’m not surprised you’re friends with Longbottom. It makes sense, since you’re both filthy Squibs.”

“Oh shut up, Malfoy,” he snapped, good mood gone. The familiar anger had surged up in him and he longed to punch Draco in his smug face.

“Come on, Harry,” Blaise muttered, grabbing him by the elbow and steering him out of the common room. Once they were safely in the dormitory, Harry gave into his rage and slammed his fist into the wall. He immediately regretted it as sharp pain shot through his knuckles.

“Merlin, Harry, calm down!” Blaise said, pulling him away from the wall. Harry slumped onto his bed with a huff, rubbing his sore hand.

“I just cannot stand him!” he shouted. “I don’t understand what I did to him!”

“You exist,” Blaise said with a roll of his eyes. “Draco’s a prat. He always has been.”

“I wish I’d punched him instead,” Harry grumbled, flexing his fingers. He winced in pain.

“Should you go to Madam Pomfrey?” he asked, worried. “You might have broken something.”

“Nah, I can move them. It’s probably fine.” Harry had experience with broken bones, but Blaise didn’t need to know that. He was just going to have a nasty bruise. 

“It probably doesn’t help, but I can’t stand him either,” Blaise said. “He’s said some awful things about my mother.”

“Really?” Harry said, surprised. Why would Draco have an issue with Blaise? He was a pureblood.

“He said she killed my last stepfather for his money,” he scowled. “I hate when people say that kind of thing! He died of Dragon Pox, I was there when it happened.”

“What a prat!” Harry scowled, glaring at the doorway. Blaise nodded in agreement.

“We should find a good curse to get him back with. That git deserves it.”

Harry and Blaise proceeded to spend an enjoyable ten minutes talking about all the different ways they could get their revenge. Neither of them knew enough spells yet that would really make Malfoy’s life hell, but Harry got a sudden stroke of genius. They could get him back the muggle way! He pulled the two-way notebook out of his trunk with an evil grin.

Dear Jasmine,

If you have a spare minute, could you run down to Tesco and buy me some blue hair dye? I’ll send Hedwig tomorrow…

“That notebook is amazing!” Blaise exclaimed once Harry was finished. “How did you get it?”

“My godfather made it for me,” he said. “He got one for me and one for my sister so we could keep in contact when I started living with him.”

“Why do you live with him?” Blaise asked. “I know you lived with muggles until last year, but that’s it.”

Harry explained everything that had happened in the last year, excluding some of the darker details. He glossed over the five days he had spent on the streets and cut out the Dursleys entirely.  

“So we decided that I’d stay the week with Sirius and spend Saturdays and Sundays with my family,” Harry finished. Blaise nodded in understanding.

“Is that why you’re so worried about being in Slytherin?” he asked. Harry nodded.

“I don’t want him to kick me out,” he said miserably. “And I’m sure he hates me now. He hasn’t replied to my letter yet.”

“He just might not have had time yet,” Blaise said soothingly. “You only sent it yesterday afternoon, after all. The owls take a while to get up here. My mother hasn’t written me back yet, either.”

But she lives in Italy, Harry thought bitterly. 

“Tell you what,” Blaise said, getting up from the bed and going over to his trunk, “Let’s just stay up here for a bit. I’ve got some Bertie Bott’s we can snack on!” he got out the sweets and shook them, waggling his eyebrows.

“Fine,” Harry said with a reluctant smile. He knew Blaise was trying to distract him, but he still appreciated it.

It was two days later when Harry finally got another letter. His heart started hammering - was it Sirius? Upon closer inspection, however, it was just the Potter family owl, Orpheus. Harry’s shoulders slumped with disappointment, even when he noticed Jasmine’s messy handwriting on the note. He did perk up a bit, however, when he saw the wrapped package included.

Use it well! Make sure to tell me all the gory details later. 

Jasmine

Harry smiled, tucking the note into his robe pocket. He shoved the package to the bottom of his bag, not daring to open it at the table. He didn’t want Malfoy to be able to track the prank back to him. 

Later that day, Harry snuck into the dorm and switched the shampoo in Draco’s bottle for the hair dye. If everything went to plan, he wouldn’t even notice until the following morning. The only mirror in the first-year dorm was located in the adjoining bathroom, and it would fog up once the shower was on. Draco always showered in the evening, and he was normally the last one, since he took forever. By the time he was done, all the other first-year boys would be in bed with the lights off, adhering to Professor Snape’s strict 9:30 curfew for first-years. It would be too dark for Draco to see his new, bright blue hair until the morning. 

The next morning, Harry got ready far quicker than he usually did. He wanted to be out the door before Draco blew up. Blaise, who normally waited until the last second to get out of bed, was less eager.

“I’d almost rather get screamed at,” Blaise muttered, haphazardly fastening his tie. 

“No you wouldn’t,” Harry whispered, casting a glance towards Draco’s bed. The hangings were still closed, but he could hear movement. “Let’s go.” 

As they were walking out the door, a loud shriek echoed through the dorm.

“Faster,” Harry hissed as they made their way through the common room. An angry Draco was a force to be reckoned with. They went down to the Great Hall, already snickering.

“I bet it’s bad!” Blaise said gleefully. “What colour did you go for?”

“It’s a surprise,” Harry said with a smirk. “And try not to look too pleased about it, or he’ll catch on. What’s our first lesson?”

“Potions. I’m looking forward to it, apparently Snape favours the Slytherins,” he said smugly. “He’s so strict as a housemaster, though, I can’t really imagine it.”

They started discussing what the class would be like, occasionally casting a look at the doors to see if Draco would make an appearance. Harry started to get worried. What was taking so long?

Eventually, the owls flew in. A letter addressed to Harry was dropped in front of him. It was from Sirius. He picked up the letter with shaky hands. What was he going to say?

Just then, however, Draco finally arrived. A harassed-looking Ollie, Vince and Greg were standing in front of him like a human shield. When they sat down at the Slytherin table, however, there was no hiding it. Draco’s hair was bright blue. It was even worse than Harry had imagined. The colour was uneven, dark blue in some places and a washed out green in others, like it hadn’t had time to set properly. 

Harry burst out laughing, not caring anymore if Draco knew it was him. Luckily, he wasn’t the only one. The entire Slytherin table had started chuckling. The other houses started looking around to see what the commotion was, and also started to laugh when they caught a glimpse. Draco’s face quickly turned red, contrasting brilliantly with his blue hair.

“Let me fix that for you, Malfoy,” Seb Nott said in between giggles. He tried casting a few spells to no avail. His hair stubbornly remained the same colour.

“This is a clever piece of spellwork,” Seb said with an approving nod. “Whoever did this made it immune to most counter-curses.”

Harry shared a secret grin with Blaise. Of course the prefects wouldn’t think of muggle hair dye. He was just surprised they didn’t have a spell that could change that.

“It must have been the Weasley twins!” Draco sent a venomous glare to the Gryffindor table. “Those filthy blood traitors have it out for Slytherin.” 

Harry’s amusement quickly died. He hated how flippantly Draco used that kind of language; it always made him want to shout at the other boy. However, his bruised knuckles were a stark reminder about letting his anger get away from him. Besides, this was his revenge.

“Either way, it’s time for you all to go to class now,” Seb Nott said with a glance at his watch. “Go to Professor Snape at break and see if he can help.”

As he got up from the table, Harry realised his letter from Sirius was still sitting there, unopened. In all the commotion, he’d forgotten about it. He shoved it to the bottom of his bag to deal with later. Right now, he needed to concentrate on Potions.

The students all filtered into the Potions classroom, sitting down in pairs on either side of the classroom. Harry and Blaise sat together, and Theo Nott joined them.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” he whispered to Blaise. “There’s an odd amount of Gryffindors, too.” Harry would be very happy to pair with Neville. This was the only class they had with Gryffindor, and it would be nice to spend some time together.

“Bad idea,” Blaise whispered back. “Sitting with the Gryffindors in Potions is practically suicide. It’s just not done.”

“Snape favours us anyway, he won’t make us move,” Theo chimed in. 

Just then, conversation was cut off by Professor Snape himself, who swooped into the classroom with a scowl on his pallid face. All the other students quickly fell silent, too. Professor Snape had a presence that commanded attention.

He started the class by taking the register. As Professor Snape reached Ollie’s name, however, he paused.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly. “Oliver Potter. Our new - celebrity .”

All of the Slytherins glanced at each other nervously. The Gryffindors started whispering, but quickly stopped after Snape glared in their direction.

After the professor had finished calling the register, he began a speech about the art of potion-making. He spoke with a soft cadence that had the entire class hanging onto his every word. Harry listened intently, fascinated.

After he had finished the lecture, Professor Snape whipped his head around and fixed his black eyes on Ollie.

“Potter!” he snapped.  “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry glanced at Blaise, who looked equally confused. The Hermione girl who he’d met on the train had raised her hand eagerly. 

Ollie slumped in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Dunno,” he muttered.

“Don’t know sir, Mr Potter,” Snape said icily, staring at Ollie down his hooked nose. “Let’s try again. Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?”

Harry thought he had a faint idea about that one. Didn’t it come from the stomach of a goat? Ollie, on the other hand, had slumped further down into his seat. 

“Don’t know either. Aren’t you meant to be teaching us this, sir ?” he asked insolently. A couple of the Gryffindors laughed. Snape’s scowl deepened.

“See me at the end of the lesson, Potter.” Ollie’s returning glare rivalled Snape’s. Harry watched, enraptured, as the two engaged in a silent staring match. His brother was stubborn, but the professor was an unknown entity. Eventually, Ollie looked away first. Harry had never seen that happen before - Ollie was the most stubborn person he knew.

“Maybe your brother will have a better chance. What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” Snape’s cold stare was now fixed on Harry. He racked his brain, trying to remember what he’d read in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi . In the background, he noticed Hermione was actually standing up, hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Next to her, Neville was watching him with wide, nervous eyes. Suddenly, Harry remembered their conversations in the other boy’s greenhouse.

“Aren’t they the same plant, sir?” he asked nervously. 

“Indeed they are, Mr Potter,” Snape said coolly, barely reacting. “At least one of you bothered to open a book before coming.” he glared at Ollie once again.  “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

Everyone started rummaging for quills and parchment. Harry was just relieved that he’d gotten the question correct.

As the lesson continued, Snape set them brewing a boil-curing potion. It was one of the most nerve-racking things Harry had ever experienced. As the class continued, he was realising potions did not come naturally to him. Theo kept having to correct his crushing technique, and had to quickly stop him from adding the ingredients in the wrong order. Blaise wasn’t faring much better. Eventually, Theo ended up doing the bulk of the potion, while Harry and Blaise meekly followed his instructions. 

Harry’s nerves weren’t helped by Professor Snape. He stalked between the desks, stared at their potions and criticised them constantly, particularly the Gryffindors. The only person not subjected to this was Draco, who Snape seemed to like. Even he wasn’t immune to the man’s ire, however. After a compliment on his perfectly stewed horned slugs, Snape quietly whispered, “see me at the end of the lesson about that hair , Mr Malfoy. I cannot have you traipsing the school in such a state.” It was barely audible, but Harry, who was sitting behind Draco, was just in earshot. He sent a smug look at Blaise, who grinned at him. 

Just then, acid-green smoke filled the room. Harry glanced over to the Gryffindors. Neville had somehow melted Seamus’ cauldron and his potion was seeping across the floor, burning holes in peoples’ shoes. He whimpered in pain as boils started popping up on his arms and legs.

“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Neville only whimpered again.

“Take him up to the hospital wing,” he spat at Seamus. “And five points from Gryffindor.”

The Gryffindors all stared at him, outraged, but none of them said anything.

An hour later, they finally left the dungeons. Harry felt decidedly worse than when he’d entered, even when he caught a glimpse of Ollie's scared face as he stood before Snape’s desk. Normally, his twin being in trouble would cheer him up.

“Why did he seem to hate us so much?” Harry asked, bewildered. Harry couldn’t think of anything he’d done to earn the fury of his housemaster yet. Maybe he somehow knew that Harry was behind Draco’s hair?

“I don’t know,” Blaise said. “It’s weird. He normally favours the Slytherins.”

“I bet it was Ollie’s fault,” Harry said with a scowl. “He probably did something and now Snape hates me by association or something.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Blaise still looked unconvinced.

“I hope Neville’s alright,” he said, concerned. “Those boils looked nasty.”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Blaise said airily. “Potions accidents happen constantly. He’ll be out of the hospital wing in half an hour.”

“That’s good, I guess.” Harry still sometimes forgot how easy it was for wizards to fix injuries. Something like that would be much more serious in the muggle world. “I’m still gonna check on him at lunch, though.”

Luckily at lunch Neville was back, looking a little shaken but no worse for wear. Harry didn’t try to stay long - the other Gryffindors were glaring at him, and he was worried they’d try and hex him - but they made a promise to meet in the library again on Saturday morning. As Harry sat back at the table, he suddenly remembered Sirius’ letter. In the nightmare of Potions, he had forgotten about it again.

I’ll deal with it after school , Harry decided. If it was Sirius telling him that he wanted nothing to do with Harry, it wasn’t the sort of thing he should be reading at lunch anyway. 

After school, however, Harry wasn’t much more prepared to open it. He sat alone on his bed, listening to the faint laughter of his housemates and stared at the envelope. Eventually, he just shoved it to the very bottom of his trunk. If Sirius really hated him, he didn’t want to know. Harry didn’t think he could bear it. He’d open it closer to Christmas, maybe, when he absolutely had to know.

Harry made his way back into the common room, chest heavy. He sat with Blaise and Theo, who were still snickering over Draco’s hair. Whatever Professor Snape had done had turned it a murky green, and it looked even worse than before. 

No matter how much Harry tried to forget about the letter, though, it didn’t work. He just knew that when he read it, he would fall apart. What would he do without Sirius there to pick up the pieces?

Chapter Text

Days turned into weeks as Harry ignored the letter sitting in the bottom of his trunk. He just couldn’t bring himself to read it, even as the letters started piling up. Sirius had clearly realised Harry was ignoring him. Worst of all, Ollie had noticed, too. 

“Ignoring Sirius, are we?” he said smugly as Harry stuffed another unopened letter inside his robes. “You’ve probably got the right idea. I’ve known him far longer than you, and he hates Slytherins. He’s going to make your life hell this summer!” 

“Shut your mouth, Potter, before I shut it for you,” Blaise snapped back. Ollie rolled his eyes and turned back to Draco. Harry bit into his toast, feeling worse than ever. The worst part about Ollie’s taunts were that they contained a grain of truth - that was what made them hurt so much.

As the term had progressed, the first-year Slytherin boys had fallen into strict cliques, excluding Theo. He was something of a loner, and rarely spoke to the other first-years. Other than him, however, the boys had split into two warring groups.

Ollie, Draco Vince and Greg had formed a sort of gang, and liked to harass the other students. Ollie thought it was fun to constantly prank the other Slytherins, much to everybody’s annoyance. The Slytherin common room had to be evacuated multiple times after Dungbombs were released inside. The older students hated it, and had started hexing Ollie when his back was turned. 

Then there was Harry and Blaise, who had become quite close. When Draco and Ollie taunted Harry, Blaise was his fiercest defender. They rarely went anywhere without each other - Blaise had even started going with Harry to the library to see Neville, and the two had surprisingly hit it off. Madam Pince had threatened to kick them out multiple times for laughing too loudly.

Unfortunately, they were stuck spending time in the library since the common room was turning into a battleground, all because of one Draco Malfoy. For some reason, he hated Harry, and spent a lot of his time taunting him. Draco’s favourite insult was ‘Squib’ which never failed to send Harry into a rage. If they spent too much time in the same room, Blaise would have to drag Harry away to stop him hitting Draco when his temper finally snapped.

The only person that was able to stop Draco’s horrid behaviour was Ollie, surprisingly enough. He was the only person Draco respected enough to listen to - not even the prefects had that status.

At the start of term, Draco had spent a lot more time insulting muggleborns and half-bloods, but when Ollie was around, he cut that off. Harry wondered if his brother had had a word with Draco about it. Whatever had happened, however, hadn’t completely put an end to his bigoted nonsense. Ollie wasn’t around all the time - like Harry, he had friends in Gryffindor, like Ron Weasley. Harry often saw them wandering around the grounds or visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid. 

In the time Ollie was gone, Draco was unbearable. He would pick on the other students in the corridors and the common room, particularly Harry and Tracey, who were ‘filthy half-bloods’. 

Harry, who had experience with bullies, found it best to just avoid him. Unfortunately, Tracey wasn’t as experienced. He found her sitting in a quiet corner of the dungeons one day, trying to muffle her sobs.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting on the cold stone floor beside her.

“Draco,” she said between sobs. “He’s just so h-horrible to me all the t-time and I just can’t stand it!” 

Harry, who wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, put an arm around her shoulder.

“I find it easiest if you just avoid him,” Harry said helplessly. “I go to the library a lot with Blaise. If you want, you can always sit with us there.”

Tracey sniffled. To Harry’s relief, her tears seemed to have slowed.

“Thanks,” she said, furiously scrubbing her face with her sleeves. “I just wish he’d leave me alone. I can’t help that my mum’s a muggle, you know?”

“Yeah. He’s just stupid. You’re just as good at magic as any Pureblood.”

Tracey gave him a hug, surprising Harry. He wasn’t used to girls outside his family doing that.

 “I’m gonna go wash my face. Could you please not tell my friends about this?”

“Of course not,” Harry promised. He didn’t talk to the girls in his year much, anyway. They always went around in a big, giggling group, which was a bit intimidating. 

Tracey gave him one last smile before fleeing away.

As Harry walked back to the common room, blood started pounding in his ears. It was one thing for Draco to pick on him, but to go after Tracey? Somehow, that was far worse.

His hands clenched into fists. If he could just get his hands on Malfoy, he would make him pay. He would make him regret the day he was born-

Harry suddenly heard glass shatter. He whipped his head around, heart pounding. His magic had gotten out of control and some jars of potions ingredients in Professor Snape’s classroom had shattered.

Oh Merlin! He’d destroyed some of Snape’s potions ingredients. The man already hated him - he’d probably kill Harry for this. After a quick check for witnesses, he ran back to the common room as fast as he could, feeling like Snape would swoop around the corner at any moment. By some miracle, he managed to make it inside without running into anyone. 

Harry slunk off to where Blaise was sitting in the corner, reading a book.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry held a hand up, still out of breath.

“Don’t ask,” he gasped. The less people that knew, the better. 

“What can we do to make Malfoy suffer?” he growled. It was lucky for Draco that he wasn’t in the common room right now - Harry still had plenty of anger he needed to take out on something.

 Blaise grinned.

“Now that’s what I like to hear!” he said cheerfully, holding up the book he was reading. “I checked this out from the library the other day. We can practise some of these and use them on him. There’s an interesting one on page thirteen…”

Blaise barely had time to open the book to the page in question before the common room suddenly went silent. Snape had entered.

“Did any of you happen to be in my classroom about ten minutes ago?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice. His eyes raked over the room, spending a particularly long time on Harry. He crossed his fingers under the desk, desperately hoping that Snape didn’t know. He felt like the Potions professor could somehow read his mind.

“Prefects. A word.” he snapped. Some of the older students jumped up, white-faced.

“Some of you can be expecting a visit to my office.” Snape sent one final glare around the common room before spinning on his heel and stalking out of the common room. He paused and slapped a notice to the bulletin board on his way out.

Once the stone door had shut behind Snape, a fourth-year jumped up and read the poster.

“Flying lessons for the firsties!” he called. The other older students immediately lost interest, but Harry and Blaise eagerly went over to read the notice for themselves. Apparently, they were to have flying lessons next Thursday, alongside the Gryffindors. 

“This is gonna be great!” Blaise said gleefully. 

“I know!” Harry had missed flying since coming to Hogwarts. He couldn’t wait to finally get back on a broom.

Unfortunately for him, Harry had quite a lot to worry about before that happened. Namely, Professor Snape. 

About an hour after he’d talked to the Slytherins, Gemma Farley tapped him on the shoulder.

“Professor Snape wants to see you in his office,” she said. Harry gulped. This was it, then. He was doomed. 

“Good luck,” Blaise whispered as he got up and left. Harry walked through the hallway, palms sweating. How had he found out it was him? Would it be better to lie or to admit what he’d done from the get go? Harry decided he’d just keep quiet. He’d be in trouble either way, after all. Maybe he could get lucky…

As he reached Snape’s office, the door swung open, without him even knocking.

“Come in, Potter,” a low voice said. Harry nervously walked inside, feeling a bit sick.

“So,” Snape said smoothly, staring down his hooked nose, “Potter. Any idea of why you’re here?”

Harry shook his head mutely. 

“Someone vandalised my classroom earlier today. According to my prefects, you came back into the common room looking quite out of breath not long after it happened. Why is that, Potter?”

His black eyes bored into Harry’s.

“I just like to run sometimes, sir,” Harry lied. “I’ve got a lot of energy.”

He knew it sounded ridiculous, and Snape clearly thought so, too. 

“Perhaps we should start a Hogwarts cross-country team for you, Potter,” he said sarcastically, “since you seem to enjoy aimlessly running about so much. Unless, of course, you were tearing through the corridors for some other reason that you’re not telling me?”

Harry stared back at him, trying his best to look innocent. Snape sighed.

“Your wand, please.” He held out a hand and Harry placed his wand into it, bracing himself for whatever was to come. Was Snape going to snap it in a fit of rage?

“Priori incantatem,” Snape said. The ghostly remains of spells he cast in class earlier were all that came out of his wand. Harry felt his stomach drop when he realised Snape was looking through all the spells he’d cast recently. Would it also show wandless magic? 

Luckily for him, it didn’t. Snape eventually cancelled the spell, looking slightly disappointed.

“Well, there’s no evidence of any wrongdoing here. You may leave Potter.” he scowled. “But be warned. I am keeping a very close eye on you.”

Harry left the office as quickly as he could, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He wasn’t in trouble! Harry thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t hexed Draco yet. If that had shown up, he would have definitely gotten detention.

“Is everything alright?” Blaise asked as he sat back down.

“Snape thought I’d vandalised his classroom.” Harry whispered.

“And did you?” Blaise raised an eyebrow. Harry blushed.

“You little rebel!” Blaise said, slapping him on the back. “What did you do it for?”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Harry said, glancing around the common room. “And keep your voice down. Sometimes my magic gets away from me and blows things up.”

Blaise frowned. “You’re still having accidental magic?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I can control it, but not always.”

“You can do magic without a wand?” he asked excitedly.

“Yeah.” Harry said, frowning. “But I’m really bad at it. I just break things, I can’t do anything else. I bet everyone else here is way better.”

“No they’re not!” Blaise said. “Wandless magic is really difficult to master. Most wizards can’t do it when they’re adults, let alone when they’re eleven.” 

Harry was surprised by that. He’d thought that wandless magic was just something everyone could do. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realised how wrong he was. All of the witches and wizards he knew only cast with their wands, after all. 

“We should do more research into it.” Blaise said. “I bet there’s a book in the library on it somewhere.”

In the days leading up to the flying lesson, that was precisely what Blaise and Harry did. After scouring the shelves, they finally found a book called Mastering Your Environment:A Journey to Wandless Magic but it was almost impossible to read. There was so much technical vocabulary that he and Blaise had barely finished two pages in as many days.

On Thursday morning, Harry received another letter. His heart for a moment, thinking it was another letter from Sirius that he had to ignore. Luckily, he recognised Dan’s handwriting in the envelope. The owl had also dropped off a small, rectangular package with the letter, which was wrapped in newspaper. Luckily, Harry opened the letter first.

It started off with a brief account of Dan’s time at secondary school, Highgate Academy, which he apparently hated, and the football team he’d joined. Then, he explained what the box was.

I’m sure you saw the package. It’s some cigarettes, Katie wants you to sell them and send us the money. Apparently posh schools like yours are great for that sort of thing - loads of people want smokes but don’t know where to get them. Good luck! Katie told me to say she believes in you.

Harry tucked the letter away, staring at the box. What was Dan thinking, sending him something like that? What if the school checked the mail? He sighed, reaching out to put the package away. Unfortunately, Draco had already noticed it.

“What have you got here, Harry?” he said, snatching the box off the table and examining it closely. Panic seized him.

“You give that back right now, Draco, or I’ll make you regret it,” he said, trying to sound as menacing as he could. 

“Oi, lay off him!” Ollie said hotly. “What’s so secret about that, anyway? How about we take a look?” 

Just when Draco was about to start ripping off the newspaper, help came in the form of Gemma Farley.

“Not so fast,” she said, snatching the box from Draco’s hands. “Here you go Harry.” he smiled at her gratefully.

“Leave his things alone, alright?” she said sternly. “If you do that again, you’ll be in trouble.”

Draco scowled at her as she walked away.

“Come on,” Draco said, getting up from the table. “I’m sick of this lot, anyway.” 

He started walking out of the Great Hall, Ollie, Vince and Greg following him. Harry quickly shoved the package to the very bottom of his bag. He noticed Blaise was looking on curiously.

“So what actually is it, then?” he asked. Harry shrugged.

“Dunno. I’ll check later.” He really didn’t want Blaise to know about the situation with Katie and Dan.

The more Harry thought about it, the more stressed he felt. How was he supposed to sell cigarettes to people at Hogwarts? Where was he even supposed to find people who smoked? Did wizards smoke in the first place?

 And, most importantly of all, how was he supposed to sell anything with Snape breathing down his neck? Harry resisted the urge to groan. He’d rather not sell them at all, but he knew that it wasn’t optional. Harry wasn’t stupid; Katie was nice enough, but the people above her were not. He didn’t want to get on their bad side if he could help it - he’d heard whisperings of what happened to people who did, and it wasn’t pretty. 

Harry sighed and finished up the last of his scrambled eggs. He’d deal with this somehow, but it was a problem for later.

The minutes crawled by as Harry watched the clock, waiting for History of Magic to finish. Their flying lesson would be starting soon, and Harry couldn’t wait. He wasn’t the only one - the rest of the Slytherins had spent the entire day talking about tricks and stunts they’d pulled off on brooms. Draco kept boasting about times he’d narrowly avoided muggles in helicopters, while Ollie was going on about a hot air balloon he’d almost taken out with a bludger.

“He’s such a liar!” Harry muttered to Blaise. “Mum didn’t even let him fly until he was nine.”

Blaise just shrugged. “Ignore him. You know what they’re like.”

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry and the rest of the Slytherins finally headed down to the grounds for the flying lesson. Twenty school broomsticks were laid out on the ground.

“I can’t believe they make us fly on these ,” Draco complained. “I have the newest Nimbus 2000, of course. We should be allowed to use our own broomsticks.”

Harry clenched his jaw. It had been a long day of Draco’s whinging and boasting, and he was getting sick of it.

Soon, the Gryffindors had arrived at the field, followed by their teacher, Madam Hooch, who reminded Harry of a hawk.

“What are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone, stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Everyone quickly rushed to get the least damaged broomsticks. Harry’s had a few out of place twigs, but apart from that it was relatively intact.

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the front, “and say, “Up!”

“Up!” everyone shouted. 

Harry’s broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Blaise’s had done a feeble roll, and he noticed Neville’s hadn’t moved at all.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Harry smirked when she told Draco he’d been doing it wrong for years.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –”

Unfortunately Neville, who had never flown before and was rather nervous, had pushed off hard before the whistle had even touched Madam Hooch’s lips.

 “Come back, boy!” she shouted, but it was no use. Neville’s broom was out of control. He flew higher and higher, desperately clinging to his broom. Suddenly, he slipped sideways off the side and started tumbling towards the earth.

Neville hit the ground with a nasty crack. A Gryffindor girl shrieked as Madam Hooch started running over to his crumpled body. Harry’s heart was hammering. Was Neville alright? He remembered the time he’d fallen off his broom - it had hurt like hell.

“Broken wrist,” she muttered, looking quite shaken.  “Come on, boy – it’s all right, up you get.” 

She turned to the rest of the class. 

“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say “Quidditch”. Come on, dear.”

She gently led Neville, who was clutching his wrist and moaning, away into the castle.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Draco began to laugh.

“Did you see his face, the great lump?” To Harry’s disgust some of the other Slytherins joined in. He clenched his fists as the rage started building inside him.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” snapped Parvati Patil.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Pansy. “Never thought you’d like fat little cry babies, Parvati.”

The blood started pounding in Harry’s ears, and he gritted his teeth.

“Look!” said Draco, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. Harry finally reached his breaking point.

“Give that here, Malfoy,” he said quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch. It was just then that he remembered the Slytherin rules - always present a united front. Harry didn’t have it in himself to care. He wasn’t going to sit back and be part of a house of bullies.

Draco smiled nastily. 

“Standing up for your Squib friend, Potter?” Harry took a step forwards, ears ringing.

“Give it to me now. I’m warning you.”

“I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect – how about – up a tree?”

Harry saw red. Draco started making his way over to his broom, but Harry was faster. He shoved him, hard. Draco yelped before shoving him back. Harry aimed a blow at his jaw, and pushed him again. Draco fell to the ground with a thud. 

Harry jumped on him, and started raining blows on the other boy’s face. It felt so good to finally let it out. He was so sick of bullies. He was so sick of Draco bloody Malfoy.

He kept hitting and hitting the other boy, until Draco kneed him in the stomach. Winded, Harry rolled off to the side, gasping for air. Draco dragged himself to his knees and punched Harry’s eye. Furious, Harry raised his fist to return the favour.

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed the back of his robes and dragged him away. Harry flailed wildly, searching for the invisible attacker, but it was just Vince.

“Stop it!” Vince shouted, shaking him. The ringing in Harry’s ears stopped. He suddenly returned to his body, and pain washed over him. 

The Gryffindors were all cheering, but the Slytherins were dead silent, staring on in horror.

“And what is going on here?!” a woman shrieked. Harry looked over and saw Professor McGonagall running over, emerald robes flapping in the breeze. His heart sank.

“Fighting!” she shouted. “How dare you! Thirty points from Slytherin for this abhorrent behaviour! Professor Snape shall be dealing with you. Get up Malfoy, stop whining.”

Draco picked himself up from the ground, looking resentful. His lip had split and blood was dripping from the wound. Harry felt a surge of guilt - how had he done that to a person? What was wrong with him?

McGonagall grabbed them both by the collar of their robes and marched them into the castle, lecturing all the while.

“In all my years at Hogwarts - honestly, unbelievable behaviour! You can’t be left alone for five minutes…”

McGonagall’s anger wasn’t the thing Harry was worried about, though. Professor Snape was going to murder him. He felt like his legs were made of lead as McGonagall dragged him deeper and deeper into the dungeons. Harry felt like he was being taken to his execution.

McGonagall finally let go of them, and rapped smartly on the office door. Professor Snape opened it, expression immediately darkening.

“And what do we have here?” he asked, glaring at Harry and Draco.

“I caught these two fighting on the field,” she said. Snape’s scowl deepened. “Madam Hooch had left their lesson unattended to take an injured student to the hospital wing. I’ve already deducted thirty points from Slytherin, and I supposed you’d like to deal with them yourself.”

“Indeed,” Snape said in a low, dangerous voice. “Thank you, Minerva. I’ll take it from here.” she nodded before walking away.

“In.” Snape said. Harry and Draco scrambled through the doorway. Draco immediately seized his opportunity.

“He just attacked me, sir!” the other boy whined. 

“I did not!” Harry shouted.

“Don’t even-”

“SILENCE!” Snape bellowed, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him.

“Before I take you both to the hospital wing, I’d like an explanation,” he hissed. “Malfoy. You first.”

Draco began to weave a completely fictitious tale about Harry randomly attacking him for making a joke about Neville. Outraged, Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape held a hand out to stop him. Once Draco had finished his story, he weaved his fingers together.

“I see,” Snape said smoothly. “And if I were to ask the other students to corroborate your story, would I hear the same thing?” Draco flushed slightly. “That’s what I thought. You’ve just earned yourself an extra detention on top of what you had already, Malfoy.”

Draco crossed his arms and huffed.

“Potter, I suggest you learn from your companion’s mistakes and tell me the truth.”

Harry swallowed nervously, before relaying how the fight had gone down. He tried to be as honest as possible, even if that meant admitting he’d thrown the first punch. After he finished, the professor sat there silently and sized them up.

“So from what I understand,” he began. “After Mr Malfoy stole from another student, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Despite you knowing that my number one rule is that Slytherin students must show unity.”

“But he took Neville’s-”

“Couldn’t you have waited?” Snape cut him off. “You could have informed a prefect, and I would have dealt with it. It was a Remembrall, not a matter of life and death. Instead, you sullied our image and embarrassed me in front of my colleague.”

Harry looked at the ground, face burning. He wanted to tell Snape that he could care less about the stupid unity, but he held his tongue. Next to him, Draco was smirking.

“Don’t look so smug, Mr Malfoy,” Snape said sharply. “You’re just as culpable as Mr Potter. You antagonised him, did you not? Not only that, but you were bullying another student. If there is one thing I cannot stand, Mr Malfoy, it is bullies.” Snape folded his arms.

“I am extremely disappointed in you two. Malfoy, you have a week’s detention with me, in addition to the one I have given you for lying. Potter, you have two weeks for starting the fight. I will also be writing to your families.”

Harry nodded silently, still not meeting Snape’s eyes. He thought it was completely unfair. Draco had started it, not him!

“Now, I will be taking both of you to the Hospital Wing. Mr Malfoy, please wait outside. I need a word with Potter.”

“Yes, sir.” Draco muttered, skulking out of the room.

Snape sat behind his desk.

“Take a seat, Potter,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite. Harry complied, feeling nervous. What else could Snape possibly want with him? Was this about the jars he’d blown up again?

“I have received a letter from your godfather,” Snape said, lip curling into a sneer. Harry’s heart sank. “He is rather concerned about you. Apparently you have been ignoring his letters. Would you care to explain?”

Harry stared into his lap, refusing to answer.

“Potter, that was not a request.”

“He doesn’t like Slytherins,” Harry muttered. “He hates me now.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “I can assure you he does not, Potter. I’d suggest you actually read the letters he has sent before you make that kind of assumption.”

“Oh,” Harry said, lost for words. Sirius was worried enough that he’d written to Snape ? The man he hated? A wave of guilt washed over him. How could he have ever thought his godfather hated him?

“Please refrain from this kind of idiotic self-pity in future,” Snape said, standing up from his seat. “I’d rather not receive angry letters from Black threatening me and accusing me of locking you in a dungeon somewhere.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed. 

“Now, to the Hospital Wing,” he said, opening the door.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Harry said. He really wanted to get away from Draco and Snape. Besides, he’d had worse.

“Once again, Potter, that was an order and not a request.” Snape said sharply. “Or do I have to drag you there?”

“No, sir,” Harry muttered, cheeks flushing. He’d had more than enough of people dragging him through the school for the day.

“Let’s go, then,” he said, setting off at a brisk pace. Draco and Harry had to practically jog to keep up with him.

The half an hour in the Hospital Wing was a long one. Madam Pomfrey tutted over his injuries and spent the whole time chastising them for fighting. Harry was getting thoroughly sick of people doing that. Snape also spent the whole time standing in the corner, glaring at them. Harry’s only comfort was Neville, who was sitting in the bed opposite him with a bandaged wrist. He sent Harry the occasional sympathetic glance when Snape looked away.

At least there’s someone in this room who doesn’t hate me , he thought miserably.

Once Madam Pomfrey had finished patching them up, Snape escorted them back to the common room. He stopped them before they could go in, however.

“I expect you two to stay away from each other,” he warned. “My prefects will be keeping an eye on you. If you start another fight, you can expect yourself to be right back in my office, understood?” 

Harry and Draco both nodded.

“Report to my office at six o’clock tomorrow for your detentions.” Snape spun on his heel and walked away down the corridor. Harry sent one last glare at Draco before muttering the password and entering the common room. Draco immediately went over to Ollie, Vince and Greg, who all started fiercely whispering and glancing over at Harry. He turned his back on them and went over to Blaise.

“Dorm?” his friend asked. Harry nodded and they quickly slipped into the adjoining corridor.

“So,” Blaise began, when they were alone. “How bad is it?”

“Two weeks detention and he’s writing to my parents.” Harry kicked his bed frame. “It’s so unfair! He was being horrible to Neville!”

“He’s a right prat.” Blaise grumbled. “Sorry about Snape. He’s so arsey about that unity stuff, isn’t he?”

“He is! If I have to be united with a bunch of bullies, then maybe I don’t want to be in Slytherin!” Harry shouted. “I can’t believe we just have to stand by him!” 

Blaise shrugged helplessly. “It’s just one of those things you have to do for a quiet life. You can always beat him up in the common room if you want.”

“Right,” Harry muttered. “Sorry for shouting.”

“No problem,” Blaise said with a smile. “I don’t care. Now, what else should we do to Malfoy?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. “I already fought him.”

“And you did a great job,” Blaise said with an approving nod, “But we can’t let him get off that lightly, can we? I still have an entire book full of hexes to use. Want to take a look?”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, “Just give me a minute. I have some letters to read.”

While Blaise flicked through potential curses on his bed, Harry finally read through the letters to Sirius. Snape had been right; the original letter was actually full of compassion and understanding.

I know you might be worried I’m upset with you being in Slytherin, it read, but I just want to assure you that I’m still just as proud of you. I know I’ve said some harsh things about the Slytherins from my day, but there are some wonderful witches and wizards who were in Slytherin. My cousin Andromeda was one and she’s an amazing woman. You’re a nice, good-hearted lad, and the house you’re in doesn’t change that. 

Harry felt a pang of guilt as he finished reading the letter, as well as the concerned follow-ups begging him to reply. He’d caused himself and his godfather all that worry for nothing. Why had he ever thought Sirius would be angry at him? Harry had been so worried about his godfather making assumptions about him for being a Slytherin that he’d started making assumptions himself.

At least this was a problem he could fix now. He picked up a pen and started writing with a smile on his face. It was nice to know Sirius always had his back.

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.

Chapter Text

“That is it !” Blaise slammed his book shut. Everyone at the table looked at him in shock - he never lost his temper.

“Chill, Blaise!” Tracey hissed, checking around them for Madam Pince. “What’s your problem?”

“We need to go somewhere that isn’t this flipping library!” he whispered, crossing his arms and huffing. 

Harry thought he had a point. Since their group had grown to encompass Hermione, it was a  lot harder to sit in a quiet corner and talk to each other than it had been when it was just Harry, Blaise and Neville. Madam Pince seemed to kick them out every other day.

The library also wasn’t the sanctuary it had once been. Since the beginning of November, Draco, Ollie and Ron had started looking through the bookshelves and whispering to each other. Harry only caught snatches; something about a three-headed dog and a person whose surname sounded like ‘flannel’. Either way, he wasn’t particularly interested. 

The thing Harry was more curious about was how Ollie had gotten Draco and Ron into a room together. He’d overheard Draco calling the Weasleys blood-traitors when Ollie wasn’t around, and he didn’t think Ron liked Draco too much, either. Harry was quite surprised  that they’d managed to put aside their differences for whatever Ollie was plotting.

Either way, he wasn’t happy about it. Whenever Draco was near Harry and Blaise, he always tried to annoy them somehow. In the library, there wasn’t much he could do that wouldn’t get him kicked out by Madam Pince, but he always managed to find a way. Normally, it included throwing things at them, like balled up scraps of parchment. This was what had finally driven Blaise over the edge.

“It’s not like we can go to one of our common rooms, though,” Harry said. “We’re not allowed to have people from other houses in Slytherin.”

“I don’t think we can have people from other houses, either,” Hermione added. “I’ve never seen a non-Gryffindor in there.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” Neville said. “Why don’t we use one of those abandoned classrooms? Like that one that we were sitting in on Halloween, Harry.”

“That could work,” Harry said thoughtfully. 

“It would have to be somewhere out of the way, though,” Blaise said. “In a corridor that people don’t use very often. That way, it can be our own secret hideout.”

“Maybe we could have a hidden entrance!” Hermione said, eyes glittering with enthusiasm. “And I can find a bunch of wards that we can use so no one else can find it.”

“Fred and George are always going on about all these hidden rooms and hallways they’re finding,” Neville said. “We’ll definitely have options.”

“We could even have a place to practise spells,” Harry chimed in. “We can’t do that in the library, after all. How great would that be?”

“So great!” Tracey said eagerly. “That way, when people hex us in the common room, we can get them back twice as hard.”

“So when do we start looking?” Neville asked.

“How about now?” Blaise suggested. “We need to search as much of the castle as possible. We want this to be perfect .”

“Let's go!” Tracey said. 

Due to Blaise’s strict requirements, they spent the entirety of November searching the castle for the perfect place. Their group found a couple of contenders - a classroom door that was hidden behind a portrait on the sixth floor, and a room at the bottom of a hidden staircase in the dungeons. These were both vetoed for one reason or another - the portrait that hid the first room was a terrible gossip, and the room in the dungeons was far too small.

By early December, however, they were starting to get desperate. Harry was even considering asking the Weasley twins for a recommendation, although that would make their hideout a lot less secret if outsiders knew about it. 

Finally, a week before they were all due to go home for the holidays, Harry stumbled across the perfect place. He’d hidden in a broom cupboard on the fourth floor to avoid Peeves, who was throwing chunks of mud at any students who crossed his path. While he was inside, he’d come across a curious gap in the back wall of the cupboard. When he pushed on it, the wall swung open. Harry almost fell onto his face as he stumbled into a hidden room. 

It was large and spacious, with tall windows casting light onto the interior. There were a few rickety wooden desks laying about and a large blackboard took up the wall on the far left. Harry covered his mouth, trying not to cough. The room was also incredibly dusty, and full of cobwebs. Apart from that, it seemed like the perfect place.

After checking that Peeves had cleared off, Harry quickly made his way to the Great Hall to get dinner and update his friends.

“Harry? Why are you covered in dust?” Blaise asked as he sat down at the Slytherin table.

“I think I’ve found our room.” He grinned.

“Really?” Blaise’s eyes lit up. “Oi! Tracey!”

“What?” she shouted back from where she and the girls were sitting.

“Meet us in the entrance hall after dinner!” Tracey shot them a thumbs up while the other girls started giggling. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“If we eat quickly, we can catch Neville and Hermione before they get back up to Gryffindor tower,” Harry said. 

After they were finished, Blaise and Harry met up in the entrance hall with Tracey, Neville and Hermione. He led them up to the fourth floor corridor and stopped outside of the broom cupboard.

“Here we are!” he gestured towards it.

“Harry, I know we’re desperate, but I don’t think a cupboard is gonna cut it,” Tracey said, rolling her eyes. 

“No, no, inside the cupboard,” he said impatiently. Harry went inside and opened the hidden door, holding it open while his friends stumbled through.

“This is pretty decent,” Neville commented.

“Yeah. I like the hidden entrance,” Hermione said. She was still back at the entrance, examining the hidden catch in the wall.

“Harry, I think you may have found our place!” Blaise said, clapping his hands. 

“Agreed,” Tracey agreed. She swiped a finger along one of the dusty desks and examined it with disgust. “It needs a good clean, though.”

“That won’t be a problem!” Hermione said. “I found a book with some cleaning spells in it in the library the other day. We can try those out and have this place ready in no time.”

“We should try and add some furniture, maybe,” Harry suggested. “Something a bit comfier than those desks.”

“How about we get some stuff from home over Christmas?” Blaise said. “Cushions, posters, anything you can think of, really.”

“I could do that,” Neville said. Everyone else agreed.

“How about we go down to the library and check out that book you were talking about, Hermione?” Blaise suggested. “We can get started tomorrow, once we know the spells.”

The group spent the remainder of their week learning the cleaning spells and fixing up the classroom. They quickly managed to clear up the dust and cobwebs, and even washed the grimy windows. By the end of the term, their hideout was fit for use and ready for whatever furniture Harry and his friends managed to get over the holidays.

After a long train journey, where Harry and his friends had a massive exploding snap tournament, the Hogwarts Express finally pulled into the station. Harry spotted his family all standing together on the platform and felt his heart leap. He was finally going to see Jasmine and Sirius! As much as Harry had enjoyed Hogwarts, he’d missed them terribly. Letters just weren’t the same. 

“See you in January!” Blaise called as Harry loaded his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto a trolley.

“See you! Have a good birthday!”

“Harry!” Sirius smiled, pulling him into a hug. “It’s great to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too,” Harry said, grinning.

Next to them, Lily was fussing over Ollie while James looked on fondly. Jasmine wasn’t with them, to his disappointment. 

“How are you doing, kiddo?” James asked, ruffling Harry’s hair.

“I’m alright, thanks,” Harry said. 

“Did you play any good pranks at Hogwarts?” he winked. “I want to hear all about it!”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said with a grin.

“Don’t encourage him, James!” Lily scolded.

“I’m sorry to cut this short but we need to run, I’ve got to pick up Adhara from school,” Sirius said. James looked slightly crestfallen.

“Alright, then. Tell me everything when you come over next, alright?”

“Will do!” Harry said. Lily stopped talking to Ollie for a moment and gave Harry a hug before he and Sirius left.

They slipped through the barrier and into the main part of King’s Cross, where Sirius took the trolley from Harry and started pushing it.

“So, I was thinking we go home on my bike. How does that sound?” Sirius asked.

“Amazing!” Sirius had taken him out on the motorbike a couple of times, and Harry loved it. 

“Anyways, how was your term! Tell me everything!”

Harry grinned. “Well, I dyed Draco Malfoy’s hair blue for a start…”

“You what!” Sirius looked at him in awe. “Amazing! Did you know he’s my cousin Narcissa’s kid?”

“I didn’t.” Harry scowled. “I don’t really like him, though. He’s a bit nasty.”

“Well anyone I’m related to often is…”

Harry spent most of that evening telling his godfather and Adhara about what he’d been up to at Hogwarts. He and Sirius seemed to have an unspoken agreement to not bring up the month Harry spent ignoring him, which he was grateful for. He really wanted to put that behind him and forget about it.

Instead, they stuck to the lighthearted topics like lessons and Harry’s new friends. Sirius was thrilled that Harry and his friends had taken to exploring and had found their hidden classroom and promised to send him back to Hogwarts with some nice furniture for it. 

The next afternoon, Harry said goodbye to the Blacks and went over to the Potters for his usual weekend visit. 

As soon as he stepped out of the fireplace, however, Harry was tackled to the ground. He looked wildly around, but couldn’t see past the curtain of black hair obscuring his vision. 

Jasmine , he guessed.

“Harry!” she shouted as he tried to get his breath back. “I missed you so much!”

“Merlin, Jasmine!” he gasped, pulling himself off the floor. “When did you get so strong?”

“I’ve been training so that I can be a beater when I get to Hogwarts,” she said proudly. “Fred and George told me that you need to be really strong so you can hit the bludgers, so I’ve been trying to build up some muscle.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. Jasmine was practically a clone of their father, and had therefore inherited his lanky, skinny build. Not only that, but he wasn’t sure a ten-year-old girl could even get muscles. 

Jasmine, who had noticed the sceptical look on Harry’s face, gave him a playful shove.

“Don’t be like that! I know I’m still small, but I’ll be knocking seventh-years off their brooms by the time I’m at Hogwarts,” Jasmine said.

Just then, James came into the room.

“Harry! I see Jasmine’s already giving you the Quidditch spiel.” He laughed.

“Hi, Dad,” Harry said. “Is it just us three, then?”

“Yeah,” James said, giving him an apologetic look. “They’ve got some press briefing. Probably about Ollie’s first term at Hogwarts…I don’t really know, I wasn’t paying attention.”

James chuckled, running his fingers through his messy black hair.

“Can we all go for a fly until they get back?” Jasmine begged. “I’ve missed flying with other people.”

“Why not!” James said. “I want to see if Madam Hooch has trained you well, Harry. Are you enjoying flying lessons?”

“Not really,” Harry admitted. “We haven’t been allowed to do much.”

James winced sympathetically. “Oh well. Maybe you can try out for the House Team next year?”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, let's get going!”

They made their way over  to the Quidditch pitch, where Jasmine wanted to show Harry her new Beater skills. He was regretting the training kit he’d sent for her birthday - even though the bludgers provided were only made of rubber instead of the traditional iron used in Quidditch matches, they still hurt like hell if they hit you. Either way, Harry had fun dodging them, and Jasmine had fun hitting them at him and James.

After playing for a few hours, the sun was starting to set and James declared that it was time to go in so they could get cleaned up for dinner. Jasmine ran off ahead while Harry and his dad put the brooms away.

“So, Harry,” his father began as they walked back inside. “Can you let me in on where the Slytherin common room is? I managed to break into the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff common rooms, but never Slytherin.”

“Well, I’m not really supposed to tell you…”

“Please?” James begged. “It’s not like I’m a student, and it’s been bugging me for years!”

“Oh fine,” Harry said. It wasn’t like Snape could find out, anyway. “It’s located in one of the walls of the dungeons.”

“Is there a portrait? A certain brick you’d have to tap?”

“No, it’s just a blank stretch of wall. You say a password and it lets you in.”

“Wow.” James shook his head. “How did we never find that?”

“I don’t know.” Harry laughed. “It seems obvious to me, but I do live there.”

There was a brief silence.

“And you’re okay with it?” Harry asked hesitantly. James furrowed his eyebrows.

“Okay with what?”

“You know. Just the whole Slytherin thing.”

“Oh, yeah.” James paused for a moment. “I won’t lie, I was shocked, obviously. But it’s not a bad thing! A lot of Slytherins are good people. My boss, Rufus Scrimgeor, was a Slytherin, he’s a great bloke. I outgrew most of that bias years ago. I know people are much more complicated than their houses.”

He put an arm around Harry’s shoulder. He smiled at his dad.

“Thanks.”

“Listen, Harry.” James said solemnly. “You’re my son. I don’t care what house you’re in, it doesn’t matter. I’m always going to care about you, I promise.” 

A thoughtful look crossed his face.

“Actually I have something to give you. I was going to wait until Christmas, but I think now is a good time. Follow me.”

Harry followed his father up to the master bedroom, curious about what he had in store. Once they got there, James pulled a squishy parcel out from the bottom of his wardrobe and placed it on his lap.

“Did you know, Harry, that you’re the eldest twin?” James asked. Harry shook his head; he’d just always assumed Ollie was older.

“Well, it’s a Potter tradition to hand this down to the eldest son. Go on, open it up.” Harry complied, and pulled out a beautiful, silvery cloak.

“Is this what I think it is?” Harry breathed, holding the cloak out to admire the shimmering fabric.

“It’s my old invisibility cloak,” his dad said with a smile. “Go on, try it on!” 

Harry complied and gasped as his body disappeared from beneath him.

“Woah!” he said, twirling around. “This is wicked!” 

He’d heard James and Sirius’ stories about the cloak, of course, but he couldn’t have imagined how amazing the real thing was.

“This cloak is yours, now,” James said solemnly. “And I’m glad to give it to you. Maybe someday, if you have kids of your own, you’ll be able to pass it on, too.”

Harry ran over and hugged his father. This meant more to him than he could possibly put into words. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. James ruffled his hair.

“Use it well!”

Suddenly, the door opened. It was Ollie. He looked at James, then Harry, whose body was still invisible.

“Dinner’s ready,” he mumbled, before running off. James sighed.

“How about you put that away and we head down?” His father sent a guilty look at the open doorway. “I’m going to go and check on him.”

“Okay.” Harry folded up the cloak and carried it down to his room. As he placed it safely in his bag, he couldn’t stop thinking about the stricken look on Ollie’s face.

Dinner ended up being very awkward. Ollie barely spoke the entire meal and quickly excused himself once they had finished eating. Lily, who had noticed his odd behaviour, sent Jasmine and Harry away soon after so she could talk to James alone. As soon as the door shut, Harry noticed raised voices coming from inside the dining room.

“Let’s go,” Harry muttered, heading in the direction of the library. 

“Do you know why they’re arguing?” Jasmine asked. Harry quickly checked around them to make sure Ollie wasn’t lurking somewhere.

“Dad gave me the invisibility cloak,” Harry told her. “Ollie walked in on us. He seemed pretty upset.”

Jasmine winced sympathetically. 

“He would be,” she said. “He’s always expected to get it, I think, so he probably wasn’t too happy.”

Harry felt a pang of guilt. “Why did Dad even give it to me, then?”

“Well, you’re the oldest,” Jasmine said. “That’s just how it is. Don’t let him spoil it, Harry. I didn’t get a magic cloak and I’m not throwing a fit, am I?”

“I guess,” Harry said, still feeling a bit bad. 

“Come on,” Jasmine grabbed his hand and pulled him into the library. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. We need to have a proper catch up!”

“Alright,” Harry smiled at her and sat down in his favourite red armchair. He started to catch her up on everything that had happened that he hadn’t already written to her about until the fire had burned to embers. By the time they went up to bed, all thoughts of Ollie had gone from his mind.

The next day, Harry hopped on his bike and cycled to the park to meet up with Dan. He had missed his friend a lot; it took a ridiculously long time for letters to muggles to be delivered through the muggle postal service, so they only got to speak to each other once or twice a month. Even then, Katie had hijacked most of their letters trying to get Harry to sell cigarettes.

When he arrived at the park, Dan was already there waiting for him.

“Harry!” he shouted. Harry grinned.

“Good to see you, mate,” He said, dumping his bike. “How have you been?”

“Alright. But who cares about me?” Dan said impatiently. “I wanna hear all about you! Tell me about that posh school of yours. What’s it like?”

Harry gave Dan a heavily censored version of his first term at Hogwarts. He couldn’t talk about any of the magical aspects of it, of course, but there was still plenty to tell. Harry had just gotten to his fight with Draco when he was interrupted by a shout. 

He turned around and saw Katie walking towards them. She looked quite different - her purple-streaked hair had been dyed black, and she had put on dark, heavy makeup that made her look much older. 

“Harry! You’re back!” she said gleefully. “How was school?”

“Alright,” he said shyly.

“I wish you went to Highgate Academy with the rest of us,” she said, sitting on one of the swings. “We never get to see you now!”

“I do too,” Harry lied. He was actually quite glad he didn’t go to Highgate - he loved Hogwarts, even though he had to put up with Draco and Ollie. Going from that to a muggle school would have been unbearable.

“I guess it’s not all bad,” Katie sighed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “You can sell these there! Good job on that, by the way. I knew you’d be a natural.”

“Thanks!” Harry said, beaming. Even though it had been difficult at the time, it meant a lot that Katie was proud of him. 

“How about you do it again for me?” she winked. “I know you said I couldn’t mail you anymore unless someone saw, but I can send you in with them, right?”

“I’m not sure…” Harry said doubtfully. He wasn’t sure if their luggage would get checked, even though he hadn’t heard of it happening.

“Oh come on Harry, please?” Katie begged. “You’re really good at it! You’ll get a bit of extra spending money, and I will too. You know I need it, with the state my family’s in.”

Harry didn’t know that much about Katie’s home situation, but he had gotten the impression that it wasn’t exactly pleasant. She’d made a few comments about her dad, who sounded like a remarkably unpleasant man.

“Fine,” he said begrudgingly. “I’ll come pick them up when I’m around next week. I don’t have my bag with me today.”

“That’s fine!” Katie said, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“So, I heard you telling Dan that you were fighting!” She said in a mockingly stern voice. “Did you win?”

“I did!” Harry laughed. 

By the time Harry got back to Potter manor, he felt like he was walking on air. He’d gotten to see Dan and Katie again, he’d had a catch-up with Jasmine, and life couldn’t be better. 

Of course it didn’t last.

Harry opened his bedroom door and gasped. It looked like it had been hit by a tornado. His bed had been stripped and the sheets were strewn about. All his clothes were mysteriously soaked in water, and his books were thrown all over the place.

Harry heard glass crack. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself so he wouldn’t shatter the window completely.

“Ollie,” Harry growled, clenching his fists. This was obviously his handiwork. He was upset about the cloak, and whenever he was upset, he ruined Harry’s things. 

This reminded him far too much of the night before he’d ran away. Nothing was broken or damaged this time - just thrown around - but it still made Harry want to scream with anger. He’d grown up with nothing . The few things Harry had owned were always destroyed by Dudley. Ollie was just the same. He wanted to scream.

Why couldn’t Ollie let him have this one thing with his father?

Instead of marching over to his brother’s room and punching him, however, Harry started to pack. He put everything he needed into his bag and marched into the living room, where his parents were drinking tea and talking.

“Harry?” James asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going back to Sirius’ house early,” he said through gritted teeth. “Bye.”

“Wait a second!” Lily protested, scrambling to her feet. “You were supposed to stay another night! Why are you going now?”

“Ask your son why he trashed my room again !” Harry shouted. “I’m not staying here if he’s going to treat me like crap! Now I am going to Sirius’ house, where people will actually leave me alone! Goodbye.”

“What do you mean he trashed your room?” James asked, looking furious. 

“Exactly what I said!” Harry yelled. “And I am sick of him throwing a tantrum about everything and always taking it out on me! If you want to deal with him, fine. Whatever. But I am done.”

Harry stalked out of the living room, ignoring his father calling after him. 

He grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the flames with particular vigour.

“16 Victoria Avenue!” he shouted, stepping into the green flames. 

The fireplace spat him out into the living room. Sirius, who had been sitting on the sofa, jumped.

“Harry! What are you doing here so early?” he asked. “Did you forget something?”

“Ollie trashed my room,” he yelled, still brimming with rage. A teacup on the table shattered. “ Again! He is such a jealous bastard! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him !”

“Okay,” Sirius said, taking Harry’s forearms. “We need to calm down. Take some deep breaths with me, alright? In, out.” He demonstrated, and Harry copied. After a few minutes, Harry felt the anger dying down, and his mind clearing.

“Better?” Sirius asked. Harry nodded. “Good. Now let’s-”

The fire turned green, and James stepped out into the living room. Sirius scowled.

“James, this really isn’t the time,” he said exasperatedly.

“Can I just have a  word?” he said. “I’ll be a minute, tops. Please?” Sirius sent Harry a questioning look. He shrugged.

“Fine,” Sirius said. “But make it quick.”

“Listen, Harry, I’m not just going to let Ollie walk all over you,” James said. “I know he did last year, and I know I was partially responsible for that, but it is not going to happen anymore, okay?”

Harry crossed his arms and didn’t say anything.

“He is going to be punished. Harshly. I will do whatever it takes to make him treat you civilly, I promise.” He looked at Harry, wide-eyed. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pushed out of your own home, okay? If you want to come over I’ll keep him away from you.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered. “But I think I should just stay here for now. I just don’t want to be around him.”

Disappointment flashed across James’ face.

“Okay,” he said. “And I’ll fix up your room as soon as I get back. I’m really sorry about him.”

He checked his watch.

“I think my minute’s up, so I’ll be off then,” James said. “Will we be seeing you at Christmas?”

“We’ll be discussing that,” Sirius said.

“Okay then. Love you, Harry.” 

James grabbed some floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. Once he was gone, Harry sighed.

“Tea?” Sirius asked. 

“Yes, please,” Harry glanced guiltily over to the shattered remains of Sirius’ teacup on the table. 

“Reparo.” With a flick of his wand, the teacup returned to its original form. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just relax now, alright?”

In the end Sirius and Harry agreed that they would still go over to the Potters’ for Christmas, although they wouldn’t stay the night like they’d originally planned. 

Like last Christmas, it was incredibly awkward. James forced Ollie to give Harry a very half-hearted apology, which he awkwardly accepted. His brother then spent the rest of the day sitting in the corner sulking and glaring at anyone who tried to talk to him. Other than the usual Potter drama, though, Harry had a good time. He’d gotten lots of presents from his friends, which surprised him a little. He'd sent them gifts, of course, but hadn’t  really expected anything in return. 

Not only that, but Adhara had also come over with Sirius this year, so for once Harry had his entire family all in one place. They all took a photo, which Harry stuck on his wall when they got home later that night. The sulking Ollie kept walking out of the frame, so it was perfect.

Harry also went over to the Potters for one final weekend before his next term at Hogwarts, with the promise from his parents that Ollie would be leaving him alone. He felt a little bit bad for walking out without saying goodbye to his sister and wanted to spend a bit more time with her before he went back to school. 

Not only that, but Harry needed to pick up the cigarettes from Katie. He managed to sneak away on the second day and cycle down to the park to pick them up. Unfortunately for Harry, she gave him a lot more than he’d anticipated.

“An entire shoebox?” he said weakly, shoving it into his backpack.

“Well, I can’t send anything to you during the school year, can I?” Katie protested. “Come on Harry. You made a promise.”

He took extra care to hide the shoebox in his bag when he returned home that evening, and covered it with a jumper he’d brought with him. Harry was just zipping up the backpack when Jasmine burst into the room, almost giving him a heart attack.

“God, Jazz, you scared the life out of me!” Harry tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat. If she’d seen him doing up his bag…

“Are you leaving now, then?” she asked, looking disappointed.

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry said. “Sirius wants me to be there in time for dinner.”

Jasmine ran forward and gave him a hug.

“Make sure you keep writing to me next term!” she said.

“I will,” Harry promised. “Keep practising your flying while I’m away. You’ll be ready to join the England team by the time I’m back, I’m sure of it.”

That managed to get a smile out of her.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately for Harry, his second term at Hogwarts got off to a bad start. The brief ceasefire Ollie and Harry had had over Christmas had clearly ended, and Ollie and his gang were now making his life a living hell.

Harry was subjected to a number of vicious attacks - his belongings kept going missing, including his homework, earning Harry a number of detentions. He was hexed every time he turned his back, and one day he even found a snake hidden in his bed. Harry was just relieved that wizards could speak to snakes - if not, he was sure the thing would have bitten him.

Worst of all, Harry’s friends started getting attacked, too. Hermione told him that Neville had to hop all the way back up to Gryffindor tower after Draco cast a leg-locking jinx on him. Blaise, who was Harry’s most vehement supporters, was getting cursed in the halls almost as regularly as Harry himself was. Harry had even overheard Tracey comforting a sobbing Hermione in the library one night, after Draco had called her a foul name. 

All of this, of course, made Harry feel terribly guilty. He started to cut himself off from his friends so that Ollie would leave them alone. They quickly noticed, and Blaise and Tracey made a point to drag Harry off to their secret room as often as possible. Harry still managed to slip away whenever he could, though. He knew it was for the best - all he did was make other people’s lives miserable. It was better for all of them if he just took himself out of the equation.

Instead, Harry started focusing his attention on selling the cigarettes to older years to try and distract himself. This didn’t exactly help; it was incredibly stressful to try and hide what he was doing from the professors. He started smashing things whenever he was alone to release the pent-up rage, but that didn’t help, either. Harry was just too angry - he thought Hogwarts would be reduced to rubble before he was calm.

Harry even tried blowing off some steam by pranking Ollie and his friends using the cloak, but his heart wasn’t really in it. They’d only take out their annoyance on him, after all; what was the point?

It was only a matter of time before Harry reached his breaking point. That day arrived in late January.

Harry was being dragged to the secret room by Blaise, and was struggling to think of an excuse to get out of it, when they overheard shouting in a nearby corridor. They both quickly made their way to the source of the noise. 

To Harry’s disgust, he found Ollie and Draco there, laughing at Neville. He was being held against a wall by Vince and Greg, and his legs were kicking uncontrollably.

“Beg me to make it stop and I will, Longbottom,” Draco sneered, twirling his wand between his fingers. “What should I do next?”

“P-please!” Neville gasped. Furious, Harry stepped forward with his wand drawn. Blaise was only a step behind him.

“Rictusempra!”

“Petrificus totalus!”

Their combined spells left Malfoy frozen on the floor, stuck under the effects of the tickling charm. It was a devious spell combo that Harry and Blaise had come up with a few weeks ago. If Harry wasn’t so angry, he might have felt a flicker of pride.

“Finite incantatem!” Harry shouted, releasing Neville from whatever spell he’d been under. Vince and Greg released him and he fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

“You two back away, or you get it next.” Harry jabbed his wand, and the two boys took a step back. Greg cracked his knuckles, trying and failing to look menacing.

“Oh, come on!” Ollie whined. In all the commotion, Harry had almost forgotten he was there. “We were just having a bit of fun, weren’t we, Nev?”

This comment finally pushed Harry over the edge. 

“I hate you so much!” he shouted, fists clenched. “What the actual hell is your problem?”

Ollie’s face contorted into a sneer. 

“You hate me ?” he said disbelievingly. “You’re the one that just popped up and ruined everything! My life was great until you came along! I wish you'd never come back!”

“Oh yeah?” Harry took a step forward and poked his wand into Ollie’s chest. “Well I wish Voldemort had actually finished the job. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with you either!”

Everyone gasped, and Harry knew he’d probably gone too far. Still, he was too angry to care. All he wanted was for Ollie to feel as hurt and angry as he did. 

“Conjunctus!” Harry shouted. Ollie’s eyes started turning a bright red, and he started rubbing at them.

“Patella viccisim!” Ollie screeched, and Harry gasped. His knees were on fire - something was very wrong.

“Tarantellegra!” Harry yelped. Ollie narrowly rolled out of the way of the purple jet of light, but dropped his wand and fell to his knees. His eyes were now almost completely swollen shut.

“Flipendo!” Harry hissed. The spell hit Ollie right in the chest, sending him flying backwards. 

Unfortunately, Harry had misjudged the strength he needed to put behind the spell. Ollie went a lot further than expected. He flew all the way through the nearby entrance and down a set of stairs.

A sickening crack echoed through the room. A moment later, Ollie started screaming.

Vince and Greg instantly ran down the stairs, white-faced. Harry dropped his wand.

“Merlin, Harry!” Blaise shouted, running up to him. Harry fell to the ground, still in dreadful pain. His knees hurt terribly.

“It was an accident…” he whispered, staring at his shaking hands. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to, Blaise, I’m sorry!”

“It’s a small staircase, Harry,” Blaise said frantically as a nearby window cracked. “Three or four steps at the most. Vince and Greg are with him now.”

I’m a monster. What’s wrong with me? How could I do that? Harry felt sick. 

“What is going on here?” a voice shrieked. It was Professor McGonagall, who Neville had fetched.

They’re going to kick me out. 

Harry felt his throat constrict. What would happen to him if they kicked him out? Would they send him to Azkaban?

“Professor, over here!” Vince shouted. McGonagall began to run towards the stairwell.

“Harry, you need to calm down!” Blaise’s voice seemed to be coming from somewhere very far away.

“I didn’t mean to, please,” Harry said over and over, until a jet of red light hit him and the world went black.

Harry groaned. He was in a soft bed, and his knees still ached, although it wasn’t anything like the pain he’d experienced before.

“Awake, Mr Potter?” A voice said. Harry’s eyes shot open and he saw Professor Snape sitting by his bedside. He instantly flinched back.

“Calm down, Potter, or Madam Pomfrey will have my head.” Snape stared at him, face inscrutable.

“Please don’t kick me out!” Harry begged. “It was an accident, I swear! I didn’t mean for him to fall down the stairs!”

“You are not being expelled, Potter,” Snape sighed, and Harry felt his racing heart calm a bit. “I have spoken to Mr Zabini, who told me your side of the story. Is it true that your brother and Mr Malfoy have been treating you badly this term?”

Harry stared at his lap, refusing to meet Snape’s eyes. The man sighed.

“I suppose that is yes, then. Why didn’t you come to me, Potter?”

Harry shrugged, still refusing to look up. The curtains around Harry’s bed flew open. It was Madam Pomfrey, who was holding an array of potions.

“Stop interrogating the boy, Severus.” she scolded. “I need to check him over before he’s discharged.”

“Very well.” Snape stood up from his chair. “I will be in my office, Potter. I expect you to be there as soon as you’re discharged.”

He swept away, black robes billowing behind him.

Madam Pomfrey fussed over Harry for quite a while, making sure his knees were working properly. Apparently, it was a lot harder to put kneecaps back to the way they were after they’d been reversed. Harry held out hope that she would keep him in longer - that way, he wouldn’t have to face Snape. Unfortunately for Harry, he was given a pain-relieving potion and sent to his doom.

As Harry walked out of the hospital wing, he noticed Madam Pomfrey slip behind another curtain. Dread pooled in his stomach. That must be Ollie.

As Harry walked to the dungeons, he started catastrophizing. What if Ollie wasn’t dead, but permanently brain damaged or something? And even if Harry wasn’t going to be expelled, what would be done to him in the meantime? By the time Harry knocked on the door of Snape’s office, he was shaking like a leaf. 

“Sit down, Potter,” Snape ordered. Harry obeyed, trying not to gulp as the door slammed behind him.

“I would like to continue our conversation from the hospital wing,” Snape said, lacing his fingers together. “Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter have been bullying you and your friends this term, correct?”

“They weren’t bullying me,” Harry muttered. That made him sound so weak. “Ollie was just annoyed about something that happened over Christmas. Besides, I can defend myself.”

“That much is apparent, Potter,” Snape said dryly. Harry winced.

“Either way, I am not impressed with their behaviour. They have been rather horrible to you and your associates. Was there any reason you didn’t come to me?”

“I just thought if I waited it out, he’d get bored,” Harry said, biting his lip. “He normally tones it down a bit once he calms down.”

Harry didn’t mention the fact that Snape wasn’t exactly approachable. In fact, from what he’d seen so far, the man genuinely hated him.

“Well, either way I am not happy with his behaviour.” His eyes narrowed. “And I am not happy with yours either, Potter.”

Harry shrank back in his seat. Here it comes, he thought gloomily.

“Instead of asking an adult to deal with your problems, you decided to take matters into your own hands.” Snape scowled. “And by that, I mean you decided to tell your brother that you wished the Dark Lord had murdered him as a baby. Then you threw him down a staircase and broke his skull. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t mean for the staircase thing to happen,” Harry mumbled, horror creeping over him. Ollie’s skull was broken?

“You’re just lucky no permanent damage was done to him, Potter!” Snape said, voice raised. “I understand that you were angry. Most people would be in that situation. But you need to learn to control your temper!”

“I know,” Harry said, fighting back tears. “I just get so angry sometimes. I feel like I’m not even in control of what I do.”

“And that, Mr Potter, is why you will now be attending weekly counselling with me.”

Harry looked at the man in horror.

“Sir!” he protested. 

“Did you not just say to me that you don’t feel like you’re in control of your own actions, Potter?” Snape asked exasperatedly. Harry nodded. “Well then would you not agree that you are in need of help?”

“I just don’t want to talk to someone, sir,” he mumbled. If he had to get help , then that meant something was wrong with him. Harry didn’t know if he could deal with that.

“Potter, it is not up to you,” Snape said. “I believe this is the right course of action. Your parents and Black agree with me.”

“You spoke to Sirius?” Harry’s feeling of horror intensified.

“Yes, Potter, don’t look so shocked. I had to inform your parents and guardians about this incident, didn’t I?” 

Harry resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. He didn’t even want to imagine how his parents were going to respond to all this. Worst of all, he knew Sirius would be upset with him. His godfather had been begging him to see a mind healer for months and Harry had fought him every step of the way. Maybe, if he’d just listened , none of this would have happened.

“You will also be receiving a month's detention,” Snape said. “I understand that you were being bullied, but the level of violence you responded with was unacceptable. You need to ask for help if something like that is going on, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

“Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter will also be punished,” Snape added. “As I said to you in September after your last fight, I do not tolerate bullies. Maybe this will teach the lot of you to finish this ridiculous feud.”

Harry just hoped he wouldn’t be made to do any of his detentions with them. That would have been unbearable.

“Now, I expect you, Mr Zabini and any of your other friends to stay away from them,” Snape said sternly. “The four of them will be getting the same orders from me. None of you will insult each other, pick fights with each other, play pranks on each other, anything . You all clearly can’t help yourself, so you all need to keep away from each other. If I hear that this has been disobeyed, I will take whatever steps I deem necessary to make it stop, and I promise you will not like it, Potter.”

Harry gulped. “Yes, Sir.”

“One last thing,” Snape said. He looked quite conflicted. “I’ve been thinking of ways for you to channel your anger. Sports have been known to help, so I’ve decided you’ll begin training with the Quidditch team.”

Harry felt his heart soar.

“Really?” he asked, not quite believing it.

“Yes, really.” Snape rolled his eyes. “This isn’t a reward. You won’t be playing in matches, but Marcus will be putting you through the same exercise regimen that the rest of the team faces. When you experience it, you won’t be so happy with me.”

Despite what Snape was saying, Harry still felt like it was a reward. He would get to actually fly properly! 

“You’d better not slack off,” Snape warned. “I want you to work just as hard as the rest of the team. If you don’t, I’ll find something else for you to do that will be far less desirable, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said fervently. He was getting the opportunity to take part in Quidditch as a first-year! He definitely wouldn’t do anything to screw that up.

“Well, I suppose we’re done here, Potter,” Snape said. “I suggest you go find Mr Zabini and the rest of your little gang. They’ve been quite worried, you know.”

Harry felt another surge of guilt. He’d known he shouldn’t have avoided his friends, but he’d felt like it was necessary.

“Marcus will be speaking to you about Quidditch soon, and I will be seeing you in my office at 4 o’clock on Wednesday for our first session.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, excitement fizzling a little.

“You may leave then, Potter. And remember, stay away from them .”

Harry walked from the office, Snape’s dire warnings still echoing in his ears. He decided to go to the secret room first - it seemed most likely that his friends would all be in there. As he opened up the false back of the cupboard, he saw them all sitting at one of the tables Blaise had brought back after Christmas and talking quietly. Everyone stared at Harry and fell silent.

“Um. Hi?” he said weakly. Did they all hate him? Were they all about to ditch him for what he did?

“How are your knees?” Blaise asked after the silence went on for a bit too long.

“They just ache a bit. It’s not too bad.” 

The silence descended again.

“Look, I’m really sorry about everything that happened,” he burst out. “I shouldn’t have said that stuff about Voldemort to him, I shouldn’t have hurt him that badly. Oh, and I’m really sorry I was avoiding you for the last few weeks. I just thought they’d all leave you alone if I was out of the picture."

Harry stared at his shoes.

“I understand if you guys don’t want to be friends with someone like me anymore.”

“Of course we still want to be your friend!” Neville burst out.

“Yes, Harry. What you did was bad, of course, but the others told me you were provoked.” Hermione added.

“And in case you forgot, they were treating the rest of us like dirt, too,” Tracey said. “I get it. If you hadn’t snapped, I probably would have soon enough. I can’t stand those entitled prats.”

“You’re my best mate,” Blaise said. “And I wouldn’t ditch you for anything! Don’t worry about that. Just don't cut yourself off again, alright?”

“I won't. Thanks, guys,” Harry said with a small smile. “And I’m gonna work on my anger, I promise. I won’t let it happen again.”

“We’ll be here for you through it all,” Neville promised. Harry went over and hugged him. Blaise joined, as did the girls. Soon enough, they lost their balance and fell to the ground in a laughing heap.

“Now how about we do something fun?” Blaise suggested once they had all brushed themselves off. “It's been a long day, and I think we deserve a break. Exploding Snap, anyone?”

“Sounds great!” Tracey said.

As they began to set up the cards, Harry reflected that he was really lucky to have friends like these.

Chapter Text

On Wednesday at 4 o’clock, Harry nervously knocked on the door of Snape’s office. 

“Come in,” Snape said, and Harry pushed the door open. He found Snape at his desk with two steaming cups of tea on his desk. He felt a bit bewildered - this wasn’t what he’d been expecting. 

“So,” Snape said as Harry sat down. “Anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“I’m not really sure,” Harry said. He didn’t particularly want to talk to Snape about anything.

“Are your family giving you a hard time about the incident?” Snape asked. Harry winced.

“A bit.”

Lily, of course, had been furious.

Dear Harry,

I have just received a letter from Professor Snape about what you did. 

How dare you attack your brother like that? He could have been killed! What if that staircase had been longer? It is absolutely unacceptable for you to resort to violence whenever someone does something you don’t like. You have a nasty temper, and if you don’t get yourself under control soon, you’ll end up expelled, or worse. Next time your brother does something like that, inform a teacher. It is not up to you to take the law into your own hands. 

If you do not attend every single one of those meetings with Professor Snape, there will be serious consequences, young man. 

I am extremely disappointed in the both of you.

Mum

The letter hadn’t really affected him much. What did it matter if his mother was angry? He was already angry enough at himself.

To Harry’s surprise, he also received a separate letter from James. His parents normally wrote their letters together.

Dear Harry,

I heard about what happened with Ollie. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.

Professor Snape mentioned that Ollie and Draco have been pretty nasty to you this term. If they keep bullying you, please come to someone before it gets that bad again. You can talk to me, or Sirius, or one of your Professors.

I promise you that I will sort out your brother. I was a bit like him at Hogwarts. I treated some people terribly, and I won’t let him act the way I used to. You have my word.

Just try not to do that again, alright? I’m not going to lecture you about it, don’t worry - I’m sure you’re getting enough of that from everyone else.

Also, please don’t tell your mother about me writing a separate letter? She’s been having quite a difficult time lately with her health, and I don’t want her to get upset about me going behind her back. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to support you, okay?

Look after yourself, and I’ll see you soon.

Dad

Somehow, this had actually made him feel a lot worse. Even though James hadn’t outright said anything, Harry could tell he was disappointed in him. For some reason, that made him feel awful.

Harry’s only comfort had been that Ollie hadn’t gotten off scot-free. James and Lily were also angry with him, if his scowls at breakfast were anything to go by. As he walked past, he noticed the words ‘disgusting bully’ and ‘thug’ on the parchment. At least his parents were equally as angry, for once.

Sirius’ response had been the worst of all. He hadn’t seemed angry or disappointed - he had been hurt . The letter had begged Harry to come to someone before his anger got that bad again. He almost seemed to blame himself, which made Harry feel terrible. 

It was the only reason he’d decided to properly try in these sessions with Snape.

“Are your brother and Mr Malfoy behaving themselves?” Snape asked. “Are they leaving you alone?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. Apart from some dramatics from Ollie, who had spent most of his first evening back clutching his head and sighing, they had left Harry and his friends alone.

“You and Oliver obviously don’t get on, but how do you find the rest of your family? You have a sister, I believe?”

“Yeah, Jasmine,” Harry smiled. “She’s my best friend. I really wish she was at Hogwarts with me.”

“How old is she?” 

“She turned ten in October. She’ll be at Hogwarts the year after next.”

“Merlin, help me,” Snape rolled his eyes. “What about Black’s daughter?”

“Adhara? She’s pretty nice too,” Harry said. “I don’t see much of her, since she lives with her mum most of the time, but me, her and Sirius normally have dinner together on Friday nights. That’s always good.”

Harry smiled as remembered those dinners. Sirius would almost always order takeaway, with a quick ‘don’t tell your mother’ to Adhara. While they ate, Sirius would play an album on his enchanted record player. He claimed it was important for them to get a ‘proper musical education’. Adhara would eventually bully him into playing some ABBA songs - she was obsessed with them. Sirius would pretend to hate it, but Harry would always see him tapping his foot in time with the music and mouthing the lyrics when he thought nobody was watching.

Even though he loved Hogwarts, Harry really missed that.

After another half an hour of talking, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Snape said. A hulking sixth-year shuffled inside. Harry instantly knew this was Marcus Flint, the Quidditch captain.

“Marcus, this is Mr Potter, the first-year who will be joining you for practices,” Snape said. Marcus grunted.

“Alright, Potter?” he asked. Harry nodded. 

“First practice is at 6 o’clock tomorrow evening. Don’t be late.” Harry nodded vigorously. He wanted to make a good impression.

“Well, I think we’re done for today, Potter,” Snape said. “You may both leave.” 

“Okay. Thanks, sir,” Harry said, quickly leaving the office. As he hurried through the castle to meet his friends, Harry reflected that it hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected.

The next day, as Harry was hurrying through the castle to the Quidditch Pitch, he heard whispers from inside Quirrell’s classroom.

“Quick! Before someone finds us!”

“Merlin, it stinks in here!”

“All that garlic. We should hide it sometime!”

Harry poked his head around the doorway and saw Fred and George standing on Professor Quirrell’s desk and sticking something to the ceiling.

“Harry!” George said.

“Would you mind giving us a bit of a hand?” Fred said. “We want to get these stuck to the ceiling before Quirrell comes back.”

“It’s a bit hard for us to reach, so it’s taken a while.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said. It was always good to be on the twins’ good side, after all.

Fred and George gave him a boost and Harry started sticking translucent purple pellets to the ceiling, praying he wouldn’t fall. 

“What do these do, anyway?” he asked.

“They’ll drip on him throughout the lesson,” Fred said.

“It’s a form of a Babbling Beverage, it’ll make him talk nonsense.”

“Should be hilarious!”

“Let me know how it goes, alright?” Harry said. 

“Will do!” the twins chorused.

After Harry finished helping the twins, he checked his watch and realised with a jolt that he was going to be late. He sprinted through the castle and made it down to the changing rooms a minute before six.

“Potter,” Marcus said. “Cutting it a bit close, aren’t we?”

Harry’s cheeks flushed.

“That’s your locker over there. I’ve put a pair of Quidditch robes in there for you. If they’re too big, let me know and I’ll shrink them.”

Harry quickly got changed, very conscious of the fact that the rest of the team were all ready.

“Alright everyone, gather round!” Marcus shouted once Harry had finished. 

“We need to do some introductions. That’s Harry Potter, he’s going to be our reserve swing.”

The rest of the team grunted in acknowledgement.

“Isn’t he a firstie, Marcus?” one boy asked suspiciously.

“Yes, but he’s here on Snape’s orders,” Marcus said. “Potter, let me introduce you to the rest of the team.”

Marcus started shouting out names and pointing to people. There was the Seeker, Terence Higgs, who was finishing Hogwarts that year, and the boy who had questioned Marcus was called Miles Bletchley. He was the Keeper.

There were two Chasers in addition to Marcus: Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington, who were both twice the size of Harry. Finally, there were the Beaters, Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole, who were somehow even bigger. 

“Right, do one lap of the lake! Potter, stay here for a minute. Rest of you, off!” Marcus barked. The team began running in the direction of the lake, while Harry nervously lingered by the Captain.

“I know Snape’s decided you should train with us, but do you actually know anything about Quidditch, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “I’ve been flying for a year and a half now, and I’ve done drills with my dad for all the positions.”

Marcus grunted. Harry was quickly learning that this was his main mode of communication.

“I’ll test that when you get back from running,” Marcus said. “Go, Potter. I expect you to catch up to the others.”

Harry quickly ran off, trying his best to catch up with the other boys. He was a fast runner, but they all had the benefit of much longer legs, so they were almost three quarters of the way around the lake before Harry managed to join the group. 

By the time he got back to the pitch, Harry thought he was actually going to die. He had a horrible stitch and he couldn’t catch his breath. Snape was right; Marcus was brutal.

“Nice work, lads!” Marcus shouted. “Chasers, drill with Bletchley! You need to work on your timing, it’s too easy to tell what hoop you’re going for. Higgs, work on dodging the Beaters. You two need to work on your aim and Higgs, you need to work on actually avoiding the Bludgers. You’ve got a Nimbus Two Thousand, it’s not exactly difficult! I want us in top form for the match against Ravenclaw, people, now hop to it!”

The other boys hopped on their brooms and quickly flew to various points on the pitch. Marcus picked up an extra and shoved it at Harry.

“Potter, I know you said you trained to play Beater, but I cannot in a million years imagine you doing that,” Marcus said, eyes narrowed. “But I think you could do the other positions. Your role will be a swing - I want you to be a good, all-round player. You need to be able to chase, keep and seek. Understood?”

Harry nodded.

“Do you favour any position?”

“Seeker,” Harry said. Marcus gave him an approving nod.

“Yeah, you look like you do. You’re scrawny, that’s good.” he went into a box and pulled out some golf balls. 

“Time to play catch, Potter.”

Marcus began to throw the balls in the air, and Harry managed to catch all but one of them. When they finally finished, Marcus actually looked a bit impressed.

“You’re good,” he said. “Let’s try some other drills now.”

Firstly, he tested Harry’s skill as a Keeper. Harry didn’t do too well - he had never been good at tracking which hoop a player was aiming for, and only managed to block one goal. 

Finally, Marcus paired him up with the other two Chasers to practice passing the Quaffle. Harry was far better at this than he was at being a Keeper. He’d spent the last year playing Quidditch with his dad and brother, who were both Chasers, so he’d managed to pick up a couple of skills. By the end of the practice, Harry was sweaty and exhausted, but buzzing with happiness. He loved flying. 

“Good practice, lads!” Marcus barked. “Now, go get changed!” 

The rest of the team rushed off towards the showers. Instead of following after them, however, Marcus fell back to walk with Harry.

“Snape told me a little bit about your anger problem, Potter,” Marcus said. Harry felt his cheeks heat up.

“I’m a bit like you,” he remarked. “I got a lot of shit for being a half-blood when I was a firstie. I was really angry, got into a lot of fights. Then I got on the Quidditch team in second year, and channelled my anger into that.”

“And it helped?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Marcus stopped walking and looked at Harry. “If you ever need to punch something, go for a run, any of that, let me know, alright? You’re on my team now. We stick together.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiled at him.

“Now go hit the showers,” Marcus grunted. “I’ll see you at half 6 on Saturday.” 

“I’ve figured it out!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Figured what out?” Harry asked wearily. Quidditch practice and detention was taking a toll on his free time, and he was desperately trying to complete the Charms essay that was due the next day.

“Why you can do wandless magic, of course!” Hermione said. Blaise, who had stayed up to help Harry, leaned forward to listen.

“Wizards and witches who master wandless magic before school-age generally tend to have quite powerful, emotionally driven accidental magic,” Hermione said, reading aloud from a thick, dusty book. “That’s accurate right, Harry?”

He nodded.

“If a young magical person manages to tap into their accidental magic, they may be able to have mastery over a specialised, but limited area of wandless and non-verbal magic, be it pyrokinesis, aviation, or any other area that their magic is naturally inclined towards. For you Harry, that would be making things explode or break.”

“Is that why I can’t repair them after I break them, then?” he asked. “Since it’s so specific?”

“It is,” Hermione said. “The book also says that wizards who utilise wandless magic before they learn traditional spellcasting also tend to be more powerful in their area of specialty. That explains why your knockback jinx hit Ollie so hard. The force used to knock a person backwards is a type of explosion.”

Harry felt a pang of guilt at the reminder of the fight. If he’d known that his knockback jinx was that powerful, he wouldn’t have used it. At least, he hoped he wouldn’t have.

“Apparently you’ll also be able to master non-verbal and wandless magic much more easily, too!” Hermione said eagerly. “Of course, we won’t be learning any of that until N.E.W.T. level at the earliest, but isn’t it exciting?”

“It is!” Harry said. “Thanks for doing all this Hermione, you’re the best.”

Hermione blushed. “No problem! I really enjoyed it, actually.”

“I wish I’d learnt wandless magic as a child,” Blaise said gloomily. “It’s such a useful skill.”

“Don’t worry. If you need anything blown up, I’ll do your dirty work for you!” Harry joked.

Hermione suddenly gasped and gave Harry a stern look.

“Harry, you’re supposed to be finishing that Charms essay! Get back to work!” she ordered, shaking her head. With a groan, Harry started reading the textbook.

In late February, Harry was sitting in another one of his sessions with Snape when Marcus burst in the doorway, white-faced.

“Do you not know how to knock, Mr Flint?” Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s Higgs, sir!” he gasped. “He’s in the Hospital Wing!”

“We’ll have to cut this short, I’m afraid, Potter,” Snape said, getting to his feet. “I’ll see you next week?”

“See you then, sir,” Harry said. 

Later that night in the common room, Marcus gathered the Quidditch team for an emergency meeting.

“It’s bad news boys,” he said grimly. “I won’t go into detail, but Higgs is regrowing a lot of bones right now.”

Everyone winced sympathetically. Harry, for his part, tried to hide his horror. Regrowing bones? 

“Pomfrey isn’t letting him play in the match on Saturday,” Marcus said. “So Potter, you’re up as Seeker.”

“W-what?” Harry blanched.

“You’re the swing, aren’t you?” Marcus said. He looked even more worried than Harry felt, which did not inspire confidence. “That means you’re up.”

“I’m not even allowed my own broom!” Harry protested weakly. He’d never thought he would actually play in a match this year! He wasn’t ready!

“You’re borrowing Higgs’ broom,” Marcus said. “It’s a Nimbus. Any experience with it?”

“No! My broom at home’s a Comet 260!” 

Not only was he going to have to fly, he was going to have use a completely unfamiliar broom? How was he going to manage that? Harry buried his head in his hands.

“You’ll figure it out, Potter,” Bole said. He gave Harry a pat on the back which, coming from the muscular Beater, knocked the wind out of him.

“I’ve been told to inform you that if you break Higgs’ broom, he will personally kill you Potter,” Marcus told him. “So don’t.”

“Okay.” Harry gulped.

“Right boys, we need to practise immediately!” Marcus barked. “Whenever I can possibly book the pitch, we will be out there, flying! I expect the best out of you. Now, go get changed!”

“Yes, Flint!” The boys shouted, before running out of the castle and down to the Quidditch pitch. Harry still struggled a bit to keep up with them, although his stamina had improved during the last month of practices.

The rest of the week was one of the most physically testing things Harry had ever endured. Marcus had all of them, particularly Harry, drilling moves over and over until Harry thought he could catch the Snitch with his eyes closed. He was so busy that Hermione had even started letting him copy her homework. In a way Harry was grateful; he didn’t have time to be scared for the upcoming match when he was collapsing into bed exhausted every night.

He did have time to panic, however, when Marcus gave them all Friday off.

“You need to rest your bodies, team!” he said. “I want you all in top shape for tomorrow. Get a good night’s rest tonight, and I’ll see you all on the pitch.”

That evening, as Harry sat in the secret room with his friends, he started to freak out.

“I mean, there’s a reason people don’t let first-years onto the team!” he said, wringing his hands. “I’ve seen the Ravenclaw beaters! They could literally kill me!”

“You have Derrick and Bole to stop that from happening,” Tracey assured him.

“I’m actually going to die.” Harry flopped back onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “I’m a dead man walking.”

“You’ll be fine ,” Blaise insisted, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Madam Pomfrey is an expert at putting broken skulls back together! Just ask Hermione, she got hit by a troll and she’s still muddling through.”

“ Blaise !” she hissed. “Not helping!”

“Sorry, mate,” he grinned sheepishly.

“I’m next,” Harry groaned. “I’m going to be, like, Humpty Dumpty or something. All the King’s horses and men won’t be able to put me back together when I fall off my broom."

Blaise and Neville looked at him with confusion.

“Humpty Dumpty?” Blaise asked.

“Muggle thing,” Tracey explained.

“Well, we’re going to be supporting you through it all, Harry,” Neville promised. “Me and Hermione will be cheering you on from Gryffindor.”

“Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“I’ve bet three Galleons you’ll win, Harry,” Tracey said. “If that’s not support, I don’t know what is. Don’t lose, though. That’s all my money.”

“No pressure, then.” Harry rolled his eyes.

The next morning, Harry stared miserably at his toast. He couldn’t eat a single bite. 

“You know, if you don’t eat you’re more likely to faint, therefore heightening the odds of cracking your head open,” Blaise commented. Tracey smacked him.

“Ow!” Blaise yelped, rubbing his head.

“You’ll be the only one with a cracked skull if you keep talking, Zabini,” Tracey growled.

“Sorry, Harry,” Blaise mumbled.

“It’s fine,” Harry laughed. He really didn’t mind - Blaise’s jokes had helped him feel a bit less scared of whatever was going to happen to him out there.

After another ten minutes of him failing to eat anything, Harry made his way down to the changing rooms with the rest of the Slytherin team to get into his green Quidditch robes. 

“Alright, team,” Marcus said once they were all assembled. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Honour does not win you a Quidditch match. Whatever the ref doesn’t see is fair game - I want to win this match, and you’d all better do whatever it takes. Only losers whine about fouls.”

Potter,” he turned his attention to Harry, “All you need to do is get the Snitch. If Goldstein spots it first, knock her off her broom if you have to. I don’t care if it’s a foul, we can lose ten points as long as she doesn’t catch it before you. I don’t want you getting squeamish, got it?”

“Yep,” Harry nodded. He still felt incredibly squeamish, but Marcus didn’t need to know that.

“Let’s win, boys!” he barked. “Go Slytherin!”

“Go Slytherin!” they all shouted.

They all walked onto the pitch, the crowd screaming in the stands. Even though Harry’s legs felt like they’d turned to jelly, he still felt a little excited. His first real Quidditch match!

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the pitch as the two teams got into position.

“Now, I want a nice, clean game from all of you,” she said, glaring at Flint in particular. Harry could understand why, after listening to his pep talk.

“Mount your brooms, please.”

Harry clambered onto Higgs’ Nimbus Two Thousand, remembering at the last moment the threats of dismemberment if he broke it. 

Even if I don’t die in the match, he could still kill me later , Harry thought gloomily. He was doomed.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle, and they were off.

Harry looped the pitch, scanning for a glint of gold. He could hear Lee Jordan, a friend of the Weasley twins, commenting on the match below.

“Marcus Flint in possession - he passed to Adrian Pucey, Pucey passes to Warrington - no, Denbright intercepts it! She’s flying to the goal - she barely misses a bludger! - Flint back in possession - Slytherin scores.” Jordan groaned.

Not exactly unbiased, is he, Harry thought with a hint of irritation, before turning his attention back to the game.

Harry heard a faint whistle and barely dodged a bludger someone had sent his way. He returned to his original position, but nearly fell off as his broom suddenly lurched. 

Random gust of wind ? Harry wondered, but then the broom bucked again. Harry gripped as tightly as he could. What was going on? Was Higgs’ broom designed to reject foreign riders or something? If that had been the case, though, Harry would have felt it in the practices.

The broom lurched again. Harry yelped, holding on for dear life. He knew it; he was going to be next on the list of people who cracked their skulls open.

In the Gryffindor stands below, Hermione and Neville had noticed what was going on.

“What’s going on with his broom?” she gasped as the Nimbus started zig-zagging through the sky. 

“It’s like he’s lost control!” Ron said, looking through his binoculars.

“Ron, give me those!” Hermione snatched the binoculars from Ron and jammed them into her face.

The broom had started to roll over, and Hermione shrieked as Harry was knocked off, only barely holding on with one hand. By now, the entire crowd had noticed.

“Snape’s doing something to the broom!” Hermione hissed.

“What do you mean?” Neville asked, blanching. He was terrified of Snape.

“Let me take care of it,” Hermione shoved the binoculars back at Ron, and disappeared into the stands.

“Of course it would be Snape,” Ron muttered darkly, pressing the binoculars to his face. Neville found himself agreeing as he watched Harry’s broom start to vibrate. Marcus Flint and a few of the other huge Chasers Neville didn’t know the names of were trying to grab Harry, but every time they got close the broom seemed to jump away.

Moments later, shouting came from the teachers' stands. Professor Snape’s robes were on fire and he was desperately trying to stamp them out, knocking over Professor Quirrell in the process.

Up in the sky, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back onto his broom. Moments later, he descended into a deep dive.

“What now?!” Neville put his face in his hands. He couldn’t watch.

“Neville, he’s okay!” Ron shouted. “He’s...coughing?”

Neville peered at the ground of the pitch between his fingers. Harry was on all fours, coughing. Something gold fell into his hands.

“Potter catches the Snitch!” Lee Jordan shouted, sounding a bit glum. “Slytherin wins!” 

The green section of the stands exploded into cheers.

“You’re a legend, Potter!” Marcus roared. He and the other Chasers pulled Harry onto their shoulders. 

“I can’t believe you swallowed it!” Warrington said, laughing. Harry couldn’t quite believe it either; one minute, he’d been about to fall off his broom, the next, he had won a match!

They carried Harry out of the changing rooms, cheering and yelling. Harry’s friends were waiting nearby.

“We’ll leave you with them, Potter,” Marcus said, putting Harry down. “Be quick! It’s time for a good-old Slytherin victory party!”

Hermione ran up to Harry and hugged him.

“You’re alive!” she said.

“You nearly did crack your head open!” Blaise said. He looked utterly horrified.

Tracey smirked at him.

“This is why you don’t speak these things into the universe,” she said, looking a bit smug.

“Harry, I think Snape did it,” Neville whispered once some of the commotion had died down.

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“We saw him muttering spells in the stands,” Hermione said in a low voice. “I set his robes on fire, and then your broom stopped freaking out!”

“You what ?”

“The details don’t matter!” Hermione said impatiently. “Whatever happened, Snape was up to something!”

“Hermione, I have private meetings with him once a week,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “If he wanted me dead, he’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“Maybe he needs to make it look like an accident or something!” she said. “Look, just please be careful, okay?”

“Oi, Potter!”

“For God’s sake ,” Harry muttered. Draco was making his way over. 

“I should have known you can’t even control a broom,” he sneered. Harry felt Blaise grab his arm.

“Honestly, why Professor Snape would allow a Squib like you on the team is beyond me-”

“What exactly are you saying about my decision making skills, Mr Malfoy?” A smooth voice said. The blood drained from Draco’s face.

“N-nothing sir!” he stammered, glancing around.

“No. You know exactly what you were saying.” Snape glared at him. “My office.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco mumbled, trudging away to the castle. 

“Congratulations on your victory, Mr Potter,” Snape said. “You’ve done Slytherin proud.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, Hermione’s warnings still echoing in his mind. Snape stalked off, presumably to deal with Draco. Or was it to do something more sinister? Harry tried to push those thoughts away. He had no reason not to trust Snape, after all. Right?

“How about we head up to the party?” Tracey suggested. “They’re going to want their star Seeker there!”

“Okay,” Harry said. He was excited; Slytherin could throw a wicked party. Not only that, but it was the perfect time to sell off some cigarettes. 

Hermione still looked worried.

“We’ll be fine, Hermione!” he insisted. “There’ll be loads of people there, so if Snape wants to murder me, there’s witnesses!”

“Harry!” she scolded.

“Don’t worry!” he said firmly. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

“See you,” she said. Harry thought she still looked doubtful

As Harry, Blaise and Tracey made their way to the Slytherin common room, they noticed a serious-looking Ron and Ollie talking in the deserted courtyard. They exchanged a quick look and silently agreed to eavesdrop. 

It was quite windy, to Harry's annoyance, which made it hard to listen in, but they still managed to catch a couple of words before Ron and Ollie went their separate ways.

“Snape, something about a stone, Fluffy and either Flannel or Flamel? Is that what we all got?” 

Blaise and Tracey nodded.

“It was definitely Flamel, not Flannel,” Tracey added.

“They’re definitely up to something,” Blaise said. “And I want to find out what.”

“We’ll keep our eyes and ears open,” Harry said. “Don’t go out of your way to dig though. I don’t want any of us to get caught up in one of Ollie’s half-baked schemes.”

“Good point,” Blaise said.

“So, let’s stop talking about them and go party!” Tracey said. Harry was inclined to agree. It was going to be a fun evening.

Chapter Text

As the spring term continued, Harry noticed Ollie and Ron were whispering more and more. Draco had even gotten involved, and the three of them spent every other moment skulking around the corridors, casting suspicious looks at any passerbys.

"It's like they're trying to draw attention to themselves," Tracey said as Draco and Ollie snuck out of the Slytherin common room one evening.

"I wonder what they're talking about," Harry said. “It must be something big, if they’re acting like that.”

"It's not like we can hear," Blaise sighed. "They’re being pretty careful. They'll see us coming from a mile away if we try to spy on them.”

Harry was suddenly struck by an idea.

"But what if they didn't see us?" he asked excitedly. Blaise frowned.

"How is that possible? It's not like we can turn invisible."

Harry just grinned.

"Harry…" Tracey said exasperatedly.

"I may or may not have an invisibility cloak,” he confessed.

“You what ?” Tracey looked at him in disbelief.

“Where did you get one of those?” Blaise demanded.

“My dad gave it to me at Christmas,” Harry said. “It was part of the reason Ollie was being so horrible to me in January.”

“Why did you wait this long to tell us?” Blaise asked. He looked a little bit hurt.

“I was trying to forget about it,” Harry said. “It reminded me of the issues between me and Ollie whenever I looked at it, so I haven’t been using it much.”

That wasn’t entirely the truth. Harry had been using the cloak for most of the term to sneak off and sell cigarettes, but his friends couldn’t know that. Still, Blaise and Tracey seemed to believe him.

“So are you going to use it to spy on them, then?” Tracey asked. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “When the right opportunity comes up, I’ll listen in and report back.”

From that day on, Harry started keeping his invisibility cloak on him at all times in case an opportunity presented itself. Every day, he got more and more suspicious, especially when Weasley mysteriously disappeared from lessons. Hermione and Neville said that he was in the hospital wing with some sort of infected bite.

One day, Harry finally had his moment. He was under the cloak, heading down to the greenhouses to give Darcy and Mike their cigarettes when he noticed Ollie and Draco furiously whispering to each other. Harry quickly changed course and started following them.

"He's absolutely insane!" Draco said.

"Just a few more days, and we can give him to Charlie," Ollie said. "Then it’s not our problem anymore."

"A few days is a long time, Ollie!" Draco hissed. Harry started following them up to the castle, trying to walk quietly. "It could literally burn his hut down by then!"

"A few days!" Ollie repeated. “That’s all we need.”

"Oh, and that's the other thing," Draco continued. "How in Merlin's name are we supposed to get a bloody dragon up to the astronomy tower in the middle of the night?"

Harry clapped a hand to his mouth, trying not to gasp. His brother had a dragon ?

"I'll nick Harry's invisibility cloak and chuck it over the crate or something, I don't know!" Ollie said.

No you bloody won’t ! Harry felt a surge of annoyance. Why did Ollie have to be so entitled?

"We have to do it for Hagrid, okay?" Ollie said. "He'll probably get sent to Azkaban if we don't help him!"

"I don't see why you're so loyal to that oaf," Draco muttered.

"Don’t call him that!"

They entered the castle and Harry stopped walking. His shoes would make too much noise on the stone; they'd hear him if he kept following them. Disappointed, he listened to their arguing fade as they walked inside.

Suddenly, Harry remembered he had business to take care of. With a frantic glance at his watch, he pulled the cloak off and rushed over to the greenhouses.

"Took you long enough!" Darcy said impatiently. "We don't just have all day, you know."

"Sorry, sorry," Harry muttered, pulling the cigarettes out of his pocket. 

"Flitwick’s been on the warpath," Mike muttered, lighting his cigarette with a flick of his wand. "He confiscated loads the other day, do you have any more you can give to us?"

"Not on me," Harry said. Darcy groaned.

"Well bring them tomorrow, alright? Now scram. I've gotta be quick, I've got O.W.L. revision." She shoved the sickles into Harry's hand and he walked off, feeling a bit annoyed. Why did she have to be so rude to him?

As Harry walked into the castle, he was struck by a sudden realisation.

Why am I even doing this?

It's not like he needed the money. His parents were rich. He had a trust fund, for goodness sake!

But Katie and Dan are your friends! The little voice at the back of his head said. 

But are they? They barely wrote to Harry, unless it was about the cigarettes. At Christmas, that was all they’d spoken about. Katie only ever showed interest in Harry when he was doing something for her.

Harry was starting to get the distinct impression that he'd been used, and he didn't like it.

Dan was more complicated. Harry knew Dan was a real friend, but he was wrapped up in the whole mess, which meant Harry was as well. But why ? Why couldn't he just hang out with Dan instead of working for some shady drug organisation? If Dan really liked Harry, he’d understand that.

At that point, he'd reached the secret room and pushed inside, where all his friends were sitting together.

"Any luck with the spying?" Blaise asked unenthusiastically.

"Actually, yes." 

Blaise immediately perked up.

"Well tell us then!"

"Hagrid had a dragon."

" What? " Hermione shrieked.

"You heard me," he said grimly. "And they're smuggling it to some Charlie guy in a few days.”

"You said Ron's involved, right?" Neville asked. Harry nodded. "He has an older brother called Charlie who works with dragons in Romania. That's probably him."

"So let me get this straight," Blaise said. "Your brother is smuggling an illegal dragon out of the country in a few days?"

"Yep."

"Oh, the things we could do with that kind of blackmail!" Tracey said, eyes glittering. 

"Shouldn't we go to someone about this?" Hermione asked worriedly. "Isn't it incredibly dangerous?"

"No way!" Harry said. "It’s not my problem. I don’t owe Ollie anything. If he gets expelled, I couldn’t care less."

“Let’s all still keep an eye on it though, okay?” Hermione said. 

“Sure.” Harry said.

After a few weeks of watching, however, Harry didn’t hear anymore about the dragon situation. He assumed they’d manage to smuggle it out of the school somehow. He knew they hadn’t gotten ahold of his cloak - he’d stashed it in the hideout for the last couple of weeks. Since the danger seemed to have passed, Harry put it back at the bottom of his trunk, hidden under his clothes. 

Either way, Harry now had bigger things to worry about than dragons - the end of year exams.

Hermione had drawn up revision timetables for all of them weeks in advance and was strictly enforcing them. Harry didn’t think he’d ever studied so much in his life, and he was utterly exhausted by the time June exams rolled around. He wanted to do well, and prove he was supposed to be at Hogwarts, but actually going about it was tiring.

It was nothing compared to Hermione’s revision, however. Harry wasn’t actually sure if she’d slept in the week before the exam. She was on edge constantly, and Harry didn’t see her go anywhere without her nose buried in a book.

Harry was, however, extremely grateful to have done all that revision when the actual exams were taking place. He didn’t envy Vince and Greg, who left every exam looking slightly queasy, or Neville, who struggled in high-pressure situations like tests. When he finished his exams, Harry left feeling confident that he’d performed reasonably well.

After the exams were over, Ollie’s suspicious behaviour started up again, worse than ever before. Harry couldn’t figure out what had sparked it; didn’t he get rid of the dragon? What else could possibly be going on? 

One day, when Harry and his friends were relaxing by the lake, he noticed Ollie, Ron and Draco having some sort of whispered argument as they walked away from  Hagrid’s hut. Harry decided that enough was enough - he was going to eavesdrop.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he muttered to his friends.

Harry quickly made his way into the castle, hiding around various corners until he caught up with them in a deserted corridor in the dungeons.

“Ollie, you can't!” Draco hissed. “You’ll be expelled if they catch you!”

“Voldemort can’t come back, Draco!” Ollie said. “I’ve got to stop him before he gets the Stone, no matter what. I’m the Boy-Who-Lived. It’s what I’m meant to do.”

There was a brief silence. Harry held his breath, praying they wouldn’t notice him.

Voldemort ? Harry didn’t know what was going on here but, if Ollie was telling the truth, it sounded serious.

“So when should I meet you outside the corridor?” Ron asked.

“What do you mean?” Ollie sounded confused.

“I’m not letting you take him on by yourself, am I?” Ron said. “I don’t want You-Know-Who coming back, either.”

Draco sighed.

“Well I suppose I ought to come as well, then,” he said. “I know far more about the Dark Lord than either of you two do. You’d be lost without me, really.”

“Are you two sure?” Ollie asked. “It’s going to be dangerous.”

“No more dangerous than it will be if You-Know-Who takes over!” Ron said. “So, what time?”

“Midnight,” Ollie said. “Meet us in the third-floor corridor.”

Harry quickly slipped away. He needed to get back to his friends and tell them what was going on - this was an emergency.

Later that night, Harry and Blaise sat in the common room, reading their books. Harry wasn’t paying any attention to the words on the page, however. He was waiting. Waiting to see if Ollie and Draco were really going to leave. He wanted to follow them and figure out what was going on.

It was getting quite late, and Harry could feel his eyelids drooping. Tracey had already called it a night and gone up to bed. Harry checked his watch - quarter to twelve. It was almost midnight. He just needed to stay awake a little bit longer…

“What are you two still doing down here?” Gemma Farley asked.

“Oh, you know. Just a bit of reading,” Harry lied.

“You two should go to bed,” she said sternly. “It’s almost midnight, and Blaise looks like he’s about to collapse. You can carry on acting like a bunch of Ravenclaws in the morning.”

Defeated, Harry and Blaise collected their things and started heading up to the dorm. He supposed that they could keep an eye on Draco on Ollie from there, since they shared the room. It would just be a bit harder to follow them when they did sneak out.

When they got up to the dormitory, however, something was very clearly off. Vince, Greg and Theo were all fast asleep, but the curtains around Ollie and Draco’s beds weren’t fully closed. Upon closer inspection, Harry discovered their beds were empty.

“We missed them!” Harry whispered, trying not to wake the others. “Let’s grab my cloak and go.”

“Bad news,” Blaise was staring at Harry’s open trunk. “They’ve taken it.”

“They what ?” Hot rage boiled up in Harry.

“Keep your voice down!” Blaise hissed. “We can still go after them. Gemma’s the last one in the common room. Once she goes to bed, we can run after them. We just have to keep watch.”

“Okay.” 

The two boys sat by the door, occasionally darting out to check if the common room was empty. Unfortunately, Gemma was something of a night owl and didn’t go upstairs for quite a while. By the time she finally left, it was one in the morning. 

“Let’s go now!” Harry whispered, pulling a robe over his pyjamas.

“Are you sure it’s still a good idea?” Blaise asked. “We don’t have the cloak anymore.”

“Something’s really wrong here,” Harry said. “It’s more important than points, whatever it is. Ollie thinks Voldemort’s involved.”

Blaise winced - he hated when Harry used the name. Harry started walking out into the common room, but stopped by the door.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he said. “He’s my idiot brother. It’s not your responsibility.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” Blaise said. “He may be your idiot brother, but you’re my idiot friend. We’re in this together.”

“Thanks, mate,” Harry said. “Now let's go find him.”

They began their ascent to the forbidden third-floor corridor, where Harry assumed Ollie would be. As Blaise had feared, it was very difficult trying to navigate the school without the use of the cloak. Harry was sure they would run into a teacher at any second, but they managed to make it out of the dungeons without incident.

They had less luck in the main school, however.

“Harry,” Blaise whispered in a trembling voice. “Look to your left.”

Mrs Norris was staring at them. Her red eyes were glowing eerily.

“There’s a broom cupboard just up the corridor,” Harry whispered back, frantically thinking. “Let’s get there now!”

They tried to run as silently as they could. Harry was horribly conscious of the sound of Filch’s shuffling footsteps coming around the corridor. The door shut with an unnecessarily loud click.

Please don’t let him hear it, Harry prayed.

“What is it, my darling?” Filch said. “I think there are some students out of bed!”

Harry felt Blaise stiffen. Filch was sure to check the broom cupboard. There was nowhere else you could hide in the corridor.

Think ! Harry berated himself. Could he run out and distract Filch to save Blaise? Was it better to stay hidden?

Suddenly, Harry was struck by an idea. There was a window around the corner. If he broke it, Filch would think they had gone that way.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and imagined the window shattering. He tried to summon all his fear and anger and push it towards the glass. 

Please…

Just when Harry was about to give up, he heard the tell-tale sound of glass hitting the floor.

“Come back here!” Filch screeched. “Vandalising school property! When I get my hands on you…”

His footsteps began to slowly fade into the distance. Harry could breathe again. He cracked open the door of the broom cupboard to check, and found the corridor was empty.

“Coast is clear,” he hissed. “Let’s go.” 

Harry started forward, staggering slightly and clutching his head. 

“You alright?” Blaise asked, concerned. 

“Fine,” he said. “Breaking big things like that always takes it out of me a bit. Now let’s go before Filch comes back.”

They hurried up the stairs to the third floor corridor, Harry steadfastly trying to ignore his dizziness.

“This is it,” Harry said as they came to the locked door. “How do we get in?”

“Alohomora.” Blaise waved his wand and the door clicked open. “Unlocking charm.”

They pushed the door open. Harry tried to stifle a gasp at what they saw. A massive, three-headed dog was asleep on the ground. Someone was playing the flute quite badly in the background. Upon closer inspection, he noticed Draco, blowing into the flute and dragging a half-conscious Ron out of a trapdoor. His eyes widened when they fell on Blaise and Harry, and he jerked his head towards Ron. Understanding his silent message, Harry and Blaise quickly stepped forwards and grabbed one of Ron’s arms each. They started dragging him out of the room, carefully avoiding the huge dog. Draco sprinted out after them, slamming the door shut.

“I have no idea what you two are doing here, but we need to go to the Owlery,” Draco said frantically. “Ollie is with the Dark Lord right now. As much as I can’t stand the doddering old fool, we need Dumbledore.”

“Why did you two leave him down there?” Harry asked. “He can’t survive that on his own!”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, Potter!” Draco huffed, crossing his arms. “There was a potion, only one person could take it. There’s no time to explain, we need to go now!”

“Right.” 

They started running through the corridors, Harry and Blaise still holding up Ron, who was struggling to walk on his own. When they got to the Entrance Hall, however, another person was already running towards them. It was Professor Dumbledore. 

He had a grave look on his face, and he was missing the usual twinkle in his eye. At that moment, Harry understood why even Draco thought they needed his help. Harry had never seen the man looking so furious. The air around him was almost crackling with power.

“Oliver’s gone after him, hasn’t he?” Dumbledore didn’t wait for a response before hurtling away.

“Well, I guess we’ve let him know, then,” Blaise said faintly.

“Now what do we do?” Harry asked. He felt a bit lost. 

“We drag Weasley to the hospital wing, I suppose,” Draco said with a disgusted glance at Ron. “That chess set hit him really hard. He was unconscious for quite a while, he could have gotten brain damage, you know. It’s not like there was much in there to begin with, though…”

“Can you stop being a snarky git for five seconds?” Harry demanded.

“Well I’ve had a bit of a stressful evening, Potter!” Draco snapped. “So you must forgive me if I’m not in the best of moods after almost dying -”

“Both of you calm down!” Blaise shouted. Harry and Draco both went silent. “There are bigger problems! Like Weasley’s massive concussion!”

Ron gave a groan of assent.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. Draco didn’t reply, but stopped glaring at Harry, which was probably his way of apologising. 

“Let’s go,” Blaise said, hoisting Ron further up. They all collectively dragged him to the Hospital Wing.

“What are you doing this late?” she demanded. “And what’s happened to Weasley?”

“Head injury,” Draco said. “He got smacked over the head by a giant chess piece.”

Madam Pomfrey noticeably paled.

“You haven’t been…”

“On the third-floor corridor? Yes.” Draco said bluntly. Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the doors bursting open. It was Professor Dumbledore, Ollie lying limp in his arms.

“Merlin’s beard, Albus!” she said, bustling over to them. “What on earth has happened to him?”

“Voldemort has been here tonight,” Dumbledore said, laying Ollie on a bed. Madam Pomfrey gasped.

“You don’t mean…”

“Luckily, young Oliver here stopped him,” Dumbledore said. “But it has made him quite ill.”

“I’d say!” Madam Pomfrey began muttering spells and waving her wand over Ollie’s small form. Dumbledore was surveying from her side.

“Should we just lay Weasley down here?” Blaise asked.

“I guess,” Harry said, helping him drag Ron over to an empty bed. Ron groaned, rubbing his head. Harry thought he noticed blood in his red hair.

The rest of them sat down on the chairs next to Ron’s bed and watched Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey. After a few minutes, Dumbledore noticed this.

“I’d suggest you three go to bed now,” he said gently. “Mr Potter will be fine, I assure you.”

“Thanks, sir,” Harry said. Dumbledore smiled.

“It’s no problem, my boy! Now, off to bed. If you run into Mr Filch, tell him you have my permission to be out this late.”

The three of them trudged back to the dorms in near silence.

"So what did you guys actually do there?" Blaise asked eventually.

"There was a series of tasks to get to the Philosopher's Stone," Draco said. Harry was quite surprised that the other boy was actually answering them. "It’s this stone that makes you immortal, which is what the Dark Lord was after. There was that three-headed dog you saw, a Devil's Snare, a giant chess set…that was what did Weasley in…”

"I don't understand why you helped," Harry said. "I didn't realise you would want to stop Voldemort's return."

As far as Harry knew, Draco's father was a Death Eater and would probably celebrate if Voldemort came to power again.

Draco scowled.

"Don't assume you understand me and what I want, Potter," he spat. "In case you haven't forgotten, we're not friends. I don't have to justify anything I do to the likes of you ."

He's back, Harry thought.

"Although…" Draco paused, looking conflicted. "I'll tell you this, Potter. Malfoys are Slytherins through and through. We look after ourselves and our own first and foremost. Someone from a family like yours couldn't understand."

They had reached the common room. Draco jutted his chin out.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to bed." He flounced off.

"Do you have any clue what that means?" Harry whispered once Draco was out of earshot.

"That's his roundabout way of saying that the Malfoys only care about saving their own skin," Blaise said. "I guess the return of the Dark Lord must not be something that would benefit them."

"Why would he tell us that, though?"

Blaise shrugged.

"Maybe he’s trying to tell you that he's not going to murder you in your sleep on the Dark Lord's orders," Blaise offered.

"He still might for his own reasons," Harry said gloomily. “He does hate me.”

Blaise started laughing. "You're not wrong!"

Harry yawned. “Let’s go to sleep. Draco’s probably gone by now.”

“Alright,” Blaise said. “I can’t believe we just did that!”

“I know!” Harry said. “Tracey’s gonna be so annoyed she went to bed.”

The last few days of term were incredibly hectic. The whole school was buzzing with rumours about what had happened on the third-floor corridor that night, and what it had to do with Professor Quirrel's disappearance. Blaise and Harry, who hadn't really seen much that night, were forced to retell what they'd seen over and over. Draco and Ron seemed to thrive on the attention, and Harry had to admit he didn’t mind all the people talking to him.

Harry was also kept quite busy by his family. James and Lily were spending every possible moment at Ollie's bedside, and for some reason they wanted him there, too. Harry wasn't sure why - they’d spent the year at each other's throats. Also, every time he and Lily were in a room together, her eyes would fill with tears. It made Harry extremely uncomfortable, and he would have bluntly refused to be near them if it wasn't for how clearly unwell his mother was. Her hair was now more grey than red, and her hands were shaking worse than ever. Whenever she got up to go somewhere, James would gently take her arm and help.

At one point, James pulled Harry aside to explain.

“There was an incident earlier this year with a Doxy,” he said. “It’s aggravated your mother’s Cruciatus symptoms, so she’s not doing too well.”

“Will she get better soon?” he asked. Even though Harry didn’t get on with his mum, he still wanted her to be okay.

“Eventually,” James said. “She just needs time.”

Harry knew it was the right thing to do to spend time with them, even though he hated it, so he begrudgingly tolerated Lily’s tears.

Still, all that time in the hospital wing meant Harry didn't have a lot of free time. He slipped off whenever he could, and on the third day of Ollie’s coma, he finally sold his last box of cigarettes. His plan was to give Katie the money he owed at the beginning of summer, then quietly disappear from around Hornford. 

Exhilarated, Harry cheerfully strolled up to the hospital wing to see his parents for a little while before he went to hang out with his friends. The previous day, Gryffindor had been completely destroyed by Ravenclaw in the Quidditch final, and he, Blaise and Tracey had planned to give Neville and Hermione a hard time about it.

To Harry's surprise, however, his parents weren't the only ones in the hospital wing. Professor Dumbledore was also there, speaking with Ollie, who was finally awake.

"Harry!" he said cheerfully. "It's lovely to see you. We were just discussing the events of the other day."

Ollie scowled. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't be rude, Oliver," James scolded. 

"Not to worry," Dumbledore said serenely. "A bit of brotherly animosity never hurt anyone, eh? In fact, my own brother and I have gotten into quite a few fights ourselves…"

"That's another thing, Professor," Ollie said. "When I was talking to Quirrell and Voldemort, they kept switching names. Sometimes they called me Oliver, sometimes they called me Harry. It was really weird."

Something flickered across Dumbledore's face.

"That's a result of the possession, you see," he said wearily. "It will have driven Quirinus mad. By the time you got to him, he’d lost his grip on reality. You and your brother are identical twins, after all, so it's no wonder he got confused."

"Weird," Ollie said, screwing up his nose. Harry agreed.

"Indeed," Dumbledore laughed. "Well I suppose I shall be leaving you with your family, Oliver. May I have an every flavour bean on my way out?"

The last few days of term passed incredibly quickly for Harry. He and his friends were desperately trying to cram in as much time together as possible before they went their separate ways for the summer holidays. They had made many summer plans of course: Tracey and Hermione, who both lived in London, were going to meet up as much as they could, and Harry would join them when he was at Sirius’ house. Blaise was arranging to take an international Portkey to stay with Harry at the end of July, too. Neville, whose family generally didn't allow him to have friends over, also had an open invite to come by whenever he could. All in all, Harry was looking forward to a wonderful summer.

The cherry on top of the cake was Slytherin's landslide victory in the house cup tournament. They'd already been placed solidly in the lead by their victory in the Quidditch cup, but managed to gain an even bigger majority when Dumbledore began awarding a series of last minute points for the events in the third-floor corridor. To Harry's shock and delight, he and Blaise were both awarded twenty points apiece for their assistance that night.

The other houses, of course, weren't impressed by this development - they never liked Slytherin winning. The Gryffindors perked up a bit, however, when Ron Weasley got 50 points for "a well-played game of chess".

Snape, of course, was furious about the whole thing. He had been storming around in a rage for the past week, ever since Ollie's showdown with Voldemort. Apparently, having half of his first-year boys sneak out on his watch wasn't a good look for Snape, as Harry was informed in their final mentoring session before the holidays. It had been one hellish half an hour; since Dumbledore had banned Snape from punishing any of them, it meant Harry was bearing the brunt of Snape's anger. 

“You should have come to me as soon as you found out, Potter!” Snape had shouted. It had seemingly been his main issue, and Harry had to admit that he had a point. He hadn’t even considered going to an adult - he’d gotten too wrapped up in the whole thing to view it objectively.

Still, even Snape's foul mood couldn't bring Harry down. He'd had a wonderful term, and he was ready to have a wonderful summer.

Chapter Text

“For the last time, Oliver, it is a no!”

“But Mum!” Ollie whined.

“Don’t ‘but Mum’ me!” Lily snapped. “I refuse to have that boy in my house!”

“You are being completely unreasonable!” Ollie slammed his fork onto the table. “Harry’s allowed to have his Slytherin friends over for his birthday!”

“Harry’s friends do not have Death Eater parents!” Lily’s face had gone about as red as her hair. “You can have Ron over, that’s fine with me! But I will not let him come here!”

“Draco’s not like his dad!” Ollie said.

“I do not care! His father is Lucius Malfoy. Do you have any idea what that man would do if he got his hands on you?”

“You’ve only spent my whole bloody life going on about it!” Ollie yelled back, while Lily continued to shout over him.

Oh, and what about his aunt ? And what she did to me?”

“Right, lets go,” Harry muttered to Jasmine, abandoning his half-eaten breakfast. Things always blew up when Lily brought Bellatrix Lestrange into the argument.

“Sirius is related to Bellatrix!” Ollie protested. “We can still see him, can’t we?”

“Sirius does not visit her in prison !”

The dining room door slammed shut, though the sounds of their arguing were still very audible. Harry sighed as he and Jasmine made their way out to the Quidditch Pitch. It was the only place they could get peace nowadays, since the arguing had started.

Seemingly for the first time in their lives, Lily and Ollie were completely at odds. It had all started in early July, when Ollie had tried to go over to Draco’s house and hadn’t been allowed. Then, when Ollie tried to have him, Vince and Greg over, Lily had banned that too. Almost every day since, the two of them had gotten into explosive arguments. It was a complete nightmare. Harry, Jasmine and James were both caught in the middle. Harry was spending every possible moment at Sirius’ house to try and avoid the fighting. He would have even stayed there permanently, if it wasn’t for the Quidditch Pitch. Sirius’ garden was too small to fly in without muggles spotting him, and Harry needed to practice. He was going to try out for the team next year, and he needed to be in top form.

 James had extended his hours at the Aurors office to avoid the screaming matches, especially since Lily always tried to drag him into it. That left Jasmine, who didn’t have an escape. Harry took her with him to Sirius’ house whenever he could. She ended up spending a lot of time with Adhara, and Harry occasionally took her with him when he took the train to visit Hermione in Hampstead. As he’d predicted, the two of them instantly clicked over their love of books. 

This, as well as visiting Tracey, had made Harry’s summer one of the best ever. He’d never been able to spend this much time with friends before. The only other person he’d ever been able to see in the holidays was Dan, but Harry unfortunately wasn’t able to see him anymore.

At the start of the holidays, he’d given Katie all the money, made some excuses about going abroad for most of the summer, and had never returned to the park. Harry hoped that, if he just didn’t come back, they’d leave him alone. As much as it hurt Harry to cut off his friend like that, he knew he had to get out of the gang. Besides, all Dan seemed to care about now was Harry selling cigarettes. It wasn’t like Harry would be missing out. At least, he told himself that. The other part of Harry missed his oldest friend more than anything.

Harry was disrupted from his thoughts when they arrived at the Quidditch pitch. They’d barely had enough time to mount their brooms, however, before Ollie stormed out onto the grass.

“You two, do me a favour and bugger off, would you?” Ollie snapped, grabbing his broom from the shed with far more force than was strictly necessary.

“Alright!” Jasmine said. “No need to bite our heads off!”

Ollie didn’t reply. He sent one final glare at them before kicking off the ground and racing over to the hoops.

“The two of them need to stop it,” Harry said, putting his broom away in the shed. Even though he still wanted to fly, he knew it was wise to let Ollie get away with pushing him around at the moment. For once, his brother’s anger was directed at someone else, and Harry didn’t want to bring the attention back on himself if he could help it.

“I do feel a bit bad for him, though,” Jasmine said, watching as Ollie threw a Quaffle through the goal. “I get why Mum wouldn’t want the Malfoys at the house, but it must be terrible to not be allowed to see half your friends.”

“I guess.” Truthfully, Harry was quite glad that Draco wasn’t allowed over. He was a horrible bully, and a summer where Harry didn’t have to see him was a much-needed breath of fresh air after being stuck in the same house as him all year.

“Did you know he thinks Mum’s stopping his mail?” Jasmine said as they started walking back into the house. “I heard him shouting at her about it the other day. None of his friends have written to him, and he thinks she’s behind it.”

“Really?” 

That surprised Harry. He could see Vince and Greg not writing to Ollie - they weren’t incredibly close, and he was half-certain that they were illiterate - but Draco? He and Ollie were practically joined at the hip.

“I still don’t get why Draco can’t just come over without his parents,” Harry grumbled. “That would solve all of this.”

“We can’t commit a social faux pas , can we?” Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Besides, they would never allow him to go on his own. The Malfoys are obsessive about high society rules. If we sent Draco an invite and not his parents, they would be so affronted or something.”

They had reached the library.

“I’m going to start reading up on my silencing charms,” Harry said, pulling out a battered old Charms textbook he had found on one of the shelves. “I know I can’t do magic in the summers, but I am so sick of the shouting that I will literally break the Statute of Secrecy for a bit of peace and quiet.”

Jasmine snorted. “Must be nice. I’m stuck with it.”

He had barely sat down, however, when the library doors flew open. Lily stormed in, face still flushed.

“Harry,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Why is there a muggle at the door?”

Harry felt his heart drop. The gang must have finally caught on. 

“I have no idea!” he stammered. “I told my muggle friends that they can’t come over here.”

“Well, she’s still standing on our doorstep asking for you!” Lily said. “Get her to leave. And do not invite her inside. We can’t have her seeing the portraits.”

She . It must be Katie. A part of Harry was disappointed; he’d hoped it would be Dan.

“Okay.” Harry slid past her, frantically trying to think up excuses, but didn’t have any luck.

He quickly slid out of the door and shut it behind him. As much as Harry wanted a barrier between himself and Katie, his mother’s warnings about the portraits were still fresh in his mind.

Katie was standing off to the side, looking at one of the perfectly manicured hedges with mild interest. Harry was suddenly very grateful for the wards around the Quidditch pitch; how would he explain his brother flying around on a broomstick behind his house?

“Ah, Harry!” she said brightly. “You’re back! Nice holiday?”

“Er, yeah,” he said. 

“Where’d you go again?”

“Spain,” he lied. Harry hadn’t been anywhere; Sirius was taking him and Adhara to the south of France for a week, but that wasn’t until the end of August. 

“Nice.” she snapped her gum. “So, will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

“Oh I can’t,” he said. “It’s my birthday.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry, I didn’t get you anything. Completely slipped my mind!” she laughed. “Are you throwing a party?”

“No,” he said. If Harry told her he was having one, she might expect to be invited, and that would cause a whole lot of other problems. “I’m going to London with my family.”

“Nice. Come up to the park as soon as possible when you can, alright? It’s been a while.”

“Oh, um…” Harry didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think of any more excuses - how had his absence not been enough to put her off?

Katie frowned. “Something wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore!” he blurted. “I don’t want to be involved. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“Why? I thought you wanted the cash!” She rolled her eyes and gestured around to the massive manor. “It’s not exactly like you need it, but…”

“It’s too risky. I almost got caught a bunch of times selling cigarettes last year!” 

That wasn’t entirely true - Harry was quite good at avoiding the professors, and he had to cloak to help him out - but he still didn’t want to risk his place at Hogwarts for some stupid business.

“Come on, Potter!” she snapped, looking uncharacteristically angry. “It’s not just about you ! You’re doing it for me! You’re doing it to help Dan!”

“Look, I just can’t!” he said. “So just leave it, okay?”

Katie’s eyes darkened and she crossed her arms. 

“Do you think this is a choice?” she asked, in an eerily calm voice.

“...yes?” Harry said. He scratched the back of his neck, a feeling of trepidation pooling in his stomach.

“Well it’s not,” she said. “Not all of the people are like me. You’ve met Tom. You’ve met Martin. You really think they’ll be happy with you ditching this?”

“Look, I’ve given you all the money,” he said nervously. “Please just leave it.”

“They’re going to ask questions, Potter,” she said. “What do you think they’re going to do when they find out you think you’re too good for us? We know where you live. They can come here anytime, and they won’t come knocking like I have. You know what they’re like - what do you think will happen?”

Dread pooled in Harry’s stomach. He knew exactly what would happen.

We know where you live. He lived in a house full of magic items - what would happen if they broke in and saw them? How much trouble would they all get in for violating the statute of secrecy?

Worst of all, Harry’s ten-year-old sister lived here. Would they hurt her?

It was then that he knew what he had to do.

“If you really need me I guess I could carry on then,” he said, staring at his shoes.

“Fantastic.” Katie grinned. It was like someone had flipped a switch - her furious demeanour had completely vanished.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen, Harry. You’re going to meet me and Dan - who’s missed you, by the way - in the park on the 1st of August. You’re going to do your usual runs. You will keep doing that for the rest of the summer, and at the end, I will give you more cigarettes to sell at that posh school of yours. Understood?”

“Okay.”

“Brilliant.” She clapped her hands. “See you in two days! We wouldn’t want to repeat this little chat, now, would we?”

“No we wouldn’t,” he said.

“Happy birthday!” Katie spun on her heel and walked off down the driveway. Harry watched her leave, feeling slightly sick.

You can make this work , he told himself as he went back into the house. You’ve managed to go this far without getting caught. You can do magic! The muggle police won’t catch you. You’ve got a cloak of invisibility for God’s sake-

“Harry!”

Harry resisted the urge to groan. It was his mother, sitting in the living room. Now that her initial anger had faded, she just looked tired and worn, as usual.

“So who was that?”

“Just a friend,” he said, hoping she’d leave it. Unfortunately, Harry didn’t have that kind of luck.

“What on earth was she doing at our house?” Lily demanded. “We’ve spoken about this! I thought I told you and Ollie to tell any muggle friends of yours that we can’t have visitors!”

“I did!” Harry protested. “She didn’t listen!”

“You know the Statute of Secrecy is incredibly important,” she continued. “If a muggle came into the house, then that could be broken. If that happens, the very foundations of the Wizarding World…”

Harry began to tune her out. Once Lily got into a lecturing mood, there was no telling when she’d stop. Besides, he had bigger things to worry about.

Why can’t I just have a quiet life? he thought.

Luckily for Harry, the next day was looking to be a lot better. 

“Harry!” Hermione said, running up to give him a hug. She and Tracey had flooed over with Sirius and Adhara for the birthday party.

“Happy birthday,” Tracey said, lingering back a bit. She’d always hated hugs.

“Hi guys!” he said. “Hi Sirius, hi Adhara.”

“Happy birthday, godson of mine!” Sirius said, ruffling Harry’s hair.

“We’ve got you loads of presents!” Adhara chirped.

“Great!” he laughed. “Hermione, Tracey, Neville’s already here.”

“Great to see you guys,” Neville said.

“Happy late birthday, by the way,” Tracey said. “Did you get my present?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Neville said. “I’ve already tried them out! My Gran’s Venomous Tentacula is surprisingly scared of the trowel…”

Harry was distracted from the conversation as Blaise stepped out of the fireplace, closely followed by his mother. She was a tall, slender woman and was dressed in fine black robes.

Harry went over to greet them.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Ms Zabini,” he said, not entirely sure of her title. 

Her husband Giuseppe had died a few days into the summer term. Blaise hadn’t written a lot about it, but Harry could tell he was upset. From what he’d heard, they’d been close.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” she said. Her voice had a slight Italian lilt. “Blaise has told me so much about you. You simply must visit us at our villa sometime!”

“I’d be delighted,” he said shyly.

“Nice to see you, Harry,” Blaise said. He was smiling, but Harry had known him long enough to tell that he was just putting on a brave face.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Ms Zabini said, sweeping away.

“Blaise!” Hermione said, throwing her arms around him. “It’s so nice to see you!”

“You too, Hermione,” he said. “And all of you! Tell me how you’ve been!”

The subsequent catch-up took their group until well into Harry’s birthday meal to finish. By the time it was over, everyone was ready for dessert. 

“How about we play a game of Quidditch after this?” Harry suggested. Blaise groaned.

“Harry no! You’ll kill Neville!” he said.

“Oi!” Neville said, indignant.

“We’re only joking mate,” Blaise laughed, giving him a playful shove.

“It’s probably true,” Neville said sheepishly.

“I don’t know how I’m friends with any of you,” Harry rolled his eyes. “An absolute bunch of Quidditch haters.”

“You’ve got me!” Tracey said. “I’m certainly not making the team any time soon, but-”

A great crash echoed through the dining room. Everyone jumped, glancing around for the source of the noise. It seemed to have come from the kitchen. Lily and James dashed out. Moments later, Harry heard shouting.

“And they’re back,” he muttered to himself. 

Further up the table, Jasmine had paled. She stared at Harry, craning her head towards the kitchen. 

Follow me , she mouthed. Harry got up and went after her. No one else came - they were all politely ignoring the yelling.

Inside the kitchen was chaos. There was cake smashed all over the floor and all over Ollie’s shirt. Ollie and Lily were both screaming at each other, and James was standing in the corner, looking helpless. His eyes widened.

“Oops,” James quickly cast a silencing charm at the door.

“This is a new low for you, Oliver!” Lily shouted. “I mean really ! Did you have to be so petty and spiteful?”

“I’m telling you it wasn’t me!” he said. “This house-elf just came in and smashed Harry’s cake!”

Harry felt his breath hitch a little. Of course his things were being ruined by Ollie, as usual. Harry had only just managed to find his cloak - Ollie had buried it in his trunk after he’d stolen it to go fight Voldemort and it had taken weeks of sneaking into his room to get it back.

Lily scoffed. “As if I’m going to believe that! You have a history of lying and attacking him, and I am not tolerating it any longer!”

“I’m telling you it’s true!” Ollie said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Oliver, if you had an ounce of respect for me you would stop lying!" Lily said. "I don't care if you're upset about Draco, this was too far. Now listen here. You are going to go to your room while I try to deal with the fallout of your misbehaviour. I will be punishing you properly later.”

“Dad!” Ollie whined.

“Listen to your mother,” James said sternly. “This behaviour is unacceptable.”

Ollie sent him a murderous look.

“James!" Lily said. He jumped, staring wide-eyed at Lily.

"Please go distract our guests," she ordered. James practically sprinted from the kitchen.

"Harry, darling, I'm so sorry about your brother's behaviour." She glared at Ollie. "You'll still have a cake, don't worry. Now go out and try to enjoy your party."

"Okay," he slipped out of the kitchen, Jasmine close behind.

"You alright?" She whispered. Harry shrugged.

"I'm just used to it by now."

"What happened?" Hermione asked when he sat back down.

"Ollie smashed a cake and blamed it on a house elf.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Of course he did.”

“So, revenge,” Tracey said. “I found a spell that covers his nose in green scabs that we can try out when we get back to Hogwarts, if you’d like?”

Harry smiled. “I wouldn’t oppose that.”

Hermione groaned.

Over the course of the next few days, Ollie staunchly maintained that a house-elf had been the one responsible for the cake incident. It got to the point where even Harry was starting to believe him - why would Ollie stick to such an outlandish tale unless it was somehow true?

Lily, on the other hand, was on the warpath. She'd taken away all of Ollie's birthday gifts and was making him stay in his room all day with nothing to do until he saw fit to confess. 

At least they couldn't argue when Ollie was stuck in there.

Still, Harry wasn't around enough anymore to appreciate the newfound silence. He was spending a lot of time with Sirius of course, and the time he was at the Potters tended to be spent with the gang.

It just wasn't the same, Harry reflected, now that he'd seen the other side of Katie. She was trying to be as laid-back and bubbly as ever, but it felt fake and wrong. Harry knew now that she was happily willing to turn on him at a moment's notice. 

Dan wasn’t quite the same, either. Something in him seemed to have hardened in the last year, and Harry didn’t like it. Gone was the ten-year-old boy who he’d race up a tree in the playground. Instead, Dan had become an angry boy, who chain smoked in between runs and swore every other word. Harry barely recognised him.

As the end of August drew nearer, to Harry’s relief, it was finally time for his holiday with Sirius and Adhara. He was quite excited; they were to be travelling by Portkey, which he’d never experienced before.

Before that happened, however, Katie gave him something. 

“Here.” She shoved a shoebox into Harry’s hands. “Cigarettes. I expect these to all be sold by Christmas.”

Or there will be trouble , her tone implied.

“Okay,” Harry said. He was just relieved that spending the summer with her was over.

“Have a good holiday!”

Early the next morning, Sirius woke him and Adhara up and they all gathered their bags and Flooed into the Ministry of Magic.

Harry stared around the atrium in wonder. It was even larger than the Hogwarts Entrance Hall, something which he hadn’t thought was possible.

They took an elevator down to the Department of Magical Transport, where Sirius led them into a sparsely decorated side room, which contained only a table and a chair. On the table, there was a dented tin can. A blonde woman was sitting nearby, scribbling onto a notepad.

“Names?” she asked in a bored tone.

“Sirius Black, Adhara Black and Harry Potter,” Sirius said promptly.

The woman looked up and frowned. “Do you have legal guardianship over Harry Potter?”

“I have split custody with Lily and James Potter,” he said. “I have a letter of consent for him to travel with me.” 

Sirius rummaged around inside his robes and pulled out a folded-up letter, which he handed to the woman. She scanned it, still frowning.

“This all appears to be in order,” she said, handing the letter back to Sirius. “Your Portkey will leave at seven-thirty. You have five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Sirius said, taking them to the other side of the room where a couple of other people were already waiting. 

“Sirius, how does that Portkey work again?” Harry asked, nervously staring at the tin can.

“You touch the tin can, then it takes you to a designated location,” Sirius explained. “In our case, that’s the French Ministry. It sort of feels like apparating, but it’s a bit less painful.”

Sirius glanced at his watch.

“Speaking of, it’s going to leave any minute. You two, touch a finger to the can.”

Harry and Adhara both stepped forward and placed their index fingers on the tin can, as did Sirius and the other couple. A minute later, the can glowed blue and Harry felt a curious jerk behind his navel. He felt like he was being dragged along, a rather uncomfortable sensation, until finally he landed in a different room with a hard thud. He clutched his stomach, feeling a bit nauseous.

“Bienvenue,” a woman’s voice said. Harry looked around and realised he was in a similar room.

“Quels sont vos noms?” the woman asked. She had dark black hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Sirius Black, Adhara Black, Harry Potter,” Sirius said. The woman then started speaking in rapid French which Harry couldn’t catch. To his surprise, Sirius spoke back fluently. He handed over the same square of parchment to the woman, as well as some other documents, before they were let go.

“Bloody Ministry bureaucracy,” Sirius muttered as they left the room.

“I didn’t know you could speak French!” Harry said.

Sirius laughed. “It’s a Black family tradition to speak French. I was taught as a young child.”

“Adhara, can you speak it too, then?”

She shook her head. “Dad refused to teach me.”

“I refuse to carry on any family traditions,” Sirius said. “I’ve always told Adhara that she can learn any language she wants, as long as it’s not French. I’d even learn to speak it with you. It could be fun.”

“What if we wanted to learn, say, Mermish?” Harry asked. “Would you still learn it?”

“Well, it’s not French, is it?” Sirius said. “I would befriend a mermaid and we’d learn the language.”

They walked out of the French Ministry and into the blazing sunlight. Unlike the British Ministry, which was underground, the French Ministry was a tall, marble building with large, reflective windows so that muggles couldn’t see inside.

“We just need to go round the corner and to this side street, then we can apparate away,” Sirius said.

Harry resisted the urge to groan. Every minute that passed since the Portkey, he had felt sicker and sicker, and he didn’t think apparating would help. He sighed as Sirius held out his arm, and squeezed his eyes shut as the familiar sensation of apparating overcame him.

Harry hit the ground hard, and clapped a hand over his mouth. He felt even sicker.

“Harry? Are you alright?” Sirius asked, bending down next to him.

“I don’t think the Portkey agreed with me,” he croaked. Sirius winced sympathetically.

“International Portkeys can have that effect,” Sirius said. “It’s called Portkey sickness. Come on, let's get you inside. A little rest and a potion and you’ll be right as rain by tomorrow.”

Sirius grabbed Harry’s arm and slung it around his shoulders, helping him walk. Adhara took Harry’s bag as they struggled inside.

The beach house Sirius owned was small and painted white, with large windows overlooking the glittering blue sea. Even though he felt awful, Harry still took a moment to appreciate how beautiful it all was.

Sirius took him inside and laid him on one of the beds. 

“I’ll go grab an anti-nausea potion out of my trunk,” he said, taking off Harry’s shoes and placing them on the ground. “You just stay in here and try to rest, alright?”

“Okay,” Harry mumbled. He held his stomach as Sirius left the room, then came back with two vials. Harry drank them up, screwing up his nose at the taste.

“One of these is an anti-nausea potion, the other is a sleeping draught,” Sirius said. “We’ll get to the holiday fun tomorrow, alright?”

“Okay,” Harry smiled at Sirius. Even though he felt awful, he was still happy to be here. After all, he’d never had a real holiday before.

He fell asleep to thoughts of exploring the French Riviera and playing on the beach with his family, a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

The week in France was one of the best weeks of Harry’s life. After he’d gotten over the original Portkey sickness, he, Sirius and Adhara had spent almost every day at the beach. At first, Harry had stayed in the sand. He was reluctant to go into the ocean; the memory of Ollie pushing him into the pool when he was ten still haunted Harry. Still, by the end of the week, Sirius had coaxed Harry into the water. He never went further than knee-deep, but Harry still enjoyed it. Sirius promised Harry that the next summer, he’d get him swimming lessons. Harry was a bit nervous about it, but he knew it would be better in the long run. Maybe he’d be less scared of water if he knew he could swim.

After a week was over, it was finally time for Harry to go back to Hogwarts. He spent the day they returned recovering from Portkey sickness. It wasn’t as bad coming back from France, but Harry still didn’t want to travel by Portkey ever again. 

The day after he got back, the 31st of August, Harry went over to Potter Manor for a goodbye dinner with his parents and Jasmine. Ollie wasn’t there; he was spending the last part of the summer with the Weasleys. No one said it, but Harry knew it was because of the fighting. Ollie had never ended up confessing to destroying Harry’s birthday cake, and Lily was still clearly furious about it.

Since the Weasleys had also arranged to drop Ollie off at Kings Cross, and Sirius would be dropping off Harry, the Potters had decided to say goodbye to Harry the day before he left. Jasmine, of course, wasn’t happy about him leaving.

“I want to come to Hogwarts this year, too!” she complained. “I’m eleven in October, it’s not fair!”

“Don’t worry Jasmine!” Harry said with a laugh. “It won’t be too much longer until you can be there with us!” 

The next morning, Harry finished up some last-minute packing before Sirius apparated him to an alleyway near Kings Cross. As they made their way inside, he noticed lots of wizards wearing mismatched, odd muggle clothing and smiled to himself. It may have been horrible for him growing up with the Dursleys, but at least he could blend into the muggle world if he needed to.

After a quick glance around for any nosy muggles, Sirius and Harry ran at the barrier. The platform, as usual, was bustling with people. 

Sirius gave him a quick hug.

“I hope you have a great year,” he said. “Good luck with the Quidditch team!”

“Thanks!” Harry said. “I’ll write to you if I get on.”

“Not if! When.” Sirius smiled. “You’re one of the best fliers I’ve ever seen. Your place is practically guaranteed.”

Harry blushed.

“See you at Christmas, then!” he said, pushing his trolley towards the train. Harry combed through the compartments until he found Hermione, who was sitting reading a book.

“Harry!” she said brightly. “How was France?”

“Great!” he said. “We stayed at the beach, it was really lovely. Also, it turns out Sirius is secretly fluent in French! That was weird to find out.”

Hermione leaned forward. “Really? That’s amazing! I’ve always wanted to learn a second language. I wish Hogwarts had offered a languages course. I suppose Ancient Runes counts, but it’s not really a transferable skill since it’s not spoken. I’m going to take it either way next year, I think.”

“Planning your entire future again, Hermione?” Tracey said, leaning against the doorway.

“Tracey! Hi!” Hermione beamed.

“Didn’t I just see you two days ago?” Tracey said, rolling her eyes. Harry noticed she was still smiling, though.

“Yes, but this is different!” Hermione said impatiently. “We’re going back to Hogwarts, it’s exciting! How did you find all your summer homework?”

Tracey looked sheepish. “Well, it’s not exactly…finished yet.”

“Tracey!” Hermione said, scandalised. Harry just laughed. 

Eventually, Blaise and Neville also joined them in the compartment and the train set off. They were just getting started on a game of Exploding Snap when the door opened. It was Draco, with Vince and Greg looming behind him. Ollie was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, well, well,” Draco smirked. “Look what we have here.”

“What do you want, Draco?” Blaise glared at him.

“Don’t be so rude, Zabini!” Draco said, putting a hand to his heart mockingly. “I’m simply inquiring where Ollie happens to be. I haven’t found him anywhere yet, I thought you lot might know where he’s gotten off to.”

“I didn’t come to the station with him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Harry said. “The Weasleys dropped him off.”

“Oh.” Draco scowled. “Well, I suppose he’s traipsing about somewhere with those dim-witted blood traitors. It’s no wonder he’s been so silent all summer if he’s been spending his whole summer with Ronald. He’s obviously forgotten who his real friends are.”

“Draco, we really don’t care!” Tracey said. “We’re busy. Go away.”

“Pleasant as always, aren’t you Tracey?” Draco said. He sniffed before leaving the compartment, slamming the door behind him.

“Like he can talk,” Tracey muttered.

“What did he mean about Ollie being silent all summer?” Neville asked. “Did something happen between them? I noticed he wasn’t at your birthday, Harry.”

“Mum didn’t let Ollie see him,” Harry said. “You know all those fights I told you about? They were because Mum banned him from inviting Draco over or going to his house. Jasmine thought she might have even stopped Ollie’s mail.”

“Wow,” Neville said. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was,” Harry said darkly.

“And why couldn’t he find Ollie on the train?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, frowning. “Maybe he’s hiding somewhere.”

“You don’t think he missed the train, do you?” Hermione asked, eyes widening.

“He might have,” Blaise said.

“Should we look and check?” Hermione asked. “If he’s missing, we ought to let the conductor know.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t really care enough about him. If he missed the train, that’s his problem.”

“Good point,” Tracey said. “Besides, don’t we have a game of Exploding Snap to get to?”

Still, as the train made its way through the countryside, Harry couldn’t help the niggling feeling of worry. What if something bad had happened to Ollie? He tried to push it away - Ollie was horrible to him all the time, so why should Harry care what had happened to him? As they all got off the train, though, Harry still found himself scanning the crowd of students for his brother.

This year, instead of going into Hogwarts by boat, they were taken to a set of horseless carriages. Harry and his friends all got into one, and it began to move forward by itself.

For some reason, Neville was staring at the front of the carriage nervously.

“What’s wrong, Neville?” Harry asked.

“Those horse things,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t like the look of them.”

Harry frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The horses,” Neville said, gesturing to the invisible space at the front of the carriage.

“We can’t see anything, Neville,” Hermione said, giving Neville a worried look.

“But they’re right there!” he insisted. “They’re like big, black horses with leathery wings.”

“Like a pegasus?” Blaise asked.

“No!” Neville said, sounding agitated. “Are you guys having me on?”

“No, we aren’t,” Harry said. “We really can’t see anything.”

Hermione nervously reached her hand out over the side of the carriage, before flinching back.

“I touched something!” she shouted, eyes wide.

“See?” Neville said, looking relieved. “I told you!”

“I wonder why you can see them and we can’t,” Tracey said.

“We’ll have to research it!” Hermione said, the familiar glazed look passing over her face. Everyone groaned. 

As they all filtered into the Great Hall to await the Sorting, Harry realised Draco was still sitting without Ollie. He looked very irritated, and was shouting at Vince about something.

“Still no sign of Ollie,” Harry muttered. 

“Hey, Ron isn’t here either,” Tracey said. “Look at the Gryffindor table.”

Harry craned his neck to check. She was right - he saw an exasperated-looking Percy, as well as Fred and George, but no Ron.

“They’re definitely up to something,” Blaise said. Before they could say any more, however, McGonagall entered the Great Hall, a line of nervous first-years trailing behind her.

Once again, the Sorting Hat sang its song and the first-years began to be sorted. Harry couldn’t believe it had been a whole year since he’d been sorted. It still felt like it had happened yesterday.

After ‘Creevey, Colin’ had been sorted into Gryffindor, Harry heard a faint crash come from the grounds. Scattered whispers broke out, which were quickly silenced by a pointed cough from Dumbledore. Professor Snape slipped through a door behind the staff table.

Harry had a sinking feeling that noise involved Ollie.

He didn’t pay much attention for the rest of the sorting, only tuning in at the end as Ginny Weasley sat on the stool. Unsurprisingly, she got into Gryffindor. Harry smiled and made a mental note to let Jasmine know.

Soon after, Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands and the tables were suddenly full of food. Harry eagerly tucked in. The long sorting ceremony had left him famished.

“So we’re all agreed your brother was behind that crash?” Tracey said. Harry groaned.

“Definitely.”

“Tracey, bet you two sickles that Ollie somehow hurts his head,” Blaise said, piling his plate with mashed potatoes.

“Deal.” Tracey said.

“Are you two betting on my brother being injured?” Harry said with mock horror.

“Oh, come off it,” Blaise said. “You cause most of his injuries, anyway.”

“Oi!” Harry said, shoving Blaise. “I’m turning over a new leaf! I’m going to be a pacifist this year, watch.”

Tracey rolled her eyes. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Tracey, I bet you two more sickles that Harry gets into a fight with Ollie within a week.” Blaise said. Harry groaned and put his face in his hands.

Ollie did not materialise throughout the rest of the meal. Neither did Snape. Eventually, Dumbledore got to his feet once more and began his start of term announcements. Harry tuned out the usual start of term warnings about the Forbidden Forest and Filch’s list of banned items, which had somehow grown.

“And finally, I would like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart!”

The entire hall burst into raucous cheers as a blond-haired man got to his feet, his grin revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. He winked, and a third-year Hufflepuff actually screamed.

Tracey rolled her eyes. “ He’s our Professor? Come on!”

“He’s fit,” Blaise commented as Lockhart sat back down.

“Blaise, not you too!” Tracey said. “He’s just a pretty face, that’s it.”

“Is he the author of those fifty thousand books I had to stuff into my trunk last night?” Harry said, wrinkling his nose. His mother had gone to Diagon Alley while he was in France to get Harry’s school supplies. When she dumped a massive stack of books in front of him, Harry had thought she was playing a prank. He had not been impressed to find out she was serious.

“Yep,” Tracey said. Harry’s opinion of Lockhart worsened immediately.

Finally, Dumbledore dismissed them and they all made their way back to the Slytherin Common Room. Ollie wasn’t in there, either. Most of the other second-years had gathered around the fireplace and were catching up, so Harry and his friends joined them while they waited for Snape to do his start of term speech.

“Look at the first-years!” Tracey said, pointing at the younger students, who were gathered in a corner and looking about nervously. “I can’t believe that was us once.”

“Neither can I,” said Harry. “It’s weird to think about, isn’t it?”

Just then, the door of the common room opened and Ollie slunk in. He looked furious.

“Here we go,” Blaise muttered. Ollie threw himself into an armchair and glared at the stone floor.

“Ollie!” Draco said. “Where on earth have you been? You didn’t write to me all summer!”

“Snape just tried to expel me!” Ollie said indignantly. All of the other second-years immediately started listening in.

“For what ?” Draco asked, previous annoyance gone. “What could you have possibly done this early in the year?”

Harry never got to hear Ollie’s answer, however, as Snape himself stormed into the common room. Everyone immediately fell silent. He was clearly furious - his eyes were flashing, and his face was cherry-red.

As Snape began his start of term speech, Harry was acutely aware that he was staring daggers at Ollie, who was still refusing to look up. It just made him even more eager to find out what had gone on between the two of them.

There was only one variation to Snape’s monologue. A new rule had been set up, threatening harsh punishment if any Slytherins were caught outside of the common room after nine o’clock, even the older years. A couple of seventh-years started to grumble at that, but one sharp look from Snape quelled them. Harry noticed that Snape had been specifically glaring at the second-years during that part of the announcement, and knew it had to be because of what had happened last year.

Finally, Snape finished speaking and left the common room. Draco immediately started quizzing Ollie.

“Why did he try to expel you?” he asked. Harry listened in eagerly, as did the rest of the second-years.

“The barrier at platform nine and three-quarters sealed itself to me and Ron,” Ollie said. “We couldn’t get through, and we ended up missing the train. Ron’s dad has a flying car, so we flew it to Hogwarts.”

“You didn’t!” Pansy said, looking impressed.

“How did you manage that?” Daphne asked.

“Well, me and Ron figured it out quickly enough,” Ollie said. Harry thought he detected a hint of pride in his brother’s tone. “But there were some issues, obviously. We got seen by a couple of muggles and the car ran out of fuel and crashed into the Whomping Willow. Snape wanted to kick me out for it, but Dumbledore stopped him. I’ve got a lot of detention, though, and they’re writing home.”

Mum is going to kill him, Harry thought. He couldn’t deny the small bit of glee he felt at that.

“You act like such a Gryffindor sometimes,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. Harry agreed with him, but the rest of the second-years didn’t seem to share that sentiment. The girls, in particular, were looking at Ollie like he was some sort of hero.

“True, but no harm done,” Ollie said, shrugging his shoulders. “Draco, can we have a word? In private?” 

He sent a pointed look towards Harry in particular.

“Alright,” Draco said, brushing off his robes. “Goodnight, all.”

The two of them made their way up to the boys' dorms.

“I’m glad he’s okay!” Pansy said, gazing after the two boys.

“He is okay, isn’t he?” Tracey said with a sly smile. “Blaise, you owe me two sickles.”

Blaise groaned.

“So what do you think they’re talking about?” Harry said in a low voice. 

“No clue,” Blaise said. “They sneak around all the time, just ignore them.”

Tracey yawned. “Well, I think I’m gonna head up. I’m shattered.”

“Same,” Blaise said.

“I’ll go with you,” Harry said. “Night, Tracey!”

As they entered the dorm, Harry saw that the hangings around Draco’s bed were shut. He couldn’t hear a word of what was going on inside; he assumed they’d placed a silencing charm.

Harry dug through his trunk and took out his two-way notebook. Jasmine was sure to be interested in what had gone down.

You’ll never believe what just happened…

Chapter Text

The next morning started out with a bang.

Harry was eating breakfast when commotion broke out further down the Slytherin table. He looked over to see what was going on.

It was Ollie. He was staring in horror at a red envelope, which was beginning to smoke.

“Your brother’s got a Howler!” Blaise hissed in Harry’s ear.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Oh you’ll see,” Blaise said, grinning.

“Just open it, Ollie,” Vince said. “It’s worse if you don’t.”

“Alright,” Ollie said, gingerly prising open the envelope.

“OLIVER EVAN POTTER!”

For a moment, Harry felt like his eardrums had exploded. The sound of his mother’s screeching voice was coming from the letter, reverberating throughout the entire Great Hall.

“-THOUGHT I RAISED YOU TO BEHAVE BETTER THAN THIS - HOW COULD YOU BE SO RECKLESS- ”

Another voice joined his mother’s shouting from across the hall. It sounded like Molly Weasley. 

“-LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME-”

Harry craned his neck to get a better look at the Gryffindor table. Ron’s face had gone the same shade of red as his hair. Harry couldn’t even see Ollie’s face - he’d buried it in his hands.

Even though the letters had gone off at once, somehow both angry women were still perfectly audible. Harry pressed his hands to his ears to try and muffle the sound, but didn’t have much luck.

“DO OUR SACRIFICES MEAN NOTHING TO YOU-”

“YOUR FATHER IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT-”

“I’M OF HALF A MIND TO PULL YOU OUT OF HOGWARTS ALTOGETHER-”

“IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.”

Finally, the shouting ended and a ringing silence filled the Hall. Harry saw Ollie’s envelope burst into flame, forming a small pile of ashes on the table. Quickly enough, a couple of people laughed and chatter broke out in the Hall again.

“Wow,” Harry said faintly. He knew that tensions had been high between Ollie and his mum, but he hadn’t expected it to be that bad.

“Indeed,” Blaise said, clapping Harry on the back.

The morning lessons were gruelling. Their first lesson was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, who didn’t seem to care that it had been months since their last lesson. Even Harry, who was normally quite good at Transfiguration, left feeling like his head was going to explode. That being followed by a tedious History of Magic lesson meant that Harry was ready to collapse into bed before the day was even halfway over.

They decided to spend the rest of their lunch break in the cloudy courtyard outside of the Great Hall with Hermione and Neville before afternoon lessons began.

“Do you think there’s a spell I can use to throw rocks into windows?” Tracey asked. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground, levitating pebbles and dropping them back to the floor.

“Oh, that’s the Banishing Charm,” Hermione said promptly. “You don’t learn that until fourth year, though.”

“But if I learnt it early, it would give me an advantage,” Tracey said. “No one would suspect a second-year, and I could throw things at Pansy whenever I wanted.”

“Well, I suppose you could,” Hermione said. “It would be awfully difficult to learn, though, and you’d need to master the Summoning Charm first-”

“Hey, guys,” Blaise interrupted. “What’s going on with that lot?”

He pointed towards the other end of the courtyard, where Draco, Ollie, Vince and Greg were all standing. A small, mousey-looking Gryffindor was chatting eagerly to them. Harry and his friends all stopped talking so they could listen in. 

“I’d love a picture, so that way I can prove I’ve met you!” he said. Harry noticed he was clutching a camera. “Everyone’s told me all about you. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you’ve still got a scar on your chest from it.”

He stared at Ollie’s torso, as if the scar was going to pop out of his shirt somehow.

“It’s amazing here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either.”

At that, Draco scoffed.

“What are you bothering us for? Ollie wouldn’t want to give a photo to an annoying little mudblood like you .”

Harry felt rage boil up inside him. He’d heard that word enough in the Slytherin common room, but he’d never actually heard someone call a person it. He was across the courtyard in an instant, and jabbed his wand into Draco’s throat.

“You take that back, Malfoy, or I’ll curse your vocal chords out,” he growled. 

“And I’ll help him,” Tracey said, standing next to Harry. “Except it’ll be your tongue. And believe me, I know some nasty spells.”

Draco whimpered. Next to him, Vince and Greg cracked their knuckles and drew themselves up to their full height.

“You leave him alone, or-”

“Or what?” Blaise asked silkily. He had followed Harry and Tracey. “You couldn’t tell the front of your wand from the back, Greg, so forgive me if we aren’t exactly worried .”

“What’s going on here?” A voice asked. “Something about photos?”

It was Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry saw Ollie, who had been frozen in place for the last minute, blanch.

“Ah, Oliver, of course!” Lockhart said, putting an arm around Ollie’s shoulder. “No need for all you boys to fight over him, he’ll get to you eventually! Come on Creevey, you can have a double portrait. Much more valuable that way!”

Colin, who Neville and Hermione had been comforting, seemed to get some of his spark back and took the photo. Moments later, the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.

“Thanks,” Colin said. Harry noticed he was still lacking a lot of his previous enthusiasm and felt another surge of anger.

Lockhart had pulled Ollie aside to a secluded corner and was talking to him enthusiastically. Ollie looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

Harry looked around for Draco, Vince and Greg, but found they were already gone. 

“This year isn’t off to a great start,” Blaise said.

“No,” Harry said grimly. “Let’s get to Herbology. Hermione, Neville, see you at the hideout after lessons?”

“See you then,” Neville said. 

As Harry and his friends made his way down to the greenhouses, with Harry still trying to calm himself from the confrontation, he noticed Ollie walking a bit ahead of them.

“I’m going to have a word with him,” Harry growled.

“Harry, don’t,” Blaise said quickly. “It’s not worth it.”

It was too late. Harry had already sped up his pace until he was walking next to Ollie. 

“What is wrong with you?” Harry spat. “Draco called that Creevey boy that word , and you just stood there!”

“I didn’t ask him to!” Ollie shouted back.

“I can’t believe you,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I know you’re a prat, but I didn’t know you were a bigot, too. You’re a half-blood yourself!”

“Just leave me alone!” Ollie sped up, storming off to Greenhouse Three. Harry fell back into step with his friends. 

“See, I can yell at him without throwing him into something,” Harry snapped. That wasn’t entirely true; he still wanted to throw Ollie through the wall of a greenhouse, and was fighting to hold himself back.

“I never said you couldn’t, mate,” Blaise said, holding up his hands.

“Don’t you have two sickles riding on me fighting him, though?” Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

“All in good fun,” Blaise said. “I do it to give Tracey a chance to win. She’s terrible at betting otherwise.”

“Oi!” Tracey shoved Blaise, nearly knocking him over.

After a long afternoon of potting Mandrakes, an exhausted Harry, Tracey and Blaise made their way up to the hideout to do homework with Neville and Hermione. Even though it was only the first day, they already had two essays to do.

“You’ll never guess what just happened in Defence Against the Dark Arts!” Neville said.

“Oh yeah, how was Lockhart?” Blaise asked.

“He set a bunch of Cornish Pixies loose on the class!” Neville said indignantly. “They stuck me on the chandelier! He didn’t even bother to get rid of them, he left Hermione and Ron to do it!”

“Oh, he just wanted to give us some hands-on experience!” Hermione protested.

“Hands on? They almost killed me!”

“You’ve got to admit, that’s not a good look for him, Hermione,” Tracey said.

“Well, I think he’s brilliant,” Hermione said haughtily. “Look at his books! He’s done a lot of great things!”

“You two are just biased,” Blaise said. “He’s a highly talented man!” 

Harry and Tracey exchanged a knowing look. Their friend group had been split in two - Blaise and Hermione, the Lockhart supporters, and the rest of them. 

Harry tuned out the continuing argument. He wanted to get through his Transfiguration Essay so that he could get down to the Quidditch Pitch and have a quick fly before dinner. Tryouts were going to take place soon, and he wanted to be as ready as he could.

Forty-five minutes later, Harry excused himself and went down to the Slytherin common room to fetch his broom from the dormitory. When he reached the door, however, he stopped short. Someone was arguing inside.

“You can’t say those kinds of things, Draco,” Ollie said.

“Well, he was annoying you!” Draco said. “I was just trying to get him to leave you alone, that’s all. It just slipped out.”

“Well, can you not let it slip out in the future?” Ollie asked. “In case you’ve forgotten, my mum’s a muggleborn!”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Draco muttered. “Now can we just move on?”

“Fine. Now I’m going for a shower, I’ll see you at dinner.” 

Harry heard the bathroom door slam shut. He waited a good two minutes before slipping inside and grabbing his broom. Draco was in bed with the curtains drawn, so Harry managed to get in and out without having to talk to either of them.

As he made his way down to the Quidditch Pitch, Harry reflected on what he’d just heard. It was quite unlike Ollie to stand up to Draco like that; at least, Harry had never heard it happen. Maybe Ollie wasn’t as far gone as he’d thought.

Harry was sitting at breakfast when a note was dropped in front of him by a school owl. Curious, he unrolled it.

Your mentoring will take place at the usual time tomorrow.

Professor Snape

Harry resisted the urge to groan. He’d forgotten about that; he had wanted to use that time to practice flying. 

“What’s that?” Blaise asked.

“Mentoring time,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I was going to fly then!”

“You’re so obsessed with Quidditch,” Blaise said, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand it.”

“When are tryouts?” Tracey asked.

“Sunday,” Harry said. Flint had put the notice up in the common room the night before. 

She gave him a sympathetic look. “It’ll all be okay.”

Harry hoped so.

“Afternoon!” Neville said as he and Hermione entered their hideout. Harry, Tracey and Blaise were already there.

“Sorry we took so long,” Hermione said, unpacking her books onto one of the desks. “There’s been a lot of drama in the common room.”

“Really?” Tracey turned her attention away from the cushion she’d been trying to summon. “What’s happening?”

“Ron’s cut ties with Ollie,” Neville said.

“No way!” Harry was stunned. For as long as he’d known Ollie, he and Ron had been thick as thieves.

“It’s because of what Malfoy called Colin,” Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. “Apparently, Ron told Ollie that he had to pick between him and Malfoy. Guess he picked Malfoy.”

“I really wouldn’t have thought he’d do that,” Harry said. From what he’d overheard the other day, things between Draco and Ollie were tense.

“I would,” Blaise said. “Draco’s more useful to him than Weasley is, since they’re in the same house and all. It was only so long until he cut Weasley loose.”

“I didn’t think so,” Neville said. “Harry, your mum’s a muggleborn, isn’t she?”

Harry nodded. 

“So why would he stay friends with someone like Malfoy?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Harry said. “But he’s not all that happy with Draco, either. I overheard them talking about what happened in the courtyard, and he was telling Draco not to say that word again.”

“That’s not good enough, is it?” Tracey said. “He’s the champion of muggles and muggleborns or whatever. Shouldn’t he do better?”

Harry shrugged. “Who knows with him? I never expect too much.”

Hermione sighed. “Either way, Ron spent the last half an hour ranting about him to anyone who would listen, and I need to start my charms homework. Speaking of, how’s that Summoning Charm going, Tracey?”

Tracey sighed. “It’s taking forever. I see why it’s a fourth year spell now…”

The next day, at the usual time Harry had his meetings with Snape, he showed up at the office. He reached up to knock on the door.

“Enter,” Snape’s low voice called before Harry’s fist had even touched the wood. As he opened the door, Harry wondered how the man somehow always managed to know he was there.

“How was your summer?” Snape asked.

“It was nice. Sirius took me and Adhara to France,” Harry said. He’d also been threatened by a gang, but Harry thought it probably wasn’t wise to mention that part.

“You seem to have had an eventful first few days back,” Snape said, raising an eyebrow. “I heard you and Mr Malfoy got into a fight.”

Harry felt his cheeks heat up. Of course Snape would have heard about that.

“Sorry, sir,” Harry said. “But I had to! He called this first year a mu - a you-know-what.”

“Believe it or not, Potter, I am not on Mr Malfoy’s side.” Snape rolled his eyes. “I’m not a fan of my students bullying first-years.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” Snape sighed. “Next time, however, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t attempt to fight Mr Malfoy in public. I do have a rule about Slytherin unity, you know, which you seem to have forgotten.”

“I can’t just let him get away with saying that, sir,” Harry said, crossing his arms.

“ In public , Potter,” Snape said. “Instead of acting on a whim, you’ll find thinking about your revenge makes it far more effective.”

Harry finally understood what Snape was saying. “Are you saying that I can duel him in private, sir?”

“Yes Potter!” Snape sighed loudly. “Subtlety isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it?”

“Sorry, sir,” Harry stared at the ground sheepishly.

“Fantastic.” Snape steepled his fingers. “Now, onto other topics. You’re trying out for the upcoming Quidditch trials?”

That Sunday, Harry stood on the Quidditch Pitch, trying to soothe his nerves. There were at least eight other Slytherins trying out for the Seeker position - Higgs had held the position since his third year, and there were lots of other eager students who were hoping to get onto the team now that he was gone. There were also quite a few vying for other positions. Even though it was well-known that Quidditch Captains generally tended to stick with the same team members, people still hoped to win Flint over with sheer talent and gain a spot. Ollie was one of them - he was trying out for Chaser.

As Harry stood amongst the other students, he started to wonder why he’d ever thought he had a chance of getting onto the team. All of the other tryouts were taller, older, and far more athletic than Harry ever could be. The only other person who was trying out that was Harry’s age was Draco, who had an advantage of his own.

“My father’s promised to buy the whole team Nimbus 2001s, you know,” he’d spent the last week boasting. “Only if I get on the team, of course. It shouldn’t be that difficult, considering the lack of competition.”

At this point, he’d normally glare at Harry. As much as he hated to admit it, it was getting to him. While Harry’s parents had promised to get him a good broomstick if he made the team, they’d never buy the rest of the team brooms. Besides, Harry wouldn’t want to get on because of a bribe - he wanted to make the team because of talent. As he stood on the pitch, however, a bribe was starting to look more and more appealing. 

“Right, everyone gather round!” Flint barked. The Slytherins all formed a crowd, broomsticks in hand. Harry noticed Draco already had his own Nimbus 2001.

“You won’t be needing those just yet,” Flint said. “Drop them and do one lap of the lake. Last one back is immediately eliminated. Go!”

Everyone threw down their broomsticks and immediately started to sprint. Some of the students were fighting dirty - Harry saw a fifth-year boy push another boy into the lake to try and get ahead. He carefully kept his distance from the others, running close to the treeline.

As he made his way around the lake, Harry felt so grateful that he’d had the opportunity to train with the team last year. A lot of the other tryouts clearly weren’t used to the level of physical fitness Flint expected, and Harry found himself near the top of the pack. 

In the end, a fourth-year girl was the last one back, and Flint sent her off. Harry was a bit disappointed - Draco had been lagging towards the back, and he’d been hoping he’d be eliminated first. 

“Right, all of you grab your brooms” Marcus said. “Do one lap around the pitch so I can see if any of you can actually fly.”

Harry grabbed his Comet and kicked off from the ground. He scowled as he saw Draco speeding ahead, clearly showing off his Nimbus.

As he flew a circuit around the pitch, he noticed his friends sitting in the stands, watching. He gave them a smile and a wave, and all of them cheered. Harry felt touched - he knew none of them particularly liked Quidditch, but they had still made an effort to come.

As they finished the lap, a third-year boy who had been trying out for Beater was also culled. Harry could understand why - he’d barely been able to sit on the broom without wobbling.

Next, FIint began to test the players on different stunts. He got them to do dives, rolls and feints, all of which Harry managed to pull off. This managed to get the players going for Seeker down to four - Harry, Draco, and two sixth-year boys.

Flint then got the Snitch out. “Three rounds. It’s a practice Snitch, so I’ve set it up to stay on this quarter of the pitch. It should be a quick catch. Wait one wait until my whistle blows, then start looking. Good luck!” 

Flint threw the Snitch into the air. Harry tried to keep his eyes on it, but it quickly disappeared out of sight.

Finally, Flint blew his whistle and Harry ascended into the sky, circling the pitch for a glint of gold. He saw Draco doing the same thing nearby. He took a deep breath - he couldn’t let his nerves affect his concentration. 

After a few minutes had passed, Harry finally spotted a glint of gold at the base of one of the hoops. He subtly glanced around to see if he needed to throw off any of the others. When he saw the coast was clear, Harry dove. 

As he descended, Harry saw one of the other boys following him down out of the corner of his eye. He was fast, but Harry was faster…the Snitch was inches away…

Harry grabbed it and turned out of the dive, holding his hand up in the air. He smiled, relishing the victory.

Suddenly, something slammed into his side. Harry let go of the Snitch to grab onto his broom with both hands - whatever had hit him had almost knocked him off.

“Absolutely unacceptable!” Flint was shouting. Harry looked around and saw the Captain berating the sixth-year who Harry had beaten to the Snitch. 

“If you treat your own housemates like that, I don’t want you on this team! Get off my pitch right now!” The sixth-year grabbed his broom and stomped off, sending Flint a murderous look.

“Professor Snape will be hearing about this!” Flint called, before turning his attention back to the remaining players. “You alright, Harry?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his shoulder.

“Good. Let’s get to round two.”

Unfortunately for Harry, he wasn’t as successful his second time around. He’d noticed the Snitch, but so had Draco, who had been much closer. Harry had barely gotten halfway across the pitch before the other boy had caught it.

It happens, Harry tried to reassure himself as Draco sent him a smug grin. Seeking is part luck. If you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, there’s not much you can do.

Still, Harry felt like his chance was slipping through his fingers. Draco was pretty good. He didn’t have the chance to screw this up.

The third round took much longer than the other two. Fifteen minutes had passed, and Harry still hadn’t spotted the Snitch.

Finally, he saw it glittering at the edge of the stands. Unfortunately for Harry, Draco had been marking him for the last amount of time. Harry knew if Draco spotted him, he’d beat Harry to the Snitch.

He decided to try one last desperate tactic.

“Look over there!” he shouted, pointing in the opposite direction. Draco’s head snapped around, and Harry took his chance. He dove.

Still, the Snitch was far away, and Draco had a chance to catch up. He’d reached the tail of Harry’s broom…now their arms were parallel…

Harry stretched his wrist and barely managed to snatch the Snitch. He could feel Draco’s fingertips scrabble against his gloved hands, but it was too late. Harry had won it.

“Nice one, Potter,” Marcus grunted, taking the Snitch back.

“But he cheated!” Draco howled. “He tried to distract me!”

“But it worked, Malfoy,” Marcus said. “So Seeker tryouts are finished! I’ll be posting the results on the bulletin board tomorrow evening. The rest of you, let’s get to trying out the other positions.”

Harry, Draco and the fifth-year who had been trying out with them made their way into the changing rooms. As the door shut behind them, Harry felt a hand grab the back of his robes.

“If you’ve just screwed up my chance of getting on the team, Potter, you’re dead,” Draco growled. “You thought last year was bad? That was nothing. I can make your life hell.”

Harry scoffed, trying not to let his nervousness show. “What, Daddy’s money isn’t enough to get you on the team? Need some actual talent? Suck it up, Malfoy.”

Draco shoved him to the ground. “I have far more talent than a filthy half-blood like you could ever have-”

“You two, break it up!” the fifth-year said, stepping between them. “You’re acting like children! If you don’t stop it, I won’t hesitate to get Flint.”

Draco went silent and stomped away - not without sending Harry one last murderous look. Harry picked himself up from the floor, trying to look dignified.

Remember what Snape said , he thought, trying to calm his temper. His magic was burning a hole in his chest. Revenge is best served cold.

If Harry wandlessly threw Draco through a door, he’d get in trouble. If Harry anonymously hexed Draco, he could do all sorts of things to the other boy and never get caught. He could make him break out in boils, he could give him horrible stomach cramps, he could make him vomit slugs…after all, Harry shared a room with him. He spent the rest of the time changing fantasising about all the different ways he could torture Draco.

The next day, Harry and his friends didn’t go straight to the hideout to meet Neville and Hermione like they normally did. Instead, Tracey and Blaise accompanied him to the Slytherin common room to await the team list.

“I’m never getting on!” Harry said, burying his face in his hands. 

“Of course you will!” Blaise said. “You flew so well yesterday, Flint would be an idiot to not put you on the team.”

“You hate flying! I could have flown terribly and you wouldn’t be able to tell.” Harry said.

“Oi! We know enough,” Tracey said. “You flew in a straight line, and you caught two out of the three Snitches! That should be enough to get you on!

“But Draco still caught one, and he’s buying the whole team brooms!” Harry sighed. “I can’t compete with that.”

“True, but what’s the point of having good brooms if your Seeker can’t seek?” Blaise said. “You were born to be on a broom.”

“I don’t know how you two are so confident,” Harry said. “The odds of me making it are so low.”

“Ah, but those odds mean you earn even more if you’re right.” Blaise grinned.

Harry groaned. “Please don’t tell me you bet money on me making the team.”

“Of course we did!” Tracey said. “Because it’s going to happen!”

Just then, Marcus Flint came into the common room. He was holding a scroll of parchment. All the chatter died, and the prospective players stared at him eagerly.

He slapped the parchment to the bulletin board and left the room without saying a word. Everyone ran up to the board, Harry included, to read the results. 

Harry couldn’t see it himself, but a fifth-year girl called out the results.

“No changes to the regular team!” There were a couple of groans, and Harry saw Ollie’s face fall. “And, the Seeker will be played by Harry Potter!”

Blaise cheered, and Tracey ran up and grabbed his arms.

“You made it!” she said, shaking him.

“I made it!” he laughed. Harry couldn’t quite believe it. Once the worst of the crowd had cleared away, he went to the list so he could read it himself.

Seeker - Harry Potter .

“Well done mate!” Blaise clapped Harry on the back. “We should go find Neville and Hermione and celebrate! I’m sure they’ll be waiting for you.”

“I just need to run and do something first,” Harry said. He had set a meetup with Mike and Darcy to sell some cigarettes that afternoon. “I’ll be up there soon?”

“Great!” Blaise said. “It’ll give us more time to set up the party.”

“We need to figure out where the kitchens are,” Tracey said. “Once we know, then we can throw proper parties.”

Harry left them to it, feeling a twinge of guilt as he went down the corridor to his dormitory. He hated lying to his friends.

Before getting out the cigarettes, however, Harry pulled his two-way notebook out of the trunk. He knew there was someone else who would want to hear this news.

I made the team! He wrote, smiling to himself. Harry went to put the notebook away, but moments later, writing started to appear.

THAT’S AMAZING ! Jasmine wrote back. I knew you could do it!!

Thanks! Harry smiled and closed the notebook. He’d told her about the tryouts the night before, but he hadn’t been expecting her to write back that quickly. He loved that she was so excited for him.

After putting away the notebook, Harry dug through the piles of clothes in his trunk that hid the shoebox. He opened it and carefully withdrew a pack of cigarettes, then shoved them in the pocket of his robes. 

Suddenly, he heard the door opening. Harry threw some clothes over the shoebox, praying it would cover it. 

It was Draco. His already dark expression grew darker when he saw Harry.

“Dead, Potter,” he growled. “Dead. You mark my words.”

He cast a suspicious glance at Harry, who was still sitting next to his trunk. Harry tried to school his features - he knew he probably looked incredibly guilty.

Draco went over to the bathroom and slammed the door with more force than was strictly necessary. Harry sighed with relief and quickly covered up the cigarettes properly, before grabbing his cloak to head out.

Darcy and Mike were already standing around behind the greenhouses smoking when Harry got there.

“Hi, guys,” he said. “Wanna buy anymore?”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you weren’t doing this anymore.”

Harry scowled. “Plans changed. Do you want them or not?”

“Fine, fine,” she gave the money to Harry.

“Do you know anyone else who might want these?” he asked. “I’ve got loads this year.”

Katie, who had clearly not been happy with Harry at the end of the summer, had given him far too many packs with instructions to sell them all. Harry wasn’t sure how he was going to do it unless he got a lot more customers.

Mike’s brow furrowed. “Well, I think I know some Gryffindor fifth-years who might be interested…”

“And what is going on here?” A squeaky voice demanded. Mike’s face went chalk-white.

Harry turned around slowly, feeling his stomach twist.

It was Professor Flitwick.

He’d been caught.

Chapter Text

Harry sat in the chair with his head bowed. He was sitting in Professor Snape’s office alone, waiting for him to arrive. After dropping Mike and Darcy off with Professor Sprout, Flitwick had escorted Harry down to the dungeons and explained the situation to his housemaster. Snape, who had spent the entire explanation silently glaring at Harry, only said “Wait here” before sweeping out of the office. Harry had no idea what he was waiting for, but he knew it couldn’t be good. His heart was hammering in his chest.

After what felt like forever, Snape stormed back into the office. He had a shoebox in his hands. Harry felt his heart sink.

Snape opened the lid and dumped the contents onto his desk. Cartons of cigarettes and his stash of sickles all fell out, forming a small pile.

“Imagine my surprise, Potter,” he said in a quiet voice, “When one of your housemates reports suspicious behaviour from you in the dorms.”

Draco, Harry thought miserably.

“But before I have a chance to check exactly what contraband you have, Professor Flitwick is here telling me you’ve been running an illegal cigarette business!” Snape shouted, the calm exterior gone.

“Do you realise how serious this is, Potter?” Snape demanded. “You could get expelled for this, you know!”

Harry shrank even further down into the chair.

“In fact, expulsion may still be on the table!” Snape said, slamming his hands onto the desk. “I haven’t thoroughly checked your dorm yet, but I will be before you’re allowed to step a toe back in there. If I find a single other item of contraband - any drugs, any alcohol, anything - you would be lucky to stay in this school another hour.”

Harry, to his disgust, felt his eyes filling with tears. He’d ruined everything. He was never going to be a wizard now.

Snape sighed angrily, and pulled out his wand. Harry flinched; was Snape going to curse him?

Snape did not, however, do that. Instead, he muttered a spell that vanished all the items on the desk. 

“Your guardians will be here soon, Potter,” Snape said. Harry hadn’t thought it was possible, but his feelings of dread grew. “We will all be discussing what to do with you.”

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“In the meantime,” Snape continued, “I have a couple of questions. First of all, where did you get these cigarettes?”

Harry didn’t respond.

“Potter,” Snape said, glaring at Harry. “That question was not optional. Now, let me ask you again. Where did you get them?”

I’ll be in more trouble if I tell them, Harry thought. I can’t let Katie find out.

“I bought them,” Harry lied. “There’s a corner shop near my house that sells them.”

“You’re aware that you cannot purchase tobacco until age 16, correct?” he said smoothly.

Harry shrugged. “The guy doesn’t care. He sells them to anyone.”

“Potter, do you know what a legilimens is?” Snape asked. Harry shook his head.

“It is a person who is capable of reading the minds of others,” Snape said. “I just so happen to be a legilimens, Potter.”

Harry’s breathing sped up. Was Snape reading his mind right now? Could he see everything about Katie and Dan and everyone in the gang that he was trying to hide?

“It also means that I can almost always discern when someone is lying,” Snape said. “And I know you’re lying to me Potter.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped.

“Now, if you value your place at the school, you’ll tell me where these came from immediately.”

“I can’t, sir!” Harry said desperately.

“Why is that?”

“They threatened me,” Harry mumbled, slumping further down into his seat.

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Who did? Was it those Hufflepuffs?”

“No,” Harry said, biting his lip. “They said they’d break into my house. I thought they’d hurt my family if I didn’t do what they wanted.”

“Potter, you still haven’t told me who these people are,” Snape said, looking very concerned.

“I can’t say,” Harry said, fidgeting with his hands.

There was a knock at the door.

“That will be your guardians, I assume,” Snape said, getting up from his desk. “We’ll be coming back to this.”

He went over to the door and opened it. Lily, James and Sirius all came into the room.

“Selling cigarettes?” Lily shouted. Her face was as red as her hair. “Seriously, Harry?”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve been smoking them, too,” James said, rubbing his forehead.

“No,” Harry said.

“How on earth didn’t you notice this going on?” Lily said, jabbing her finger at Snape. “How long exactly has this been going on for, Harry?”

“Not that long,” Harry mumbled.

“How. Long?” Lily asked through gritted teeth.

“Since first-year,” Harry admitted.

“Since first-year?!” Lily screeched. “Merlin’s beard Severus, he’s in your house! Don’t you have eyes ?”

Snape stood behind his desk and didn’t reply, scowl deepening.

“What do you expect from Snape?” Sirius muttered to James.

“Black, do not start,” Snape growled. “I will have you out of my office in an instant.”

Sirius scoffed but didn’t say anything else.

“Please, take a seat, all of you,” Snape said, conjuring up three chairs. Sirius and James sat either side of Harry, with Lily to James’ right. 

“I am currently trying to determine how exactly these cigarettes came into his possession,” Snape said. “Mr Potter has told me that someone has been threatening him. Do you have any idea who this could be?”

They all shook their heads.

“Harry, why didn’t you come to me if someone was threatening you?” Sirius asked, face falling.

“That is the question, isn’t it,” Snape said, rolling his eyes. Sirius glared at Snape again but didn’t say anything, to Harry’s relief.

Lily frowned. “Harry, does this have anything to do with that muggle girl who came to our house in July?”

Harry froze.

“N-no,” he stammered. “That was just a friend, like I said!”

“I don’t think it was, Potter,” Snape said. “Given your reaction.”

“If she’s a muggle, you know we can deal with that easily, right?” James said. “We can obliviate you from her memory, if you’d like. We just need a name.”

“Obliviate?” Harry asked. 

“Memory Charm,” James explained. “So she’d forget who you are, and this whole business will be over.”

Harry hadn’t realised it could be that easy.

“Fine,” he said, nervously tapping his foot on the floor. He didn’t quite know how to get the words out. 

“Her name’s Katie.”

“Any last name?” Snape asked.

“I don’t know it,” Harry said. “She never told me.”

“Could you tell us what she looks like?” James asked.

“She’s got dyed black hair,” Harry said. “She normally has on lots of makeup. Brown eyes. She goes to Highgate Academy.”

“That narrows it down a bit,” James said, pulling out a notebook from the pocket of his robes and scribbling something down. “Thanks.”

“Is there anyone else involved that we should know about?” Snape asked.

Harry rattled off as many of the gang members as he could think of, although he didn’t mention Dan. Harry knew his friend was just as trapped in this as he was, and he didn’t want Dan to get the blame. Besides, the idea of being wiped completely from Dan’s memory was too much for Harry to bear. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Well, Harry, I can deal with this accordingly, then,” James said.

“Thanks for your assistance,” Snape said. “Now, I have another question. Who exactly were you selling these to?”

“Just Mike and Darcy,” Harry said. “Honestly.”

Harry thought they might have been reselling them - he wasn’t sure if someone could smoke the amount they’d been buying from him by themselves - but he chose not to mention that.

“I’m sure Professor Sprout will deal with them,” Snape said. “They should know better than to buy cigarettes from a second-year. Honestly!”

They’re going to kill me, Harry thought suddenly. Katie was on the other side of the country, but they were right in the castle with him. Were they going to blame him for getting caught, somehow?

“Now, if you’d oblige, I’d like to discuss Harry’s punishment.” Snape continued.

“He’s not going to be expelled, is he?” Sirius asked.

“No,” Snape said. “Even though what he did was clearly against the rules, I understand Harry is more of a victim in this situation, from what he’s told us.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“He is, however, going to be in a lot of detention,” Snape said, glaring at Harry. “Every night for the next month. You’re lucky I’m not removing you from the Quidditch team over this, Potter. If you put another toe out of line, you’re off. Got it?”

“Okay,” Harry said weakly. It almost felt too good to be true.

“You made the Quidditch team?” James asked, face lighting up. “Well done! That’s amazing, and as a second-year, too!”

“James!” Lily hissed, elbowing him in the side.

“Right,” James said, shaking himself.

Snape shook his head and sighed. “That’s all, then. I’m going to do another search of Potter’s dorm, but you three are free to go if you wish.”

“Thanks for meeting with us, Severus,” Lily said, standing up. She narrowed her eyes at Harry. “I’d like to have a private word with Harry, if that’s possible.”

“Very well,” Snape said. “Potter, don’t leave before I get back. We still need to talk.”

Snape strode out of the office and shut the door behind him.

“Between you and your brother, I’ve heard far too much from Hogwarts about your misbehaviour!” Lily said, voice rising once again. “You need to cut this out!”

“Okay,” Harry said. He felt a flicker of resentment that he was being lumped into the same category as Ollie, but thought it was wiser to not say anything.

“Do you realise how dangerous it is to get mixed up with people like that?” James said with uncharacteristic sternness. “You could have been arrested! Worse, you could have been hurt! If something happened to you it would kill me!”

“Sorry,” Harry said again, feeling even more miserable. 

“Things are going to be changing around the house, mark my words,” Lily growled. “I don’t know where I went wrong with you, but I won’t stand for this behaviour anymore.”

Suddenly, Harry’s guilty feelings dissipated. For the first time in a while that low, burning anger was back.

“I think I know,” Harry muttered. 

“Know what?” Lily spat.

“Know where you went wrong with me,” Harry said, clenching his fists. “Maybe it had something to do with you abandoning me with your abusive sister?”

Lily’s face crumpled. 

“Maybe it had something to do with growing up in a flipping cupboard ?” Harry shouted. “Having no friends my whole life? Katie was one of the first people I found who didn’t hate me for existing! How do you think I felt when I realised she was just using me to sell shit!”

To Harry’s disgust, his eyes were welling up.

“I don’t owe you anything!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I don’t owe you good behaviour! You’re lucky I even speak to you after everything you’ve done to me!”

Sirius gently grabbed onto Harry’s hand.

“Why did you do it?” Harry sobbed, crumpling into Sirius’ arms. “Why did you leave me with them? Why don’t you want me?”

“We wanted you, Harry,” James said shakily, bending down in front of him. “We wanted you so, so much. I just didn’t want someone to hurt you, like they did to your mother. I wanted you to be safe, even if it broke my heart to give you to Petunia. I love you so much.”

“We didn’t know, Harry,” Lily said, tears streaming down her face. “If we knew what they were doing, we would have taken you away from her in a heartbeat!”

“Then why didn’t you check!” Harry shouted. He heard something shatter in the background. 

Lily and James stood there silently.

“What, haven’t got any excuses now?” Harry asked, feeling a bit hysterical. 

“Just that we’re sorry,” James said. “We’re so, so sorry. If I could do anything to change it, I would. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Well you can’t,” Harry whispered. “You can’t change it.”

“I think you two should leave,” Sirius said, gently rubbing Harry’s back.

“I’ll write to you as soon as I deal with these muggles,” James said quietly, hanging his head. Harry didn’t respond. The two of them walked out of the office, leaving Harry crying in Sirius’ arms.

“Just breathe, Harry,” Sirius murmured. “Breathe.”

Harry took a few deep, rasping breaths until his tears slowed.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, wiping his eyes aggressively. “I don’t know why that all exploded out.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Why can't I just move on? Am I just going to be stuck like this forever? An emotional mess?”

“You’re not a mess!” Sirius said. “And you don’t have to move on if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to though. I wish things could just be normal , you know?” Harry said. “I just want us to be a happy family. Why does it all have to be so difficult and messy?”

Sirius sighed. “I don’t know, kiddo. Sometimes I just think that’s how family is.”

“Every time I think I’ve accepted it, I blow up like that,” Harry said, biting his lip. “I don’t know why they even bother with me anymore. They probably just want to go back to their perfect family before I was around.”

“Believe me, Harry, that is the last thing your parents would do,” he said seriously. “Despite everything they’ve done, they love you so much, in their own…messy way. They aren’t going to give up on you.”

Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair.

“Even before you came to live with them again, things weren’t great,” Sirius said. “They fought a lot about leaving you. Your dad nearly went back to get you a few times, but Dumbledore always stopped him.”

“Dumbledore?” Harry said, alarmed. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“Exactly,” Sirius said grimly. “ Either way, he’s involved. He was the one who told your parents you were a Squib. They were so furious when they found out he was wrong that they almost sent you and Ollie to Beauxbatons. Dumbledore also thought it would make you a target to be in the Wizarding World without magic. That’s why they all decided to send you away.”

“I didn’t know that,” Harry said weakly. “I always thought he just said I was a Squib and moved on. I didn’t know he was that involved.”

“Well, you were only nine when it was all going down,” Sirius sighed. “We were all trying to protect you from it. Still, I think you’re old enough to know now. Besides, you have the right.”

“How could he even make a mistake like that?” Harry burst out.

“It’s because of the magic that Alice Longbottom used the night Voldemort attacked,” Sirius explained. “Her sacrifice enabled this powerful blood protection that stopped Voldemort killing Ollie that night. It extended to you and Neville, too, but it’s strongest in his blood, since he’s the one the Killing Curse rebounded off of. With Ollie, you could still detect traces of his magic under the protection. With you and Neville, though, Dumbledore couldn’t sense anything. That’s why he thought you were both Squibs.”

Sirius frowned. “Did I explain that right? It’s all super complicated. I don’t really understand it myself, to be honest.”

“I think I do,” Harry said. “Her powerful magic sort of masked mine?”

“Exactly,” Sirius said. “Even a powerful wizard like Dumbledore could get mixed up.”

Harry still felt annoyed with the Headmaster. He’d been at least somewhat responsible for Harry’s family being broken up.

The door opened and Snape came back in. He glanced around the room and immediately scowled.

“Destroying my property, Black?” he asked angrily, gesturing to a few shattered jars on his shelf. “Unbelievable! Using a disciplinary meeting to continue your campaign of terror-”

“Merlin’s balls, Snape, I’m not twelve years old anymore!” Sirius shouted. “For your information, there was an argument with Lily and James! Harry’s magic got a little out of control.”

“Oh,” Snape said, cheeks reddening. “I see. My apologies to the two of you.”

“Sorry for breaking your stuff, sir,” Harry mumbled. 

“It’s fine, Harry,” Snape sighed. “You're not the first student to accidentally break some jars in my office. I never keep valuables in here for that exact reason.”

He waved his wand at the broken glass, which promptly vanished.

“I’ve got to run, Harry, I need to pick Adhara up from her mums,” Sirius said. “But please, if something happens to you in the future, don’t keep it all to yourself, alright? You can always ask me for help. I won’t flip out or anything, I promise.”

 Harry could see the hurt shining in his steel-grey eyes and felt a stab of guilt. 

“Just remember the whole world isn’t against you, okay?” Sirius said. “Goodbye, Harry. Snape.”

He slipped out of the office, leaving Harry alone with Snape. 

“Well, there was nothing else of concern in your dormitory, Potter,” Snape said, staring down his long nose at him. Harry tried not to show how visibly relieved he was; Snape somehow hadn’t found the invisibility cloak.

“Do you want to talk about what happened with your parents?” Snape asked. 

“Nope.”

“Well, we can discuss it at your next mentoring session, then,” Snape said, “since you’re clearly quite upset about it.”

“Fine,” Harry muttered.

“Is there anything else you wish to tell me?” Snape asked. Harry thought for a moment and shook his head.

“Very well. I’ll send you a note with the details of your detention. Also, you’re to stay in the common room or your dormitory for the rest of today.” 

Sensing he was being dismissed, Harry got up and started walking to the door.

“Oh, and Potter?” Snape said. “As much as I hate to say it, take Black’s words to heart. The world really isn’t against you.”

“I’ll try, sir,” Harry said, shutting the door.

Harry was just glad Draco wasn’t around when he got back to the common room. If he had been, Harry was almost certain he would have hexed him. Even though Flitwick had been the one to catch him, Slytherin had a strict ‘don’t rat’ rule that Draco had broken, which had revealed Harry’s stash. It had landed him a month of detention and almost gotten him kicked off the Quidditch team. He needed some sort of revenge.

Harry threw himself onto his bed and ripped the hangings shut. He buried his face under his pillow.

The day had started out so wonderfully. How had it gone downhill so quickly?

After about twenty minutes of moping, Harry felt a hand gently shaking his shoulder.

“Harry?” It was Blaise. “What are you doing in here? I thought you were going to meet us in the hideout.”

“I can’t anymore,” Harry mumbled. “Everything’s ruined.”

He felt Blaise remove the pillow from his head. “What’s happened?”

“I’m in loads of trouble,” he said, feeling his eyes well up again. “I’ve got a ton of detention and I got into a massive fight with my parents.”

“That sounds really shit,” Blaise said sympathetically.

Harry didn’t respond. He burrowed further into the duvet.

“So…what did you do ?” Blaise asked hesitantly.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry said. Then, he remembered Sirius’ words.

Remember the whole world isn’t against you.

Harry knew he needed to start confiding in his friends more. Blaise had always been loyal to him; what was stopping Harry?

“Well actually,” Harry began hesitantly. “I was selling stuff. Cigarettes. I was involved with a bad group of muggles, and they were threatening me.”

“Is that where you’ve been disappearing off to this whole time?” Blaise asked. Harry nodded.

“Wow.” Blaise didn’t say anything else.

“You don’t hate me, right?” he asked.

“Of course not!” Blaise assured him. “Why would I? I just feel a bit bad for you. It sounds like it was really hard to deal with.”

“I’m surprised I managed it for this long, honestly,” Harry said, smiling weakly.

“You can always trust me, alright?” Blaise said. “I promise I’ll have your back, no matter what.”

Harry sat up and hugged him.

Chapter Text

The next month was not fun for Harry. Not only was he struggling to balance his numerous detentions with Quidditch practice, he was also subjected to multiple lectures from Snape about red flags in mentoring, which Harry found grating and unnecessary. Of course he knew now about what he should have avoided with Katie.

Harry also just felt generally miserable and deflated after the events in Snape’s office. The fight with his parents was still haunting him. Harry felt like he’d gone fifty steps back in their relationship, and wasn’t quite sure what to do to fix it. He’d taken to ignoring their apologetic letters; it was just easier. Harry decided he’d figure out what to do about that closer to Christmas, when he needed to actually see them again.

The detentions, as usual, were tedious. Not only was Harry forced to scrub cauldrons under the watchful eye of Snape, but he was also left with Filch to work on whatever unpleasant tasks the caretaker had prepared. One night, he was even made to polish trophies with Ron Weasley, who he’d never gotten on with. Luckily, both of them were content to work in silence.

That was, until Harry heard a chilling whisper.

“ Come… come to me… Let me rip you.. .Let me tear you…Let me kill you… ” 

Harry jumped, almost knocking his trophy to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Ron asked.

“That voice!” he said frantically.

“What voice?” Ron asked, frowning.

“You…you didn’t…”

“No?” Ron looked quite worried now.

“I’m…I’m probably just tired,” Harry said quickly. If he was hearing things, he definitely didn’t want Ron to know about it.

“Makes sense,” Ron said, rubbing his shoulder. “We’ve been at this for hours, my arms are killing me.”

The silence descended again, before Ron cleared his throat.

“Um, Harry,” he began hesitantly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, but…I'm really sorry about the way I’ve treated you.”

“What?” Harry said. Was he hallucinating again?

“I just…I was always friends with Ollie, and I just kind of followed what he does, but in the last year I realised he can be…well, really nasty,” Ron said. “I’m done with him now. I’m so sorry I was a part of how horrible he was to you.”

“Wow. Uh, thanks for the apology,” Harry said slowly. He wasn’t sure if he forgave Ron - he didn’t really have strong feelings towards him in general. Now that he thought about it, though, Ron had seemed to be pulling away from Ollie over the last year. Apart from the pool incident, Harry couldn’t think of that many times Ron was involved in how horrible Ollie was to him. Draco seemed to have taken his place.

“Also, I don’t know how helpful this is, but I sort of get it,” Ron said. “Being overshadowed by your brothers, I mean. I always feel like I have a lot to live up to, with how successful my brothers are.”

“It’s really annoying, isn’t it?” Harry said, angrily rubbing polish into the trophy. 

“Yeah!” Ron said, turning to Harry. “Like whatever you do, you’ll never measure up. It must be even worse for you, since he’s so famous.”

“Yeah,” Harry grimaced. “I could be Head Boy, or even Minister of Magic, but how are you supposed to compete with someone who defeated a Dark Lord? As a baby, too!”

Ron winced at Harry’s use of the name. “It must be a nightmare.”

“You two, stop chattering!” Filch snapped. Harry jumped; he hadn’t noticed the caretaker come back. “I’ll keep you here all night if I have to!”

Harry rolled his eyes and got back to work. 

Finally, halfway into October, Harry finished his detentions. He felt an immense sense of relief - now he could finally put the whole business behind him. He especially felt that way when he got a letter from his father.

Dear Harry,

I hope everything’s okay.

I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been dealing with those muggles who were threatening you. They’ve been obliviated, and won’t remember you anymore. I also tipped off the muggle police about some of their illegal activities, and some of them have been arrested. If you want, I’ll use my connections with the muggle police to keep you updated on their trials and what they’ve been charged with. Just let me know.

I hope you’re having a good term. 

Dad

As Harry tucked the letter away, he couldn’t help but feel a bit strange. Even though Katie had been horrible to him, it was weird to think that he’d been completely wiped from her mind. 

Harry sighed and stared at the breakfast table. He did want to get updated, and find out whether or not the gang went to prison, but that involved writing to his dad, which he hadn’t done in a while…

Still, Harry decided he would just suck it up and break his silence. That night, he picked up a quill and wrote a short note.

I’m alright, thanks. If you could, I’d like to stay updated on their trials. 

Hope you’re doing well.

As Halloween grew ever-closer, Hogwarts was decked out with decorations. Enchanted bats flew in the Great Hall, and Hagrid had carved some giant pumpkins and filled them with brightly-burning candles. As the day grew closer, however, Harry noticed Neville becoming more and more withdrawn, presumably because of his parents.

The day before, Harry pulled him aside.

“So I’m assuming you don’t want to go to the feast again tomorrow, right?” Harry asked. 

Neville nodded.

“How about we have our own meal in the hideout, just the five of us?” Harry suggested. “If you want to, of course. You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I don’t want you all to miss the feast on account of me,” Neville said hesitantly.

“Oh, that’s not a problem!” Harry said quickly. “There’s other feasts, it’s not important.” 

“I think I’d like that, then, thanks,” Neville said with a small smile.

The next day, Harry, Tracey and Blaise made their way up to the hideout, where Hermione and Neville were already sitting. For once, Hermione wasn’t even trying to do her homework in the background as they all hung out, playing games and sharing stories.

Eventually, the sky outside began to darken and Tracey cleared her throat.

“I’m feeling a bit peckish,” she said. “How about a few of us go down to the Great Hall and grab some food?”

“I’ll come with you, if you want?” Harry offered.

“We’ll see you in a bit, then!” Blaise said. Harry and Tracey left the hideout and started to make their way down to the Great Hall.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. We need to find the flipping kitchens!” Tracey grumbled. “I’ve spent the last month looking and I have no clue where they could be.”

“I could always ask Sirius at Christmas,” Harry said. “He and my dad apparently used to sneak there loads. I don’t know if he’d tell me, though…he thinks telling me about all the passages takes the fun out of finding them or something.”

Tracey snorted.

They had just reached the steps up to the entrance hall when Harry heard it.

“ … rip… tear… kill… ” 

He stopped dead. It was that strange, cold voice he’d heard the night of his detention. He looked around the dimly lit passageway, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from

“Harry, what are you-” 

“Shush!” he hissed at Tracey. “I hear something…”

“ … soo hungry… for so long… ” 

“Listen!” said Harry urgently. Tracey gave him a worried look. “Don’t you hear that?”

 “ … kill… time to kill… ” 

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away, somehow upwards. How was that possible?

“This way,” he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall and up the marble staircase to the first floor, Tracey struggling to keep up.

 “Harry, can you explain-” 

“Be quiet! I’m trying to listen!” 

Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice.

“ … I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD! ”

“It’s going to kill someone!” he shouted, and ignoring Tracey’s concerned look, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen to hear that voice again-

They finally stopped in a deserted passage, and Tracey gasped.

“Oh my God, Harry, look!” she pointed down the deserted corridor, face white.

Harry went forwards, squinting to see through the dim light. Tall, shimmering letters had been scrawled onto the corridor wall.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. 

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Harry gingerly trudged forward through a puddle of water, trying to get a closer look. Suddenly, he saw a shadowy shape dangling off a torch bracket. 

He gasped. It was Mrs Norris, stiff as a board. Her red eyes were glinting in the torchlight like the red letters on the wall next to her.

“We need to get out of here,” Tracey said firmly, grabbing Harry’s shoulder. He could feel her hand shaking.

“Definitely,” Harry agreed, but it was too late. The feast must have ended, and Harry could hear hundreds of chattering students coming at them from both ends of the corridor. It all stopped suddenly when they all saw the cat, with Harry and Tracey standing in front of it.

We are so dead, Harry thought faintly.

A gleeful shout broke the silence.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” 

It was Draco. He had pushed his way to the front of the crowd, and was grinning at the sight of the frozen, hanging cat.

Change of plan. He's so dead. Harry felt the anger rushing through his body, and took a deep breath. The only thing that could make this worse for him was if he threw Draco into a wall in front of the entire school.

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” 

Attracted by Malfoy’s shout, Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. He saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his red face in horror. 

“My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” he shrieked. 

And his furious gaze landed on Harry and Tracey.

“You!” he screeched. “You! You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll-” 

“Argus!” It was Dumbledore. He had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. 

In seconds, he had silenced Filch, and had detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket she was hanging from.

“Come with me, Argus,” he said to Filch. “You, too, Mr. Potter, Miss Davis.” 

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. 

“My office is nearest, Headmaster - just upstairs - please feel free.” 

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” said Dumbledore. The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, who was preening like a peacock, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape. He walked behind Tracey and Harry, looking rather worried.

Lockhart’s office was exactly the way Harry would have expected it to look. Almost every single area of the wall was covered in portraits of himself, who were all wearing robes and rollers, and the little space that wasn’t covered by portraits was occupied by mirrors.

Dumbledore placed Mrs Norris onto Lockharts desk and started examining her closely, McGonagall right by his side. Snape was still standing by Tracey and Harry, not saying a thing. Lockhart, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be able to stop talking as he gave suggestions for what could have happened to Mrs Norris. 

“It was definitely a curse that killed her - probably the Transmogrifian Torture - I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…”

In the background, Filch was sobbing. Despite himself, Harry felt a little bit bad for the man. He knew that cat was Filch’s entire life.

Dumbledore began muttering strange words and prodding Mrs Norris with his wand, to no effect. She continued to lie there, frozen.

“… I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou,” said Lockhart, “A series of attacks, the full story’s in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…” 

Dumbledore cleared his throat, finally providing an end to Lockhart’s rambling.

“She’s not dead, Argus,” he said softly. 

“Not dead?” choked Filch. 

“She has been Petrified,” said Dumbledore gravely. “But how, I cannot say…” 

“Ask them!” shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry. 

“No second year could have done this,” said Dumbledore firmly. “it would take Dark Magic of the most advanced-” 

“They did it, they did it!” Filch spat, his wrinkled face purpling. “They’re - they’re Slytherins! They know all sort of dark spells and besides, they hate - they hate my kind!”

“We didn’t touch her!” Harry shouted, crossing his arms.

“I can assure you these twelve year old children are not being taught Dark Magic, Argus, if that’s what you’re implying,” Snape said quietly, glaring at Filch. He quickly stopped shouting, but continued to glare in Harry’s direction. “Potter and Davis were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, as it were.”

“But why were you two in the second-floor corridor?” McGonagall asked, “Instead of at the Halloween feast with everyone else?”

“We were with Neville,” Harry said. McGonagall nodded in understanding - she clearly knew about the anniversary.

“We’d just gone down from where we were to get some food from the Great Hall when we saw… that ,” Tracey said, gesturing helplessly at Mrs Norris.

“Well, that clears that up, I suppose,” Dumbledore said serenely. "They were uninvolved."

 “My cat has been Petrified!” Filch shrieked, his eyes popping. “I want to see some punishment!” 

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” said Dumbledore patiently. “Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris.” 

“I’ll make it,” Lockhart butted in, flashing his shiny white teeth. “I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep-” 

“Excuse me,” said Snape icily. “But I believe I am the Potions master at this school.” 

There was a very awkward pause. Harry resisted the urge to grin.

“You may go,” Dumbledore said to Harry and Tracey. They went, as quickly as they could without actually running.

“Wait.” 

It was Snape, lingering outside of Lockhart’s office. He quietly shut the door.

“You two need to be very careful,” he whispered, furtively glancing about. “Something is very wrong here, and you were caught at the scene of the crime. People will get ideas about this.”

“I understand, sir,” Harry said quietly. Tracey nodded.

“Run along now,” Snape ordered. “I’m not finished here. And don’t do anything stupid, please?”

Harry and Tracey quickly walked off. The last thing he saw was Snape’s deeply worried look.

When they were a floor up from Lockhart’s office, Harry finally felt comfortable speaking.

“Should I have told him about that voice I heard?” he asked.

“No,” Tracey said immediately. “You don’t want people knowing you can hear voices nobody else can, that’s never a good sign. I think we should tell the others, though. They might be able to figure out what happened.”

They stayed silent until they reached the hideout. After exchanging worried looks, Harry and Tracey crawled through the fake back of the cupboard and into their room.

“What took you guys so long?” Blaise asked. His expression instantly grew serious when he saw Harry and Tracey’s faces. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Harry and Tracey filled them all in on everything that had happened, including the strange voice Harry had heard.

“The whole thing’s really weird,” Harry said, anxiously biting his lip.

“I know,” Hermione said in a low voice. “What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened ?” 

“I think I might have heard about it before, actually,” Blaise said slowly. “Mother mentioned it in passing…something to do with Salazar Slytherin, like a Chamber of Secrets.”

“Maybe that explains Draco’s reaction, then,” Tracey said, making a noise of disgust. “Enemies of the Heir…that must mean muggleborns.”

“Great,” Hermione said, sighing.

“What about that voice Harry heard?” Neville asked. “Do you think that’s connected?”

“It must be,” Harry said. “It was talking about blood and killing. Then we found Mrs Norris like that? It’s definitely related, as much as I hate to say it...”

“If you hear it again, don’t follow it,” Blaise said sternly. “We don’t want something to happen to you Harry.”

“Yeah,” Hermione chimed in, grabbing Harry’s hand. “But what could it be, though? Why is there a monster roaming the halls, and how is it connected to this Chamber? And why can’t anybody but Harry hear it? What even is it?”

They all sat there in silence. Clearly no one had any ideas.

Suddenly a clock chimed. 

“Shit, it’s nine o’clock!” Tracey said. “Sorry Neville, we have to run, or Snape will kill us…”

“It’s alright,” Neville said. “See you all tomorrow.”

As they made their way through the corridors, Harry couldn’t shake the feelings of dread pooling in his stomach. 

Something was deeply wrong here, and he knew it was just going to get worse.

Chapter Text

Draco, of course, was thrilled about everything that had happened on Halloween. If Harry had thought he was insufferable before, Draco had reached new heights now.

“Just you all wait,” he said gleefully. “This Heir business is going to result in something good. All the muggleborns will be out, mark my words.”

He spent most of the evening sitting in an armchair like it was a throne, with Vince and Greg flanking him and Pansy eagerly sitting at his side and hanging onto his every word. Ollie was suspiciously absent.

Most of the older Slytherins ignored Draco, of course, but that didn’t mean they didn’t share his views. There was a strange sense of anticipation filling the Slytherin common room, and many of the students were whispering gleefully to each other. Harry, to his disgust, started catching the word ‘mudblood’ being thrown about much more than it had been before Halloween. It all made him so angry that he kept having to leave the common room after five minutes of being in there to smash something.

It wasn’t like the common room was a safe place for Harry to be anyway. The pureblood superiority sentiment that was ever-present in Slytherin had worsened after the attacks. In the course of a few days, Harry and Tracey had been hit by all sorts of jinxes and hexes. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were half-bloods, or because they’d both been found at the scene of the attack. Harry suspected it was both.

It was clear the rest of the school were also quite affected by the attack. It was all anyone spoke about for days after it had happened, all theorising about what had happened and who was responsible. Typically, the lead suspects were Harry and Tracey.

Hermione, on the other hand, had decided to do what she did best; research.

“Do any of you have a copy of Hogwarts, a History ?” she asked the next day at lunch. “All the copies have been taken out of the library, and I didn’t bring mine this year.”

Of course, nobody had.

“I could write to my sister and ask her to mail it, if you want?” Harry suggested.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “No, thanks. That’ll take forever and I’ve got another plan that’ll get results.”

The bell rang, marking the end of lunch. Hermione and Neville ran off to get to their next lesson.

“So what do you think she’s going to do?” Harry said.

Tracey rolled her eyes. “Who knows? She’s pretty cryptic. We’ll find out soon enough.”

After the afternoon lessons were finished, Harry, Tracey and Blaise made their way up to the hideout where Hermione was chattering animatedly to Neville.

“Secret plan already work out?” Tracey asked dryly.

“I spoke to Professor Binns!” Hermione said, ignoring Tracey. “He said that the Chamber of Secrets is something that Salazar Slytherin designed. Only his heir could open it, and it’s said that there’s a monster that lies within that’ll purge the school of all muggleborns.”

Harry made a disgusted noise. “It’s probably just one of the Slytherin bigots playing a horrible prank.”

“I’m not so sure,” Tracey said slowly. “Dumbledore couldn’t put Mrs Norris back after she’d been attacked. I’m not sure a student could do that.”

“How about we have a poke around the scene of the crime?” Blaise suggested. “It can’t hurt…”

Since they didn’t really have anything better to do, Harry and his friends made their way down to the second-floor corridor, which was deserted. He got on his hands and knees and started looking around on the floor. There were some strange scorch marks.

“Come and look at this!” Hermione said from further along.

Harry got up and went over to the windowpane where she was standing. A long stream of spiders were scurrying out, fighting to squeeze through a small crack.

“Eugh,” Blaise said, screwing up his nose. “Why are there so many of them?”

“I’ve never seen spiders act like this…” Hermione said, squinting closely at them.

Hey guys?” Tracey said. She was standing by the door of the girls' lavatory. “There was a bunch of water here on Halloween, but it’s all been mopped up. It must have come from the bathroom.”

“Should we have a poke around?” Tracey suggested.

“But that’s a girls’ toilet,” Neville said, frowning. “We can’t go in there.”

“There’ll be no one to see, let’s just go!” Hermione said impatiently, pushing through the door and ignoring the out of order sign.

“What on earth are you all doing?” an indignant voice said from behind them. Harry spun around; it was Percy Weasley.

“We’re - we’re just having a look around,” Neville stammered. 

“You should not be poking around a girls’ toilet !” Percy hissed. “This is none of your business! Five points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and clear off, the lot of you!”

They all walked gloomily off to dinner, Percy Weasley glaring at them from the second floor corridor. 

“Guess we won’t be able to go back there,” Tracey sighed. “He’ll be keeping an eye out…”

They all ate quickly, sending each other worried glances from across the Great Hall. Harry noticed a couple of Hufflepuffs were staring at him and whispering amongst themselves.

“So who do you think it could be?” Hermione muttered as they all reunited in the Entrance Hall. “Who’d want to frighten all the squibs and muggleborns out of Hogwarts?”

“I have a guess,” Tracey said darkly. “Draco. He’s really been going at it. No one else in Slytherin was that enthusiastic. You’ve got to admit it’s suspicious, right?”

“Really?” Blaise said sceptically. “You think he could do that? Besides, if Draco was the Heir of Slytherin, wouldn’t he be a bit more low-key about it instead of screaming from the rooftops about how much he hates muggleborns?”

“Well, since when has Draco been subtle?” Harry said. “Either way, it won’t hurt to look into it, I guess.”

“I suppose,” Hermione said with a frown. “Maybe you two could keep an eye out? See if he mentions it in the common room.”

“He may not be subtle, but he’s not stupid, either,” Blaise said. “I don’t think he’d openly say in the common room if he was the Heir, would he?”

“I bet he’d let his friends in on it, though,” Neville said thoughtfully. “If only there was a way we could find out what Crabbe, Goyle and Ollie know.”

“There might be a way,” said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice. “Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We’d be breaking about fifty school rules.” 

“Are you planning on telling us what it is?” Blaise asked, rolling his eyes.

“Polyjuice Potion,” Hermione said, her eyes glittering. “It transforms you so that you look like someone else. That way, someone can impersonate them and get all the information we need.”

“Isn’t that really dangerous?” Neville asked nervously. “What if it went wrong?”

“Well, hopefully it shouldn’t,” Hermione said, waving his concerns aside. That didn’t exactly inspire Harry with confidence. “But the real problem is getting the recipe. The book it comes from is in the Restricted Section. You need a teacher's signature to get in there, and they’d ask lots of difficult questions…”

“I might have another idea,” Tracey said suddenly, “so we can impersonate someone without having to go through all that trouble.”

She slowly turned to Harry, a mischievous smile on her face. “Ollie’s close to Draco, right? Don’t we have someone right here who looks exactly like him?”

“He’d never believe that!” Harry protested. “He and I don’t look that alike!”

“No offence, mate, but you’re identical twins ,” Blaise said. “If you just get his mannerisms down, Draco won’t know the difference! People get you mixed up all the time.”

“Have you forgotten about the massive scar on my forehead?” he demanded, lifting up his fringe to show them. “Bit obvious?”

“Oh, we can get rid of that easily,” Hermione said breezily. “Just get a bit of makeup, cover it up and boom, you’re Ollie.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said doubtfully. “It just seems so risky…”

“How about you just think about it?” Tracey said. “It could be our only option.”

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “But don’t bank on it.”

In addition to the whole Heir of Slytherin business, Harry had a lot to worry about. Namely, the Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch match. Harry had been training hard all term, trying to prove he deserved his place on the team. This was his first real match. He’d substituted for Higgs last year, but this felt different. He was the official Seeker now, and Harry wanted to prove himself.

About a week before the match, a long, oddly shaped package was delivered to the Slytherin table.

“I think I know what that is,” Tracey said, a gleam in her eye.

“I’m not opening it here,” Harry said in a low voice. “Ollie and Draco are already giving me the evils.”

Surely enough, Draco was scowling at Harry, and Ollie looked like he wanted to punch someone.

“I’m nearly done eating, anyway,” Harry said. “I’ll run down to the dormitory and open it before lessons.”

“I’ll come,” Tracey said. “I really want to see this!”

“Same,” Blaise said, shoving a slice of toast into his mouth.

They all made their way down to the Slytherin dorms, where Harry eagerly ripped into the package. He gasped when he saw what was underneath the brown paper.

“A Nimbus 2001!” he said, admiring the shiny new broom. “Dad did say he’d get me a broom for making the team, but I didn’t think I’d get one this nice!”

Harry picked up the small note that had come with the broom.

Good luck with the match!

As much as it pains us to say it, you need a good broom to squash Gryffindor. We’ll be rooting for you from the stands next week!

Sirius and Dad

“Draco is gonna be so angry !” Blaise said, grinning.

“I’m hiding this in our hidden room,” Harry said. “In case Draco’s anger turns violent.”

It wasn’t an unfair assumption to make. Draco and Harry had entered into something of a curse war ever since he’d ratted Harry out to Snape, and Harry was pretty sure Draco would do anything to continue it, no matter how cruel.

Flint was just as pleased as Harry was when he saw the broom.

“You’d better train hard this week to get used to that thing, Potter,” he grunted. “This match is a big one.”

Harry did, in fact, train hard. As usual, Flint was working them to the bone for the upcoming match. He and Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, had been engaged in a bitter rivalry for years and Flint couldn’t stand the idea of losing to him.

Tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin were also sky-high, as usual. Harry, Tracey and Blaise weren’t able to talk to Neville and Hermione in public without getting called traitors. Hermione and Neville were getting treated similarly by the other Gryffindors, too. 

In a way, Harry was almost relieved when the match had arrived. Even though he was a raw bundle of nerves, it meant that everything could go back to normal after.

Marcus gave his usual start-of-match speech.

“Gryffindor may be good, but we’re better, lads!” he said. “Just get the Quaffle into the hoops, and get a Bludger into Oliver Wood’s fat head!”

“Will do!” they all choroused.

“Now let's show Gryffindor what we snakes are made of!” Flint shouted, “And let’s WIN!”

“LET’S WIN!”

They all ran onto the pitch, brooms in hand, to roaring cheers and hisses. Harry noticed Katie Bell was playing Seeker this year. 

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and all fourteen players kicked off the grass and into the sky. Harry circled the pitch, scanning for the Snitch, but took a quick moment to glance through the stands for anyone he knew. Harry couldn’t make out any of his friends in the masses of house colours, but his heart did a funny leap when he spotted his family. Sirius, James, Lily and Jasmine were all sitting in the guest stands in green and silver, cheering him on. He smiled and started looking even more closely for the Snitch. He wanted to make them proud.

It was immediately clear to Harry that this game was going to be a lot more aggressive than the previous one he’d played against Ravenclaw. The Beaters, in particular, were playing like they wanted to kill. He got on reasonably well with Fred and George, but it was clear that all of that friendship was forgotten on the pitch. There were a few times where the Bludgers nearly knocked him right off his broom, and Harry knew he’d be bruised and aching the next day. It was all so out of control that at one point, a Bludger nearly flew into the Slytherin stands.

Madam Hooch, of course, was not impressed. She called a time out to lecture all the Beaters on proper conduct before the game was allowed to continue.

As it went on, the stakes were heightening. The Gryffindor Chasers were like a well-oiled machine; they almost seemed to be able to read each other's minds. Harry’s team weren’t terrible, but by thirty minutes in, they were down fifty points. Worst of all, it had started to pour, reducing the visibility even more.

“Get a move on, Potter!” Flint shouted. “We need to end this before it gets any worse!”

“Will do!” Harry shouted, wiping the raindrops from his goggles. Moments later, he noticed a small glint at the bottom of the Slytherin stands and dove. The cheers of the crows dulled to a roar as he zoomed past Bell…he heard a distant crash, but kept his focus…

He grabbed the Snitch, raising it into the air victoriously. The whole crowd booed and cheered, but there were also mysterious mumbles of concern.

“Slytherin wins, 190-90,” Lee Jordan announced glumly. Harry flew up, noticing a crowd had gathered in the Slytherin stands. Parts of the wooden barrier had been smashed, and someone was lying unconscious on the ground.

Upon closer inspection, it was Ollie. He was white as a ghost, and his arm was bent at a funny angle. Lockhart, who was standing nearby, jabbed it with his wand, and it went oddly limp.

Harry flew right up to the front where Tracey and Blaise were straining to get a view.

“What happened?” he shouted.

“A Bludger flew into him!” Tracey shouted back.

Draco was also yelling; however, it was directed at Lockhart.

“You idiot!” he shouted, helping a dazed-looking Ollie up. “What have you done to him?”

“Ah, well,” Lockhart said, scratching the back of his neck and casting a nervous glance around. “The point is, his bones are no longer - broken, exactly. Let’s send him along to Madam Pomfrey so she can, er, tidy him up a bit.”

Snape, who had at last made his way over, conjured up a stretcher and started levitating Ollie out of the stands. He stopped to cast a venomous look at Lockhart, who visibly wilted.

“I’ll meet you back down there!” Harry shouted. 

He went to where the rest of the Slytherin team were huddled, and received a lot of claps on the back and was heartily cheered on. As much as he wanted to bask in the moment, Harry quickly slipped away. Sirius and Jasmine were standing together outside with grins on their faces.

“That was amazing!” Jasmine squealed, running straight into Harry and almost knocking him over. 

“Be careful!” he laughed. “I’m all muddy!”

“Like I care!”

“That was some incredible flying, really,” Sirius said. He was grinning wildly.

“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling at both of them. “Where’s Mum and Dad?”

Sirius’ grin dimmed slightly. “They’ve run up to the Hospital Wing to check on Ollie.”

“I didn’t know you could vanish someone's bones!” Jasmine said, a strange look of horror and fascination mixing on her face.

“How about we head up and see them?” Sirius suggested. “Your dad’s so excited for you. I think he misses his flying days, and he’s really happy you’re following in his footsteps.”

“Okay,” Harry said, feeling a little pang of disappointment. He knew it was ridiculous, but it felt like Ollie had stolen the attention away from him, as usual. It wasn’t his fault that a Bludger had flown into him, but Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bitter.

He followed Sirius up to the Hospital Wing, watching with amusement as Jasmine took in the castle. She seemed so excited that she was practically vibrating.

“Can’t you please show me around?” she begged. “I want to see the whole castle. I’m so excited for next year!”

“But wouldn’t that spoil the surprise a bit?” Harry said. “It’s even better when you get to explore it with all your friends in first year.”

“I guess,” Jasmine grumbled. They had just reached the Hospital Wing. 

Sirius pushed the door open, and they saw Madam Pomfrey handing Ollie a small goblet. He took a sip, coughing and spluttering as he choked down whatever was inside it. Lily rubbed his back as he drank it down.

“You’ll be spending the night,” Madam Pomfrey said sternly. “Honestly, some of the Professors in this school…”

James finally noticed Harry and his face lit up.

“Harry!” he said, running up to the three of them. “I’m so proud of you. That was an amazing match!”

Thanks,” Harry said, looking at the ground bashfully.

“That dive was incredible,” James gushed. “You could play for England with coordination like that, it was something to behold!”

“It was really impressive, Harry,” Lily said from Ollie’s bedside. Ollie looked thoroughly unimpressed, and a little jealous.

“You’ve got to do that again for me this summer,” James added. “I’ve been flying for years, but you could still teach me a few tricks!”

“Right, unless you’re here for Oliver, get out!” Madam Pomfrey ordered. “If he’s going to regrow an arm full of bones overnight, he needs his rest.”

“Right, of course,” Sirius said, giving Harry a sheepish look.

“Hey Harry, can I have a quick private word with you before you go?” James asked in a low voice. Harry instantly knew it was probably about the fight.

“Sure,” Harry said wearily. Sirius sent him a questioning look, but Harry nodded resolutely. They needed to have this conversation.

James took him behind the curtains surrounding a hospital bed and waved his wand. All the noise coming from outside was instantly muffled. 

“I know it won’t fix things but I just wanted to say how sorry I am again,” James said quietly. “I shouldn’t have left you at the Dursleys. If there’s a single thing I can do to make it up to you, I would do it in a heartbeat. Anything .”

“Thanks,” Harry said, not meeting his eyes. He stared at the white curtains, not sure how to put his thoughts into words.

“If I say something, you won’t get defensive, right?” Harry said hesitantly.

“Of course not,” James said solemnly.

“You’re always apologising,” Harry said, “But Mum never is. She says something, I get upset, then she goes all weird and we never talk about it again. Is she actually sorry?”

“She is!” James said quickly. “Believe me, she is. Just…”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Your mother’s having a harder time…reconciling everything she’s done. She’s always been a very proud woman, and she finds it difficult to apologise.

“I’m not defending her!” he added quickly. “Just explaining. Even if she doesn’t exactly say it, I promise she is sorry. We’ve spoken a lot about everything, and she feels terrible about what she’s done, but she doesn’t know how to approach you. Do you want me to have a word with her?”

“No,” Harry said. “It’s between her and me, you don’t need to get involved.”

Harry also wanted her to come to him organically so they could talk about everything. He didn’t want Lily to apologise because his dad forced her into it. 

“Alright, then,” James said. “But if you do ever want me to intervene with anything, just let me know, alright?”

“Okay,” Harry said.

“Anything else?” James asked. “Ollie treating you alright? I saw he was giving you dirty looks earlier.”

“Yeah he’s…fine,” Harry said. Ollie had been his usual grumpy self, but he’d generally left Harry alone.

“And you’d tell me if he wasn’t?” James asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Harry said, even though he wasn’t sure if he would.

“Great then. Are you headed off to a victory party?"

“Probably,” Harry said.

“I’ll leave you to that, then.” James waved his wand, causing the Muffling Charm to lose effect and the curtains to fly open. Harry started walking back to where Sirius and Jasmine were standing.

“Bye, Harry!” Lily said, giving him a wave.

“See you at Christmas!” James said.

Jasmine gave him one last hug before they walked out of the Hospital Wing. 

“Everything alright?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “He was just apologising again.”

“Ah.”

“I wish Mum tried as hard as he did,” Harry said quietly.

Sirius reached over and rustled his hair. “I wish that too, kiddo.”

After that, Sirius and Harry spent most of the walk back discussing the match and going over every tiny detail. Finally, they reached the Entrance Hall and had to part ways.

Sirius went in for one last hug. “I’m really proud of you, Harry. Keep up the good work, yeah?”

“I will,” Harry said, feeling a warm glow build in his chest. “See you at Christmas!”

As he walked away to the Slytherin dorms, Harry felt like he was walking on air. It had turned out to be a pretty great day.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Harry and Tracey made their way down to breakfast. Blaise, who had never been much of a morning person, opted to sleep in. He wasn’t the only one; the victory party had raged long into the night, and the majority of the older years were still in bed, leaving the Slytherin table half-empty. 

Tracey was reading through an abandoned copy of The Daily Prophet with mild interest while Harry ate. 

“Apparently Dolohov just died in Azkaban,” she said. “He was one of You-Know-Who’s supporters, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Harry said between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs. “It’s been over a decade since he was put in there. There’s only so long you can stand the Dementors, I guess.”

They were distracted, however, by Dumbledore standing up from the staff table and clapping his hands. 

“I have an announcement to make!” he said. The whole of the Great Hall fell silent.

“There has been another attack,” he said gravely. Whispers broke out, which were quickly silenced by a stern look from the Headmaster.

“Colin Creevey has been Petrified,” Dumbledore said. Gasps broke out once again; mainly from the Gryffindor table. “Rest assured, a Mandrake Draught is being worked on as we speak. However, if any of you need to talk to someone, your Heads of Houses’ doors are open.”

He sat down, and rumours broke out amongst the students once again.

“That poor kid,” Harry said. He looked over at the subdued Gryffindor table. Ginny Weasley had tears streaming down her face, and Percy was trying to comfort her.

“I’m not surprised,” Draco said to Vince. “That whiny little mudblood had it coming.”

Harry’s plate cracked.

“Harry!” Tracey hissed as people started looking their way. “Take a deep breath, you don't want people to see!”

Harry took a shuddering breath, trying to calm his rage.

Revenge is best served cold , he reminded himself.

Therefore, as Draco left the hall a few minutes later, Harry sent a sneaky hex his way that tied his shoelaces together. It did make him feel a little better to see Draco’s bloody nose, coupled with the laughter of the entire Great Hall, but only marginally so.

“You can’t tell me you don’t think it’s suspicious that Colin Creevey got Petrified,” Tracey said in a low voice. “The boy Draco got in a fight with the other month?”

“You may have a point,” Harry said. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“So, are you open to my plan now?” Tracey asked.

Harry groaned. “I don’t see another option. Also, Hermione is staring daggers at us right now. We probably need to go see her.”

Tracey turned around to where Hermione was staring at them across the hall. She started waving her arms wildly.

“Good point. Let’s go.”

They made their way out into the Entrance Hall.

“Harry’s agreed to the Malfoy plan,” Tracey said.

“Agreed is a strong word,” Harry grumbled. He still felt like the whole thing was destined to go horribly wrong.

“Brilliant!” Hermione beamed. “Where’s Blaise?”

“Sleeping,” Harry said.

“One of you should probably go get him,” Hermione said. “We need all you Slytherins for tips so this plan will work.”

“Dibs not me,” Tracey said.

Harry groaned. “Don’t make me do it! Your entire plan hinges on me, so you owe me!”

Blaise was a nightmare to wake up in the mornings. One time, he’d thrown a shoe at Harry.

“He’s in your dorm,” Tracey countered. “You do it.”

“Fine. See you in the classroom.”

Harry made his way down to the dorm to grab Blaise, who took quite a while to be woken up. After he eventually roused him, they went through the Slytherin common room, where all the students were gathered around the bulletin board. Curious, Harry went to take a peek.

It was an announcement for a Duelling Club.

“First meeting on Saturday!” Harry said to Blaise as they left the common room. “We should go to that, it sounds useful.”

“I guess,” Blaise mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

After a quick stop at the Great Hall to grab Blaise some food, they made their way up to the hideout where Neville, Tracey and Hermione were already in discussion over a scrap of parchment.

“There you two are!” Hermione said.

“We’ve been making notes about Ollie and Draco,” Neville said, gesturing to the paper. “Their schedules, Ollie’s mannerisms, anything.”

“Well, Ollie sort of…juts his chin out more than Harry,” Blaise suggested. “Does that count?”

“Definitely,” Hermione said, scribbling it down.

“His tie is looser, too,” Tracey added.

They spent the rest of the morning writing down different things and forcing Harry to replicate them. Tracey, who was very perceptive of body language, kept correcting Harry on his posture, the way he talked and even how much his hair stuck up. By the end of the first practice, Harry didn’t feel very confident. If there were so many subtle differences between him and Ollie, how would he ever manage to replicate him?

“It’s all about confidence,” Tracey assured him when he expressed these worries. “If you just walk into the common room and sit down next to Malfoy, he won’t be suspicious. Just do that, and it’ll all be fine.”

As the week carried on, though, Harry started to see how the plan could possibly work. He, Tracey and Blaise spent a lot of time sitting in the common room, just watching Ollie and Draco and the ways they interacted with each other. By the time Saturday had arrived, they had started to formulate an idea of when they would do it. On one of the nights where Ollie went down to visit Hagrid, Hermione would stun him so Harry could safely talk to Draco without being interrupted. They just had to wait for Hermione to master the Stunning Spell so that the plan could go ahead.

Before that happened, however, the first Duelling Club meeting came about. At 8 o’clock on Saturday evening, Harry and his friends made their way into the Great Hall amongst all the chattering students. The long house tables had been folded up against the wall and replaced with a golden stage.

“I wonder who’ll be teaching us?” said Neville as they edged their way closer to the stage.

“I hope it’s Flitwick,” Hermione said. “He’s a world-class duelling champion, I bet he could teach us some great things.”

Their questions were answered when Professor Lockhart flounced his way into the stage. Harry and Tracey shared an exasperated look; they got quite enough of him in class.

“Gather round, gather round!” Lockhart called. “Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!”

“Maybe we should just leave,” Tracey muttered. “He’s bloody useless.”

“He could teach us something useful!” Blaise protested. “You’ve read his books, he’s done some impressive stuff. Just give him a chance!”

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape!” Lockhart gestured Snape onto the stage, whose lip curled into a sneer.

“Never mind,” Tracey said, grinning at Harry. “This’ll be good.”

Lockhart and Snape both bowed to each other and walked to the opposite ends of the stage. They raised their wands.

“One - two - three -”

“Expelliarmus!” Snape shouted. There was a flash of red light that sent Lockhart flying into the opposite wall. Harry, Tracey and Neville cheered. Hermione and Blaise gave them irritated looks.

“Well, there you have it!” Lockhart said. He was frantically patting down his voluminous golden curls, which had fallen out of place. “That was a Disarming Charm, excellent idea Professor Snape. Of course, it would have been easy for me to stop - just wanted to give the students a demonstration, of course - “

Harry had to stifle his giggles at the venomous expressions on Snape’s face. If looks could kill, Harry was certain Lockhart would wither away on the spot.

“Enough demonstrating!” Lockhart said, clapping his hands. “I’m going to split you all up into pairs now, and you can practice on each other.”

Harry and his friends automatically moved closer together, but Lockhart didn’t seem to care. To Harry’s disgust, he was paired with Draco.

“This’ll be fun, Potter,” he sneered.

“Oh it will be,” Harry said, cracking his knuckles. This would be the perfect time to get out all his pent up anger.

“Wands at the ready!” Lockhart shouted. “Now, I only want you to disarm! When I count to three, I want you to cast at your opponents - one - two -”

“Rictusempra!” Harry shouted. He didn’t trust Draco not to cast early, and he was right. Just before Draco doubled over with laughter, Harry experienced an unpleasant sensation - it felt like he was being hit over the head with a saucepan. He groaned and rubbed his temples.

“I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted. It appeared Harry and Draco hadn’t been the only ones to disobey instructions. Tracey, who was clearly still feeling a bit annoyed over the Lockhart debacle, had hit Blaise with a Jelly-Legs jinx. Harry looked around to check on his other friends, but Draco, who was clearly out for blood, seized the opportunity.

“Tangellatera!” he gasped. Harry felt his legs start to jerk uncontrollably and yelped with fear.

“Finite incantatem!” Snape shouted. All the chaos in the hall came to a stop. Harry’s legs stilled, Blaise stopped wobbling. 

“Deary me,” Lockhart said as he picked his way through the crowd of students. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to teach you to block unfriendly spells…Potter, Weasley, would you mind helping me demonstrate?”

Harry jerked his head around for a second before he realised Lockhart was talking to Ollie. His hair was slightly singed from whoever he’d been duelling. He gave Lockhart a look that was equal parts disgust and resignation.

“Bad idea, Professor,” Snape said with a sneer. “Weasley’s wand is…compromised. We wouldn’t want to do any damage to young Mr Potter, would we?”

“Of course, of course!” Lockhart said quickly. “Who do you suggest?”

“How about the other Potter?” Snape suggested. Harry froze.

“Excellent idea!” Lockhart beamed at Harry. He felt rather like he was staring into the open jaws of a shark. “Brother on brother, it should be a wonderful demonstration.”

“Indeed.” Snape’s lip curled up into a grin.

Lockhart escorted Ollie onto the stage, while Snape took Harry to the other side.

“Professor, why are you doing this?” Harry asked nervously.

“I wouldn’t have recommended you unless I had full faith in you, Potter,” Snape assured him. “Now, I have a handy trick for you. If you really need to distract him, cast serpensortia. The wand motion looks like this.”

He demonstrated a complex serpentine movement.

“It summons a snake,” he explained. “That never fails to distract.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Harry asked nervously. 

“I’m here, so it won’t be,” Snape said. Harry noticed that wasn’t an explicit no .

Lockhart was now standing up from where he’d been talking with Ollie.

“Let us begin! Three - two - one - go!”

“Rictusempra!” Harry’s spell missed Ollie by inches as he ducked out of the way.

“Tangellatera!” Ollie’s spell hit Harry, causing his legs to start that jerking movement again,

“Expelliarmus!” Harry gasped. He barely missed, but the time it took for Ollie to move out of the way allowed Harry to cast a quick Finite Incantatem, giving him back control of his legs.

Lockhart was shouting at them to stop, but Harry tuned him out. He and Ollie were in battle mode; he wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

Still, as the duel raged on, Harry had to admit it - Ollie was good . He was an expert at dodging and ducking, even if he didn’t tend to fight offensively. Harry only managed to land one curse, which Ollie quickly countered. Harry also realised that in this situation, he couldn’t use his wandless magic. He didn’t want to use it for a practice duel; that would ruin the element of surprise it gave him in real dangerous situations. Harry was solidly on the back foot.

Still, he refused to lose to his brother. For one last-ditch attempt, he decided to follow Snape’s advice.

“Serpentsortia!” Harry shouted. A large, jade-green serpent wove its way out of the tip of Harry’s wand. It shot down the stage towards the frozen Ollie, ignorant to the screams of the other students, and raised its head as if to strike.

“Don’t worry Potter, I’ll get rid of it,” Snape said with a smirk, raising his wand.

“Allow me!” Lockhart shouted. He stepped forward, brandishing his wand and cast a spell that blasted the snake into the air. It fell to the floor with a loud smack, and hissed angrily. Harry realised now that the snake was solidly out of his control. 

It slithered up to Justin Finch-Fletchley with its fangs exposed, ready to strike.

“Stop!” Harry shouted. Perhaps, since he’d conjured the snake, it would listen to him. “Leave him alone!”

Miraculously, it seemed to work. The snake curled up on the floor, looking dazed. He looked up and saw Justin staring at him, chalk-white.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” he shouted. Justin turned on his heel and stormed out of the Great Hall.

The snake vanished in a puff of black smoke. Harry felt a hand grip his shoulder.

“With me, Potter,” Snape hissed in his ear. He steered Harry out of the Hall, where students were beginning to whisper and point. He briskly led him downstairs to the dungeons, in complete silence, until they reached Snape’s office. He slammed the door and gestured for Harry to sit.

“I wasn’t aware that you’re a Parselmouth, Potter,” Snape said smoothly. His face was so carefully controlled that Harry couldn’t tell what the man was thinking.

“A what?” he asked.

“A Parselmouth. Speaking to snakes?”

“Oh! That,” Harry was relieved; he thought he was in trouble for conjuring the snake. “I’ve always been able to do that. Isn’t it just a wizard thing?”

Snape gave him a troubled look. “No, it’s not a ‘wizard thing’ as you call it. Parseltongue is an exceedingly rare gift.”

“I didn’t even realise I was doing that,” Harry said nervously. “I just told it to stop in plain English.”

“To the rest of us, it just sounded like hissing,” Snape said. 

“Oh.”

“Does anyone in your family speak it?” Snape pressed. “Your father, perhaps?”

“I don’t think so,” Harry said, anxiously fidgeting with his hands. “Am I in trouble? I just told the snake to stop.”

Snape sighed, and rubbed his temples. “No, you’re not in trouble, just - be careful, okay, Potter? Speaking to snakes gives some people…ideas.”

“Oh…okay,” Harry said. Something about that felt quite foreboding.

“You’re free to go, if you wish,” Snape said. “Your friends are probably wondering where I’ve dragged you off to.”

“Alright,” Harry got up and went to the door. “Goodbye, sir.”

He opened it up to reveal Tracey, Blaise, Hermione and Neville all staring at him with worried expressions.

“Of course,” Snape said dryly. “You four look after him!”

“Will do, sir,” Blaise said as Harry shut the office door.

“What’s wrong?” Harry demanded. “Why is everyone acting so weirdly? Why do you need to look out for me?”

“You’re a Parselmouth?” Hermione hissed. They all started dragging Harry in the direction of their hideout.

“Apparently,” he said. “Didn’t realise that until today.”

They all gave him looks mixed with horror and fascination. 

“Anyways, can you please explain what on earth is going on? Why did Justin freak out like that?” 

“It didn’t look good,” Neville said nervously. “It looked like you were…egging the snake on or something.”

“But I wasn’t!” Harry said indignantly. “You guys believe me, right?”

“Of course!” Blaise said quickly. “But - well -”

“It didn’t look that way, Harry,” Tracey said bluntly. “People are saying things. That you were setting the snake on Ollie and Justin.”

“Snape told me to!” Harry protested.

“Still…” Hermione said. “One of the most well-known Parselmouths was Salazar Slytherin. And, with all the Heir of Slytherin stuff going around…”

“Oh come on!” Harry said. “They think I’m the Heir of Slytherin? Seriously ?”

“You know what people are like,” Blaise said. “They jump to conclusions.”

Harry huffed. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

He stormed off, not waiting for a response. He could faintly hear the sound of Tracey and Blaises’ shoes on the cobblestone behind him, but didn’t look back. He just wanted to be alone.

Unfortunately, the whole of Slytherin had other ideas. 

As Harry walked into the common room, he was met with a mixture of cheers and jeers.

“Welcome, Heir of Slytherin!”

“That was a wicked spell!”

“The look on that stupid Hufflepuff’s face! I wish someone would’ve taken a picture!”

“All of you, leave me alone!” Harry shouted. He stormed off to the dorm, not without catching a glimpse of Ollie and Draco. They were glaring at him with a mixture of fear and fury.

Harry slammed the door shut behind him so hard that it rattled. He kicked the frame of his bedpost, which he immediately regretted as he was overcome by a stabbing pain in his toe. Furious, Harry threw himself onto his bed, emotions raging. He faintly heard a crack. Harry turned his head and saw a web of breaks steadily spreading across the window.

“Shit!” Harry yelped. “Reparo!”

 The spell marginally slowed the breakage, but the cracks continued to grow. Harry scrambled to his feet.

“Reparo!” Blaise had come into the dorm. Luckily, his spell stopped the window from breaking any further. One last wave of Blaise’s wand fixed the cracks completely. 

“Thanks,” Harry sighed. 

“It’ll all be okay,” Blaise said. “We’re here for you.”

Still, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that it would not all be okay. In fact, Harry was quite sure that this was only the beginning of his troubles.

Chapter Text

Harry spent the whole night tossing and turning, until weak dawn light began filtering through the lake. He didn’t bother waking Blaise - Harry really didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. Since none of his friends would be awake yet, Harry decided he’d go straight to the hideout. 

The Slytherin common room was mostly deserted when Harry woke up, to his relief, so he didn’t run into anyone. He was less lucky in the corridors, however. He couldn't even manage the short journey to the hideout without someone casting a Leg-Locking Jinx at him before darting out of sight. It took the humiliated Harry a few tries before he could unlock them and hobble his way back up to the hideout. No one else was in there so he sat next to a window, staring into the flurries of snow that had begun to fall. 

Neville found him like that half an hour later. He crouched down next to Harry, and they sat there in silence. Harry could tell Neville didn't really know what to say, and didn't particularly feel like talking himself.

"Give me an honest answer. How bad is it for me?" Harry asked wearily, breaking the silence.

Neville hesitated for a moment. "Not great."

Harry groaned and buried his face in his knees.

"Hermione's with Blaise and Tracey," he said gently. "They're grabbing you some breakfast. They thought that you wouldn't exactly want to go down to the Great Hall since…well…"

"I set a snake on the Boy-Who-Lived and a Hufflepuff," Harry said bluntly. “And now everybody hates me.”

"They don’t hate you!” Neville protested. “They just think you’re the Heir of Slytherin. They’re just…scared of you.”

Harry groaned again.

"I'm not making this better, am I?" Neville said despondently.

"It can't be made better," Harry said, resting his head against the windowpane. “Things are terrible and everyone thinks I’m evil.”

"Not everyone ."

Harry jerked his head up. It was Blaise, Tracey and Hermione. 

“Everyone else in the school does, though,” Harry said despondently. 

"With your muggleborn mother?" Tracey snorted. "Please."

"Anyone with a brain knows you're not the Heir of Slytherin," Hermione said. "Even people in Gryffindor. Fred and George have already been threatening people in the common room for being mean about you."

"Really?" Harry felt a glimmer of hope.

"Really," she said firmly. "Now, here's some toast we brought you. Eat up."

Despite the support from his friends, the next few days were not at all easy for Harry. Almost every single resident of Hogwarts seemed to have it out for him. Most students restrained themselves to just whispering and pointing, but a vocal minority had taken to hexing Harry whenever he had his back turned. Harry's friends had taken to forming a protective shield around him wherever he went, which he appreciated. 

The Slytherin common room wasn't much better. Even though they weren’t hexing him, somehow being revered for cleansing the school of muggleborns was worse.

Wednesday morning, however, was the worst. It was the morning after Astronomy, where they didn’t have lessons so they could catch up on sleep. Harry, however, had had a restless night. It was full of hissing snakes and people pointing and shouting at him. He woke up early and gave up on sleep, deciding to go for a walk. Most of the other students were in lessons, so he thought he wouldn’t be interrupted. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t that lucky.

Harry had just gotten to the library when he heard a snicker from behind him. He turned around to see who it was, but couldn’t make it in time.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Someone shouted. Harry felt his body freeze and lock up. He fell forwards, landing flat on his face. Harry could feel a hot liquid trickling down his face - his nose was bleeding. 

“That’s what you get, Heir of Slytherin!” Someone jeered. Harry heard footsteps running away on the cobblestone.

Harry lay there, listening to the wind rattling the windowpanes and felt something else running down his face; tears. 

Maybe I should just leave, he thought. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

He sat there, feeling helpless, waiting for someone to find him. He just hoped it was before the rest of the students left their lessons; that would be the only way the situation could get more humiliating.

“Harry?” he recognised Tracey’s voice from behind him.

Finite incantatem,” Harry felt his arms and legs unlock and breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled himself up from the floor and slumped against the wall. Tracey’s eyes widened as she saw his face.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“Someone cast Petrificus Totalus. I smashed my nose on the ground,” Harry said in a monotone voice.

“One more person to add to my hit list,” she growled. “Did you see who did it?”

“No. They hit me from behind.”

“I’m sorry Harry,” Tracey said, rubbing his shoulder. “Let’s get you to the Hospital Wing so Madam Pomfrey can patch you up.”

She and Harry started walking along the corridor in the direction of the Hospital Wing. They turned the corner into a dark, drafty corridor, and Harry saw Tracey freeze. She was staring at something on the ground, white-faced.

It was Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was stiff on the ground, a cold look of shock frozen onto his face. Next to him was Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. His form had turned ashen and hazy, and his head was hanging half off his neck.

“We need to get out of here,” Tracey whispered. “Harry, we can’t be found here.”

“But shouldn’t we help them?”

“Think about it, Harry!” she hissed. “We were there when Mrs Norris was attacked!”

“Oh,” Harry felt his heart speed up. “Lets-”

A door banged open. It was Peeves.

“Why, it’s Potty and his wee girlfriend!” he cackled, bouncing along the corridor. “What’s he-”

Peeves froze, laying eyes on the Petrified Justin and Nick.

“ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”

The doors along the corridor banged open, and dozens of students and teachers flooded out to see what was going on. Harry found himself pinned to the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. Things were about to get a lot worse for him.

“Caught in the act!” Ernie MacMillan shouted.

After the teachers had calmed the chaos and figured out what to do with Justin and Nearly-Headless Nick, Professor McGonagall approached Harry and Tracey.

“You two, come with me,” she said curtly.

“Professor, I didn’t do it!”

“That is not my decision to make,” she said. “This is out of my hands.”

She walked briskly down the corridor, Harry and Tracey half-jogging to keep up. They turned a corner and stopped next to an ugly stone gargoyle. 

“Lemon drop!” she said. The gargoyle sprang out of the way and the wall behind it split in two, revealing a revolving spiral staircase. They all stepped onto it and started spinning upwards, until they reached an oak door with a brass knocker.

McGonagall rapped smartly on the door, which opened silently. McGonagall ushered them inside. 

“Wait here,” she ordered, turning on her heel and leaving the office. 

Despite his hammering heart, Harry surveyed the office with fascination. It was full of whirring, silvery instruments and sleeping portraits. He even saw the Sorting Hat sitting on one shelf.

“Hey, look at that,” Tracey said. She was pointing to a decrepit-looking bird that was sitting on a golden perch. Harry and the bird made eye contact, then it burst into flames.

Harry and Tracey both let out a yelp of shock and backed away from the plume of fire.

“Are we just destined to have bad things happen around us?” she hissed as the flames died into a pile of ashes.

The office door opened, and Professor Dumbledore walked in. He smiled at them.

“No, Tracey, you two aren’t,” he said. In Harry’s opinion, he was acting very calm for a man whose bird had just burst into flame.

“That’s Fawkes, my phoenix,” Dumbledore explained. “Phoenixes burst into flame when it’s time for them to die, and are reborn from the ashes. Look closely…you can see it…”

A tiny, newborn bird was burrowing out of the pile of ashes. It looked quite ugly.

“He’s normally quite beautiful,” Dumbledore said. It was as if he’d read Harry’s mind. “It’s a shame you had to see him on a burning day…”

Harry suddenly remembered why they were in his office.

“Professor - we didn’t attack those people, I swear-”

“Harry couldn’t have!” Tracey added. “I saw him, we walked there together-”

Dumbledore held his hand up for silence.

“I do not think the two of you attacked those people,” he said. 

Dumbledore fixed his stare onto Harry, in particular. His icy blue eyes were so piercing, and Harry felt as if the Headmaster was trying to read his mind.

“I just wanted to know,” he said slowly, “if there’s anything the two of you wished to tell me.”

Harry got the sense that Dumbledore was asking him in particular. He thought about the disembodied voice, the plan to be Ollie, the students all calling him the Heir of Slytherin…

“No,” Harry said.

“Nothing,” Tracey added.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. “Very well. And Harry, what happened to your face?”

“He-”

Harry kicked Tracey under the table to stop her from talking. 

“I tripped,” he said quickly. “Hit my nose. It’s nothing too bad.”

Tracey glared at him. Harry glared back.

“Very well.” Dumbledore sighed. “I’d suggest you two pop along to the Hospital Wing, then.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Tracey hissed as they left the office. “Maybe he could put a stop to how horrible everyone’s being!”

“It’ll only make things worse,” Harry said. “Just leave it please.”

Tracey rolled her eyes and muttered something that Harry couldn’t catch. 

After Madam Pomfrey patched him up, Harry and Tracey made their way to the hideout, where they found Blaise, Neville and Hermione. They filled them in on everything that had happened with Justin and Nick.

“We really need to get a move on with this plan,” Hermione said once they’d finished.

“Yeah,” Neville added. “If it is Malfoy, we need to stop him before half the muggle-borns in the school get picked off.”

“Well when should we do it?” Harry asked.

“How about tonight?” Blaise suggested. “I overheard Ollie saying he was going to visit Hagrid this evening.”

“Hermione, have you got the stunner down?” Tracey asked.

“Yep.” she smirked, twirling her wand between her fingers. “Meet here after the rest of the classes. We’ve got an Heir of Slytherin to catch.”

That evening, Harry sat in their hideout as Tracey dabbed makeup onto his forehead while he winced uncomfortably.

“Sit still!” she scolded. “I need to do a good job of this!”

“Fine,” Harry sighed as she finished putting the foundation over his scar.

Once she was finished, Blaise stood in a corner, eyeing him critically.

“Fluff your hair up a little more…untuck your shirt a bit…perfect!” Blaise grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d definitely think you were Ollie.”

“It’s almost half-past six,” Neville said, glancing up from his watch. “Ollie’s going to set off at any minute.”

Hermione stood up and brushed down her skirt. “Let’s go.”

“Good luck guys!” Tracey said. “You’ll smash it.”

Harry and Hermione carefully made their way down from the hideout, trying not to run into someone. 

They parted ways right before the Entrance Hall.

“Good luck, Harry,” she said, anxiously fidgeting with her wand. “See you upstairs when you’re done.”

Harry made his way down to the dungeons, heart pounding out of his chest. He hid in an abandoned classroom and waited fifteen, painstaking minutes. 

Confidence. Don’t look scared, look…cocky. Harry ran his fingers through his hair one last time before he left for the common room.

He raised his chin up and said the password. Draco was sitting in the corner of the common room, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. Vince and Greg were nowhere to be seen, to his relief.

“Hey,” Harry said, as casually as possible. 

“Ollie!” Draco said, beaming. Harry didn’t know Draco could beam. “I thought you were going down to visit Hagrid.”

“He wasn’t in,” Harry said, feeling a small flash of relief. It was working so far.

They sat in silence for a moment. “Working on anything?”

“My Transfiguration essay. I already told you.” Draco frowned. “Do you want me to proofread yours? I didn’t know you’d already done it.”

“Oh…um…I haven't,” Harry said. He hoped Draco couldn’t hear his pounding heart.

“Ollie!” Draco rolled his eyes. “I know you find it difficult, but you need to get it done! You don’t want McGonagall to give you another detention, do you?”

“Haha…no…” Harry trailed off, trying to figure out how to change topics “I’ve just been a bit distracted. You know, with the attack today.”

Draco scoffed. “I can’t believe people think Harry is behind it. I mean really. Your brother? Please.”

“I know, right?” Harry said. “He’s such an idiot.”

He added the last part for good measure, hoping it was something Ollie would say. Luckily, it seemed to work. Draco grinned.

“Honestly! Even though he’s definitely not the Heir, I think they should just chuck him out. Good riddance, I say.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself. 

Draco squinted at him. “Is everything alright? You’re acting weirdly.”

“Sorry,” Harry said. “I just get…so annoyed at the thought of him, you know? He does my head in.”

“You’ve got that right,” Draco said, returning to his scribbling.

“Well who do you think it is, then?” Harry added desperately. “If it isn’t him? I don’t think it’s Tracey, either.”

Draco shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. Maybe it’s that manic house-elf you were telling me about.”

Manic house-elf? Harry was bewildered.

“I wrote to Father, you know,” Draco said with a sigh, “He won’t tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened. It was fifty years ago, so before his time, but he knows all about it.”

Draco cast a furtive look around the half-empty common room before leaning in closer. “I’m not supposed to reveal what I know, or it’ll look suspicious…all I know is that last time a Mu-muggleborn died.”

He leaned in closer, eyes glittering. “Maybe this time, it’ll be Granger.”

Harry’s hands curled into fists, and he took a deep breath.

Draco sighed. “Sorry, I know you don’t like it when I talk like that. She’s just so irritating , you know? Thinks she’s it. I can’t stand uppity mu - people like that.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I get what you mean.”

As the conversation progressed, Harry was realising with more and more certainty that it couldn’t possibly be Draco behind the attack. Everything about the way he was speaking and his body language showed he was just as in the dark as Harry was.

So this was all for nothing.

“Hey, I think I might run down to the library,” he said. “I really should get on with that, um - Transfiguration essay.”

As soon as he said it, Harry wanted to hit himself. Hadn’t he just said he didn’t want to do the essay?

“Alright,” Draco said, frowning slightly. “Do you want me to come?”

“Nah,” Harry said, standing up. “I need to focus.”

“Alright,” Draco said. “Let me know when you want me to give it a read through.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “See you soon!”

He left the common room as quickly as possible. Harry wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he swore Draco gave him a suspicious look as he left the classroom.

He hurried up to the hideout, heart still pounding. Harry couldn’t quite believe he’d gotten away with that.

He filled in all of his friends on every detail of the conversation. Once he finished, Tracey sighed.

“Sounds like he really isn’t behind it,” she said glumly. “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “That was our only theory.”

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the howling wind outside.

“Hermione, did you wake up Ollie?” Neville asked.

“No, but he’ll wake up on his own,” she said. “Just give it twenty minutes or so.”

“Sorry you had to take that risk for nothing, Harry,” Blaise said.

“It’s no problem,” Harry rubbed at the makeup on his forehead. It felt heavy and unnatural against his skin. 

“What’s next?” Tracey asked. “Any more leads?”

They all sat in silence. They had hit a dead end.

Chapter Text

Harry was quite tense over the next couple of days as he waited to see if Draco would catch onto his spying. Two days after, while Harry was lying in bed recovering from a Quidditch practice before dinner, he overheard a whispered argument.

"-just don't know why you'd lie to me about it!" Draco hissed.

"I'm not!" Ollie protested. "I didn't talk to you about any Transfiguration essay!"

Even though the hangings around his bed were shut, Harry was almost certain Ollie rolled his eyes.

"You did! Two nights ago!" Draco said irritably. "You told me you were going to the library to do it. I'm just trying to help you out, so I don't see the point of lying to me! If you don't get your act together, you're going to fail out of Hogwarts, you know."

Ollie huffed. "Look I'm not even going to bother with you, alright? You're not my bloody mum, just leave me alone!" 

The door of the dormitory slammed shut. After a bit of muttered swearing from Draco, he left too. Harry slid out of bed and to the Great Hall, heart pounding. They'd almost caught on…

Luckily, despite Harry's anxieties, Draco seemed to blame the whole thing on Ollie lying to him and didn't question it any further.

Still, Harry and his friends didn’t get any further in their investigations into the Chamber before it was time to go home for Christmas. Almost everyone had opted to go; they were too frightened of being attacked. Ever since the double attack on Justin and Nearly-Headless Nick, the whole school had been on edge. This, of course, had led to even more curses being directed at Harry. He’d even started skipping lessons to sit in the hideout, just to get some relief from the constant torment in the corridors. 

Tracey had also started to get some of the same treatment as Harry. Since she’d been with him at two of the attacks, people were saying she was Harry’s partner-in-crime, so she was being cursed just as often. Her usual sense of fun seemed to have died by the time she got on the Hogwarts Express, which hurt Harry more than any hex or curse could.

Luckily, the Christmas holidays were a peaceful reprieve from all the bullying. Harry spent many wonderful evenings decorating Sirius’ house and listening to his off-key carol singing. He’d missed that sense of family a lot.

Even spending time with the Potters wasn’t that bad; Ollie wasn’t as much of a prat without Draco there encouraging him. Still, Harry noticed there was some sort of strange tension between his parents that he couldn’t quite explain.

It was so lovely that at the end of the Christmas holidays, Harry was dreading his return to Hogwarts. All it meant was that people would be cursing him from every-which way. He’d even considered running away again, but he didn’t feel like catching pneumonia for a second time. Instead, Harry decided to go about it a different way.

“Hey, Sirius,” Harry said carefully.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“This might sound kind of weird but…are there other magic schools?”

Sirius frowned. “Yeah, a few. Why do you need to know?”

“I don’t know if I want to go back to Hogwarts.”

Sirius sat down on the sofa next to him. “Why not? Has something happened?”

“You know all the Petrifications that have been happening all term?”

“Yeah? Are you scared that you’re going to get attacked?"

“Well…not really…” Harry twisted his hands. “People think I’m behind them for some reason.”

Sirius’ face darkened. “What do you mean? Are people being mean to you?”

Yeah, a little,” Harry stared at the space between his shoes. 

Sirius sighed. “Oh, Harry.”

“I just don’t want to deal with it anymore,” he said.

A look of resolution crossed over Sirius’ face. “I’m going to have a meeting with Snape when term begins.” 

“No, you don’t have to-”

“I’m going to,” Sirius said firmly. “This sounds like bullying.”

“It’ll just make it worse,” Harry said in a small voice. 

“It won’t, Harry,” Sirius said gently. “Just give it a go, okay?”

“Fine,” Harry muttered. He got the sense that Sirius wasn’t really giving him a choice.

Still, that made Harry’s nerves about the upcoming term even worse. By the time the Wednesday mentoring session with Snape came around, which Sirius was going to attend, Harry felt like there was a rock lodged in his chest.

When he arrived at Professor Snape’s office(Slightly late, as someone had locked his legs together on the way there) he found Sirius already sitting inside. The tension was already palpable.

“Good afternoon, Mr Potter,” Snape said smoothly. Harry could detect the barely-contained annoyance in his voice. “Let’s get right to it, shall we? Black’s informed me that you’re experiencing some bullying.”

“Yeah, sort of,” Harry mumbled.

“Is this possibly connected to the bloody nose you visited Madam Pomfrey about in December?” Snape asked. Sirius stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Possibly.” How had Snape found out about that?

“Could you elaborate, please?” Snape asked.

Harry, in a quiet voice, started talking about everything he’d experienced over the last two months. Once he’d finished, Sirius put an arm around his shoulder. Snape, for his part, let out a deep sigh.

“Is this why you were skipping lessons towards the end of last term?” Snape asked.

“Snape, is this really the time-”

“Yes, Black,” Snape said, expression instantly darkening. Sirius mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘greasy git’.

“It was,” Harry said.

“Well, I’m glad you eventually came to an adult this time,” Snape said. “This will be dealt with, mark my words. If people keep bothering you, please tell me instead of missing out on learning.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. “By the way, Tracey’s been getting it a bit too.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Honestly, some people can be so stupid …”

After that meeting, Harry didn’t hear anything for a couple of days. Then, at Friday dinner, Dumbledore got to his feet and clapped his hands.

“I would like to remind all of you that bullying will not be tolerated at Hogwarts,” he said, the usual twinkle missing from his eye. “I understand that the attacks have gotten everyone’s emotions running high, but turning on each other will not help. If anyone is found cursing other students, then you will be punished severely . Please have some compassion for your peers in this very difficult time. Thank you.”

He sat back down, and whispers broke out amongst the tables. Harry stared into his plate, trying to avoid the stares of the other students. 

Still, despite Harry’s misgivings, the speech did seem to have an effect. As January marched on, Harry still got cursed every now and then, and quite a few  people had started whisperering ‘snitch’ when he was nearby, but on the whole it was getting better. There also wasn’t another attack throughout all of January, which Harry thought might have been the more helpful factor. By Valentine’s day, the Heir of Slytherin rumours seemed to have died out entirely. 

Most of the school’s mood also seemed to have risen with the lack of attacks. Lockhart, in particular, was so exuberant that he decided the perfect idea was to have a massive Valentine’s Day celebration. When Harry walked into the Great Hall, he’d thought a bomb had gone off; a lurid, neon pink bomb, featuring far too much confetti.

Tracey, of course, was steadfastly ignoring all the festivities. She was eating her porridge, including any heart-shaped confetti that had fallen in.

“Hello, Harry,” she said, as he sat down. “Lovely weather out there today, isn’t it?”

Harry looked up at the Great Hall ceiling, which reflected the overcast sky, and got a faceful of confetti.

“And yes, I did that on purpose,” Tracey said with a sly grin.

“Careful,” Harry warned. “I’m well known for my revenge. You will pay. PAY.”

“Oh, please,” Tracey rolled her eyes. “You’re too much of a hothead for revenge. The worst you’ll do is smash me into a wall.”

“And with every passing minute I am more and more tempted,” Harry muttered. “Although if you play your cards right, he’ll get it.” 

Harry jerked his head in Lockhart’s direction. He wrinkled his nose with disgust at the man’s neon pink robes.

“Don’t you think those robes bring out his rosy, crab-apple cheeks ?” Tracey said, fluttering her eyelashes. 

“I think that’s the exact colour my seven-year-old step sister had her bedroom painted when I first met her,” Harry said.

“Is Adhara your stepsister?” Tracey asked.

“It sounds more normal than my third cousin who I also live with,” Harry said, grabbing some sausages. 

Tracey shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Where on earth has Blaise gotten off to?” Harry asked, craning his head around the breakfast table. “Shouldn’t he be passionately defending Lockhart by now?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen the dwarf valentines yet.” Tracey said, gesturing to a group of surly-looking dwarves with golden wings and harps. “He’s getting one for his crush .”

“Blaise has a crush?” Harry leaned in eagerly. “Who!”

“I don’t know,” Tracey smirked. “But I’m going to figure it out, mark my words.”

Harry and half the school quickly became annoyed by the singing Valentines. Despite the best attempts of the staff, who tried to stop the whole thing, the dwarves insisted on interrupting every lesson with their songs. The only thing that made it worthwhile was when the Slytherins were walking to History of Magic and one dwarf started going after Ollie. He tried to escape, but the dwarf grabbed him by the bag, which ripped open. 

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, 

His hair is as dark as a blackboard, 

I wish he was mine, he’s really divine, 

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord 

Harry was doubled over with laughter. Ollie’s face was something to behold.

“Hey, look what I found!” Tracey whispered between giggles. “He’s got a diary!”

“No way!” Harry said, looking at the black book Tracey was holding. He sighed with disappointment when he realised it was drenched with ink. “Too bad. That could have been epic blackmail.”

“Don’t touch my stuff!” Ollie shouted. “Expelliarmus!” 

The diary flew out of Tracey’s hand.

“Do that again and you two are dead.” 

He roughly shoved Harry into a wall and stormed off down the corridor, completely ignoring an irate Percy Weasley, who was taking five points from Slytherin.

“I’m getting that diary,” Harry muttered, flexing his fingers.

“What’s the point?” Blaise asked. “It’s ruined.”

“Remind me in about a month,” Harry said. “If he starts a new one, I want in. Also, he might have diaries from before that I can nick from his room this summer.”

Harry grinned.

“Perfect revenge, right?”

Despite the fact that Harry had decided to put the issue aside, Ollie was clearly not on the same page. A week after the Valentine’s incident, when Harry went into the dorm, he was shoved roughly into a wall and a wand was jabbed into his throat. 

“What the hell have you done with it?” Ollie snarled.

“What are you on about?” Harry asked, struggling, but his brother’s grip was strong.

“My diary! You took it, where is it?”

“I didn’t take it! Get off me!” Harry dragged up some of his magic and shoved it at Ollie. He flew away, hitting the opposite wall.

“Leave me alone .” Harry stormed out, ignoring his brother’s gasps for air. The force of the impact had winded him.

He stomped all the way up to the hideout, slamming the door behind him.

“Woah,” Blaise said. “What’s happened?”

“I am going to get that flipping diary if it’s the last thing I do.”

There was something weird going on, and Harry was determined to find out what.

Still, Harry didn’t have much time to worry about the diary, since there were other important matters that required most of his attention. Namely, the choice of their third-year subjects.

“I don’t know what to choose!” Hermione wailed one evening. “These could decide our entire futures! What if I get locked out of my dream career path because I didn’t take Ancient Runes?”

“I don’t know why they make us choose so early,” Blaise muttered. He was peering closely at the sheet, as if that was going to reveal a secret about what he needed to pick.

“This is a nightmare,” Neville said weakly. He was shifting through piles and piles of letters that his relatives had sent, all suggesting different options.

“I think I’m going to do Care of Magical Creatures, but I haven’t decided on much else,” Harry sighed. “Arithmancy doesn’t sound too bad, it’s like maths isn’t it?”

“Sort of,” Hermione said.

“Well, I didn’t mind that in primary school so I guess I’ll do that,” Harry said, ticking a box.

“I’m thinking Muggle Studies and Divination,” Blaise said. “They’re two of the softer subjects, along with Care of Magical Creatures which I don’t really care for.”

“Those are easy, Blaise,” Tracey said. A thoughtful look crossed her face. “So you might be onto something…”

“It could be interesting to see muggles from a magical perspective, wouldn’t it?” Hermione said. “I’ll put that down, too.”

“Hermione, you’ve put everything down!” Blaise said, grabbing her parchment. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

She sighed. “Well maybe they’ll be able to work something out.”

“Harry, if the rest of us were doing Divination, would you join?” Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. “Why not? We don’t have enough lessons together as it is.”

So Harry decided he’d study Divination, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy.

The other big event on the horizon was the Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match. This was an important match, since it determined who Slytherin would be playing in the Quidditch cup finals.

Harry, Tracey and Blaise all ate breakfast, discussing the odds they had on the match.

“As much as it pains me to say it, my bets are on Gryffindor,” Blaise said, stirring his porridge. “They have a good team.”

“I don’t know,” Tracey said. “Have you seen Hufflepuff’s Seeker? Diggory could outdo Bell any day.”

“Maybe.” Blaise frowned, checking his watch. “Sorry guys, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you at the match.”

“Going to see your secret girlfriend?” Tracey teased. Since he’d sent that Valentine’s card a few months ago, Blaise had been disappearing off with little explanation. Even Tracey, who normally had access to good gossip by virtue of sharing a room with Pansy Parkinson couldn’t figure out who he was seeing.

Something flashed across Blaise’s face that Harry couldn’t read. “Yeah, yeah. Either way, I’ve got to go! I’ll see you soon!”

He dashed off to the Entrance Hall. 

“Should we follow him some time?” Tracey suggested. “It’s killing me that we don’t know.”

Harry shrugged. “Nah. He’ll tell us when he’s ready. Let’s go meet Neville and Hermione.”

When they got into the Entrance Hall, however, Harry froze in place. 

“ Kill this time…let me rip…tear… ”

“It’s back!” Harry hissed. “That voice, it’s back!”

He craned his neck but in the hubbub of students, he couldn’t figure out where it was moving.

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“I think I’ve just understood something!” she said quickly. “I’m going to the library!”

Without further ado, she sprinted away down the corridor.

“Should we follow her?” Harry said worriedly.

“Nah,” Neville said. “You know what Hermione’s like when she gets into research mode. She’ll work better without us there.”

“Also, if that voice is back, we need to go where all the other students are,” Tracey said in a low voice. “Harry, if we get caught at the scene of the crime again…”

“Shouldn’t I warn someone though?”

“Bad idea,” Tracey said, hurrying him out of the Entrance Hall doors. “It’ll just draw a bunch of unnecessary attention onto you, and that would make everything worse."

“Besides, how can there be an attack if everyone’s outside watching the game?” Neville pointed out. “It’s way safer for them and you.”

Harry nodded his wordless agreement.

“Let’s go down to the pitch, then,” he said. “Flint’ll be annoyed if I don’t attend the match anyway.”

As they made their way across the ground, Harry’s mind was working frantically. He was still trying to think of a way that he could warn somebody about the disembodied voice, but there was no way he could without letting someone know he was actually hearing it, which would stir up all sorts of uncomfortable questions about his sanity. 

He settled into a back corner of the Gryffindor stands with Neville and Tracey; they couldn’t be seen outwardly supporting the lions, but Harry had more devotion to them than Hufflepuff. He squinted at the teams on the ground, who were milling about like red and yellow ants. They looked so small from this high up.

They had just begun to mount their brooms when Professor McGonagall came onto the pitch with a purple megaphone.

“This match has been cancelled,” she shouted. There were boos and jeers throughout the stands, but Harry ignored them. It felt like his heart had dropped out of the bottom of his chest. Judging by the looks on Tracey and Neville’s faces, they were feeling the same way.

 “All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!” 

Harry, Neville and Tracey quickly slipped away through the back of the stands and started heading in towards the castle.

“It’s another attack, isn’t it?” Neville said in a hoarse whisper. Before Harry could muster up the energy for a response, however, he heard a throat clear behind them. It was Professor McGonagall.

“You three…I think you ought to come with me,” she said. Her face was chalk-white.

Harry felt his stomach do a somersault. How could she possibly suspect him this time? He’d been at the pitch with everyone the whole time!

He exchanged worried looks with Neville and Tracey and followed Professor McGonagall through the crowds of complaining students. Instead of taking them to an office, however, she took them up a familiar marble staircase to the Hospital Wing.

“This will be a bit of a shock,” she said in an unusually gentle voice, “so…prepare yourselves. There’s been another attack. A mass attack.”

She pushed open the doors. Harry noticed Madam Pomfrey bent over a curly-haired Ravenclaw.

Neville made a funny sort of whimpering noise. Harry looked where he was staring, and felt his heart drop.

“Hermione,” he whispered. She was lying on a hospital bed, still as a corpse and holding a mirror.

“It’s worse,” Tracey said. Her voice was unusually shaky, in a way that scared Harry. Tracey never got upset. “L-look.”

She pointed at the hospital bed opposite. Blaise was lying there, his face twisted into an expression of terror. His frozen hands were locked with another boy, who Harry vaguely recognised as Kevin Entwhistle, a boy from their year.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

“B-but he’s a pureblood!” Neville said, eyes wide. “I thought muggleborns were being targeted…”

“Kevin’s a muggleborn,” Tracey said. Harry noticed her hands were shaking terribly. “If they were together…well…”

“Collateral damage,” Harry whispered.

“They were all found near the library,” McGonagall said in a quiet voice. “I don’t suppose either of you can explain the mirror Miss Granger was holding?”

They all mutely shook their heads. Harry took a deep breath; it felt like his whole world was falling apart.

“I will escort you back to your common rooms,” she said heavily. “I need to address Gryffindor in any case.”

She took Harry and Tracey down to the dungeons first. They walked there in complete silence, stunned. Harry still couldn’t comprehend what had happened.

Professor McGonagall reached the general area of the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was and stopped walking. Before he could go in, however, Neville ran up to Harry and threw his arms around him. Harry squeezed back; he could feel his friend shaking in his grip. Another pair of arms came on top - Tracey. She normally hated hugging, but Harry knew she was making an exception.

“See you soon, Nev,” he whispered, pulling away. Neville nodded wordlessly.

“Take care, you two,” McGonagall said. Harry noticed she was wiping away a suspicious moisture in her eyes.

Harry muttered the password and slipped into the common room, where Professor Snape was already addressing Slytherin. He and Tracey sat in their usual corner, where Harry felt a small twist in his heart at Blaise’s empty seat.

“All students will return to their House common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.”

He rolled up the scroll of parchment.

“As you can see, Slytherin has now been affected by these attacks,” Snape said solemnly. “One of our own has been taken. If something is not done soon, the school may be shut down, so I urge you; please come forward if you know anything .”

He scanned the room with his beady black eyes before sweeping out. 

The Slytherin common room broke out into subdued murmurs. The previous undercurrent of excitement that they’d displayed when an attack had taken place had completely died now that one of their own was lying in the hospital wing.

Tracey let out a loud sob. Harry sat by her side and gently patted her back while a couple of the Slytherin girls came by to comfort her.

“He’ll be okay, Trace, the Mandrake Draught is almost ready!” Millicent said. “It won’t be too long before Blaise is good as new.”

“Granger, too,” Daphne added. “I’m sorry this has happened. You two must be devastated.”

“Thanks,” Tracey said, wiping her eyes, “And we are. Could me and Harry just have a moment alone?”

“Of course!” Millicent and Daphne quickly went away, leaving Harry and Tracey by themselves. She vigorously wiped her eyes one last time.

“I guess we know who he was seeing now,” she said, a weak attempt at her usual snark.

Harry’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I feel bad for all those jokes about him being so secretive, now…I didn’t know he was - you know-”

“Yeah.” Tracey sighed. “Shouldn’t have assumed it was a girl, I guess.”

They stared into the crackling flames of the fireplace. Harry found himself tuning into the conversations around him.

“Shame about Zabini, really,” Draco sighed. “But that Granger mudblood finally got what was coming to her, don’t you think?”

Harry vaguely noticed a look of unparalleled disgust on Ollie’s face, which he completely discounted. He was on his feet and across the common room in a moment.

“Flipendo!” he shouted. Draco went flying out of his seat and smashed into the back of a nearby sofa, nearly toppling it and the sixth-years sitting on it.

“Scourgify!” Harry shouted. White suds filled Draco’s mouth. “How dare you speak about her like that, you heartless bastard!”

Harry was practically trembling with rage. He felt a strong hand grab him by the shoulder and drag him into the nearby communal boys’ toilets. The door was slammed shut and locked. It was Tracey.

Harry faintly heard a few tiles crack and was intensely grateful that she’d taken him into a room without windows. If he’d lost control and smashed the common room windows, that would have been terrible.

“You should have let me murder him,” Harry growled, gripping his wand tightly.

“Oh believe me, I was tempted,” Tracey said through gritted teeth. “I cast a couple of fun things at him on my way out. He’s going to have some uncomfortable boils you-know-where.”

She kicked a stall door. “Oh, and I shot a Bat-Bogey Hex at him. Maybe that and the scourgify can suffocate him.”

Harry joined her in kicking the stall doors. It felt a lot better being angry than so devastatingly sad. Every time he saw Blaise and Hermione’s frozen bodies in his mind, he just wanted to burst into tears.

“Thanks - for - bringing me - in here,” he said in between kicks. “I might have - blown him up - otherwise.”

“No problem. Can’t have you doing that, can we? Blaise would want me to help…” her shoulders drooped. Harry felt some of his anger die.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know you’re just as upset as I am. You shouldn’t be dealing with my anger issues.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, slumping onto the floor. “I hate him just as much as you do, plus I get to live vicariously through you whenever you fight Draco. Less detention that way, too”

Almost as if the word detention had summoned him, Snape entered the room. He shut and locked the door behind him.

“Potter, I’m assuming this was provoked?” Snape said. Harry nodded. “While I don’t condone violence, I was told what Mr Malfoy was saying, and that’s completely unacceptable.”

A conflicted look crossed his face. 

“For appearances sake, the two of you have detention tomorrow,” Snape said wearily, “But you can use that time to sit in the corner of my classroom and do whatever it is you do.”

“Thanks, sir,” Harry said.

“If you tell anyone I’m doing this, you’ll regret it,” he said sternly. “And I’m very sorry to hear about your friends. That must be difficult.”

Harry and Tracey nodded.

“Stay in here as long as you need,” Snape said. “Mr Malfoy should be in his dorm by now.”

He walked out of the bathroom and shut the door. Harry caught a brief glimpse of some Slytherin upper-years trying to get a glimpse before the door slammed shut. 

“That was surprisingly…nice,” Tracey said, frowning at the door.

“Having two petrified friends must count for a get-out-of-detention free card,” Harry said dryly. He sighed. “I want to figure out this Heir business even more now.”

“The attacks are getting worse,” Tracey said. “They’ve been escalating, haven’t you noticed? First a cat, then a student, then two people, now four…”

“It could be a killing next,” Harry said darkly. “We need to do something .”

“Keep an eye on Ollie, yeah?” she said. “He’s been acting weird, maybe he’s behind it.”

“Maybe, Maybe not, but I bet he knows something ,” Harry said, curling his hands into fists. “We’ve just got to figure out what.”

She sighed. “Well now we’re stuck in the common room all the time, now. It’s not like we’ve got anything else to do.”

Harry groaned. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

“I know.” She gently squeezed his hand. “But at least we still have each other?”

But we don’t have Blaise. Harry took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Ready to go back out there?” she asked.

Harry sighed. “Ready.”

Chapter Text

Over the next few weeks, Harry threw himself wholeheartedly into spying on Ollie. This was quite easy for him, since there were new rules in place because of the attacks that meant Harry was in the common room with the rest of his year almost constantly. Still, that in itself was a problem; it meant the only time he and Tracy got to see Neville was at meals, where they had to sit separately, or in Potions, which wasn't a great environment for talking, especially considering how on edge Neville was around Professor Snape. It made their already fragmented group feel even more shattered. Harry could only imagine how Neville was feeling; he was feeling lonely enough, and he still had Tracey to keep him company. Neville, on the other hand, was completely isolated in Gryffindor without Hermione. They’d tried writing letters to each other, but it just wasn’t the same as actually talking.

Still, this separation from his friend only made Harry feel more motivated to figure out what was going on with his brother. The more he watched, the more Harry was convinced that he definitely knew something. Ollie was acting the same way he had last year when he was planning to take down Quirrell; furtive and suspicious. Oddly enough, he was also spending lots of time alone. Harry never saw him sitting with Draco, Vince and Greg anymore. He wondered what on earth had happened there.

All that spying didn't yield that many helpful clues, though. The only thing Harry thought could be a hint was the day where Ollie came to lessons looking pale, shaken and exhausted. Still, that was also the day Dumbledore was kicked out and Hagrid was taken to Azkaban. That was enough to shake anyone, particularly Ollie, who was very close friends with Hagrid, so it might have been unrelated.

On the other hand, when Harry had been looking through his trunk that same day, his invisibility cloak looked different, somehow. He thought Ollie could have used it for whatever he was up to. At the same time, though, Harry was increasingly paranoid these days. It could have just been his mind playing tricks on him.

Still, it was all yet another reason that Harry thought Ollie could be involved. If Hagrid was potentially behind the attacks, as the Hogwarts rumour mill suggested, would Ollie have helped him? On the other hand, most of the Slytherins didn’t seem to think Hagrid had it in him to be the Heir. It was all a confusing mess, and Harry was eagerly awaiting the day when the Mandrakes were ready.

In addition to the spying, however, Harry was faced with another issue; the upcoming end of year exams. To everyone's surprise, Professor McGonagall hadn't cancelled them.

"It's my role as acting Headmistress to maintain normalcy!" she declared, much to the students’ dismay.

Still, Harry's heart wasn't in his work this year. He normally tried quite hard to do well, but studying and homework were so intrinsically linked to Hermione in his mind. Every time he opened up a textbook, he could hear her bossily ordering Harry and Blaise to stop talking and put their heads down.

Tracey seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"When they wake her up, she'll be in a tizzy that she missed all this studying time," she sighed. "I know Professor McGonagall said the petrified students won't be taking exams, but I bet she'd insist anyway."

"Remember those revision timetables she drew up last year?" Harry smiled fondly. "I need one of those right now. I just can't seem to do this without her there, you know?"

"Yeah." Tracey threw her quill aside. "It just feels wrong."

Still, Harry and Tracey's mood was marginally improved by McGonagall's announcement a few days later.

"The Mandrakes have begun to try and move into each other's pots," she said happily. "They'll be ready to harvest anytime soon, so the Mandrake Draught will be prepared and the students revived.”

The whole hall burst out into cheers. Harry and Tracey shared delighted grins.

"Maybe we can put a stop to all this investigating," Tracey said. "The petrified students will be able to tell us who their attackers were soon enough!"

Harry felt like a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Things could finally start to go back to normal.

Harry quickly ate his words, however, when he noticed Ollie's strange behaviour following their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. While Lockhart was preening and spouting about his takes on the attacks, and how unnecessary the security measures were.

Then, surprisingly, Ollie interrupted. 

“I agree, sir!” he said loudly. “We’re perfectly capable of making our way to lessons, aren’t we? It’s such a waste of your valuable time.”

Harry and Tracey exchanged suspicious looks.

“Exactly, Ollie!” Lockhart said, almost knocking Draco over as he gesticulated. “Us teachers are up half the night on guard…it’s frankly ridiculous…”

“Well, we’re only a corridor away,” Ollie said. “We can make our own way, if you’d like.”

“Brilliant,” Lockhart said, immediately striding off. “I need to prepare for my next lesson, anyway…”

As the rest of their classmates walked off, Harry noticed Ollie lingering behind the pack of students.

"I'm following," he muttered. "Cover for me if anyone notices, yeah?"

"Will do," Tracey whispered. "Be careful, alright?"

Harry hurried down the corridor after his brother, carefully making sure his footsteps were quiet. He seemed to be heading in the direction of the disused girls bathroom that Moaning Myrtle haunted. Harry felt his curiosity grow; what was it about that place? Harry had a hunch that somehow, it was connected to more of the attacks than just the one on Mrs Norris.

Ollie glanced over his shoulder and froze when he saw Harry. His eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing?!" he hissed.

"The better question is what are you doing?" Harry countered. 

"Stop following me!"

"Not before you -"

"Potters!" A loud voice said. Professor McGonagall had come around the corner and spotted them.

"What are you doing?" Her lips were pressed into a thin, bloodless line.

"We - we were-" Ollie stammered.

"Trying to visit the Hospital Wing!" Harry burst out. They both stared at him. 

Harry, thinking frantically, bit the inside of his cheek, hard, so that tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

"I wanted to sneak into the Hospital Wing to try and see Hermione and Blaise, Professor," he lied. "I've been missing them terribly…."

"Harry just wanted to tell them that the Mandrake Draught is almost ready, and not to worry," Ollie added. Harry could tell he was putting on his best Boy-Who-Lived charm.

"Of course you can," Professor McGonagall said in a strangled sort of voice. "I'll let Professor Flitwick know. Tell Madam Pomfrey I've given permission." 

She turned the corner and Harry faintly heard the sound of her blowing her nose.

"Nice save," Ollie said, staring at Harry wide-eyed. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“It’s not because I wanted to help you ,” Harry muttered out of habit. “I was just trying to save my own skin.”

Ollie opened his mouth, as if to retort, but cut himself off with a sigh. “We have to go to the Hospital Wing now, don’t we?”

"I guess," Harry grumbled, and they turned off in the direction of the Hospital Wing. "Are you gonna tell me what you're up to on the way?"

Ollie scowled. "Don't pry. It's none of your business."

"Come off it, Ollie!" He burst out irritably. "I know you know something. You've been acting weirdly for weeks, and if it could be used to save the school you need to tell someone about it! Besides, you do owe me. I just saved you from piles of detention."

Ollie sighed, looking conflicted. “Well, I don’t have anything else to tell…”

“I have information, too, you know,” Harry said quickly. “Maybe between the two of us, we can find out what’s going on.”

"If I tell, you'll keep your mouth shut?"

"Fine," Harry agreed.

"I was trying to see Moaning Myrtle," he said in a low voice.

"That ghost who haunts the girls' loo?" he said in amazement. "You think she's behind it?"

"No." Ollie said, rolling his eyes. "I…found out…that the girl who died last time got attacked in a bathroom. That got me thinking - what if she never left?"

"You might be onto something," Harry said slowly. 

"I know I am!" Ollie said urgently. "But with all these security measures I haven't been able to get into that flipping bathroom for weeks! This was my first opportunity, but now I’ve blown it."

“Let’s go after we visit Hermione and Blaise,” Harry decided. In all honesty, he was dying to see if Ollie’s theory had any substance, even if it meant dealing with his brother for a bit longer. “We should have enough time to talk to her before we’re expected back in Charms.”

They had just reached the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey let them in, clucking in disapproval about the pointlessness of visiting Petrified students.

Harry sat on the chair between Hermione and Blaise's beds. He was still holding hands with Kevin Ernwhistle. Harry felt a stab of guilt for bringing Ollie here with him; outside of him, Tracey and Neville, no one really knew about their relationship. What if Ollie was going to be nasty about it?

To Harry's relief, however, Ollie politely didn't comment. Instead, he was looking at Hermione's stiff form.

"I cut Draco off, you know," he said unexpectedly. Harry jerked his head up suddenly.

"You did?" he said, stunned.

"Yeah," Ollie said. "That thing he said about Hermione was kind of the last straw. All this Heir of Slytherin stuff really brought how… horrid he is to the surface. I'm finished with him."

Harry could think of a thousand snarky comments to make at that statement, but held himself back. Draco hadn’t been the old horrid one in that friendship, after all…

Still, Ollie actually seemed to be trying to do something good for once, and Harry felt obligated to try and encourage that. If he drove Ollie back into Draco’s arms, that would just make his life more difficult. They were more manageable as separate entities.

"Glad you finally came round," he decided to say.

"D'you think they saw the attacker?" Ollie asked. He seemed strangely transfixed by Hermione's frozen face.

Harry, on the other hand, was distracted. Something seemed off about Hermione's hand. A piece of paper was scrunched up in her fist.

Ollie followed Harry's gaze.

"Get it out," he whispered. "I'll hide you from view."

Harry painstakingly tugged the paper through Hermione's frozen fingers, taking great care not to tear it. Eventually, after several minutes, it finally came free.

Harry smoothed it out, revealing a creased, torn page from a library book.

He read through the paragraph carefully, which detailed a creature known as a Basilisk, supposed ‘King of the Serpents’, and its various powers. 

Scrawled in one corner, in Hermione's writing was a single word. Pipes .

Harry suddenly felt everything fall into place.

"The monster’s a Basilisk!" Harry gasped. "It all makes sense! I've been hearing this voice before all the attacks - it's because I speak Parseltongue! The monster is a snake, so I can understand it!"

"All the other stuff I’ve been seeing makes sense too, now!" Ollie said, slowly nodding his head. "All of Hagrid's roosters have been dying for no reason…it must have been because its crow kills the Basilisk! Spiders flee before it…have you noticed how weird all the spiders have been acting?"

"I have!" Harry said eagerly, remembering the fleeing spiders he'd seen after Mrs Norris was Petrified. "And the reason no one died…you have to look it in the eye for it to kill you! No one did! Hermione had a mirror, Justin saw it through Nearly-Headless Nick…nobody looked at it directly!"

"But how could a massive snake get around the school without being seen?" Ollie asked.

Harry thought about what Hermione had written. "Pipes…it's been using the plumbing! I’ve heard a voice from inside the walls!"

"If it's using the plumbing," Ollie said, "then maybe the entrance is in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom! There’s been all sorts of weird stuff going on in there…”

"There must be another Parselmouth lurking about and letting out the monster!" Harry said. "Who do you think it could be?"

They sat there in silence for a moment, both of them unsure.

"We should go to someone," Harry realised. "If we tell the teachers what we know, they can sort it. Let's find Snape."

"Are you joking?" Ollie said. "He hates me!”

“For good reason,” Harry muttered.

Ollie scowled. “I heard that.”

“You were supposed to.”

“Can we not fight?” he snapped. “We discovered the deadly monster! Can’t we just tell someone who doesn’t hate me, like McGonagall?”

Harry rolled his eyes, but knew Ollie had a point about the arguing. "Let's just go to the staffroom and get whoever we can find. Break's in ten minutes, so they should all be there soon."

They sprinted from the Hospital Wing and burst into the staffroom, but found it deserted.

"Should we just wait in here?" Ollie asked.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but moments later, a magically magnified voice boomed through the halls.

"All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom immediately."

Harry and Ollie exchanged a frantic glance.

"Hide!" Ollie hissed, grabbing Harry by the elbow and dragging him into a cloak-filled closet.

“Do you think there’s been another attack? I haven’t heard anything…”

“Maybe…” Ollie whispered, but they both fell silent as the staffroom doors burst open. All the teachers filed in, muttering amongst themselves. A grave-looking McGonagall came in soon after.

“It’s happened,” she whispered. “A student has been taken right into the Chamber itself…”

The Professors all gasped and squeaked, and Harry felt his chest constrict.

“The Heir of Slytherin,” she continued, “left another message. Right underneath the first one. ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’ ”

Harry heard someone burst into tears.

“Which student is it?”

“Ginny Weasley,” McGonagall whispered. Harry felt Ollie reach out and grab his hand, but he didn’t let go. Ginny Weasley…she and her brothers were practically family to the Potters, for better or for worse. They were going to be devastated.

“We’ll have to send all the students home tomorrow,” McGonagall said quietly. “It’s far too unsafe.”

There were a series of sobs and sniffles from the various Professors, which were quickly silenced by the staffroom door bursting open. 

“Ah, sorry, dozed off!” Lockhart said merrily. “What did I miss?”

Harry resisted the urge to burst out of the closet and slap Lockhart round the face as the rest of the staff explained what had happened. Still, he did get some sense of satisfaction at the man’s horrified expression as they sent him off to enter the Chamber.

As the teachers all filed out of the staffroom to inform the students of what happened, Ollie turned to him.

“Now what?” he asked in a shaky voice.

"We should go back to our dorms," Harry whispered. "Snape'll notice if we're missing."

"Good point," Ollie said in a subdued voice. “But should we run to Lockhart’s office first and let him know what we know? Might as well…”

“I guess,” Harry said wearily, although the whole thing felt pointless now. All Harry could think about was Ginny Weasley's laughing face. He couldn't believe the monster had taken her.

"The poor Weasleys," Ollie said, breaking the silence.

"And poor Jasmine," Harry said. His heart sank as he realised he was going to have to break the news to her. “How are we going to tell her?”

“I don’t know…” Ollie whispered. “It’s awful, isn’t it? Just awful…”

They had reached Lockhart’s office. Harry could hear a suspicious amount of activity and banging about going on inside. 

Harry folded away the cloak while Ollie knocked, which silenced the activity inside. The door opened the tiniest crack, revealing one of his sky-blue eyes.

"Ah - the Potter boys," he said hurriedly. "I do apologise, I can't see you - I'm ever so busy you see-"

"We have information, sir," Ollie said quickly, "about the Chamber."

"Er - well - alright, just come in," he said, ushering them in. 

Harry glanced around in alarm. The office had been half-stripped, and Lockhart’s belongings seemed to have been hastily stuffed into a handsome trunk.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Ollie asked nervously.

"After a fashion," he said, piling a bundle of robes into a trunk. "Urgent call - have to run-"

"Wait a minute!" Ollie interrupted. "What about the Chamber? What about Ginny ?"

"It's rather unfortunate, but I can't-"

"You're the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor!" Harry burst out. "This is your job!"

"Well when I took the job this wasn't in the job description!" He blustered.

"What about all that stuff you did in your books?" Ollie asked.

"Books can be…misleading." 

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

“My books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t believe I’d done those things, now would they?” Lockhart said with a frown. 

"So you're just taking credit for what other people have done?" Harry said in disbelief. He disliked Lockharts, but he'd never imagined …

"There is a lot more work involved than just that, you know!" He said indignantly. "Tracking these people down, getting their stories and putting Memory Charms on them... If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's a Memory Charm. I'm rather good at them."

The lid of his trunk clicked shut.

"One last thing…" he pulled out his wand and turned to them. "I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you two now. Awfully sorry, but I can't have you blabbing-"

Harry quickly grabbed his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Lockhart flew backwards into his trunk. His wand flew out of his hand, and was deftly caught by Ollie.

They both stood over his trembling form. Harry tried to conjure up his best menacing look.

"What do you want from me?" Lockhart said weakly. "I don't know where the Chamber is!"

"Well luckily enough we do," Ollie said. He jerked his wand towards the door. "Get up. Let's go."

They both marched Lockhart through the corridors with their wands to his back.

"Shouldn't we get someone else before we storm in there?" Harry whispered.

"There's not enough time!" Ollie whispered back. "What if Ginny's still alive? What if this is our only chance to save her and the school?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. 

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Ollie said quietly. “It’s probably dangerous. You don’t have to risk your neck, it’s fine.”

“Well, I’m the only one who can speak Parseltongue here,” Harry said reluctantly. “You sort of need me. Besides, you might need help managing this idiot.”

He glanced at Lockhart, who was feebly walking ahead of them.

“Thanks, then,” Ollie said, shoulders sagging with relief.

The Boy-Who-Lived, always rushing into dangerous situations , Harry thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Harry, Ollie and Lockhart finally reached the girls’ toilets, which they sent Lockhart into first. 

Moaning Myrtle was sitting in the end stall.

"Oh, it's you," she said to Ollie. "What do you want this time?"

Harry gave him a suspicious look. What was he doing, traipsing about the girls’ toilets regularly?

"How did you die?" Ollie asked. Harry sent him a shocked look. Wasn't that rude?

Myrtle didn't seem to think so, however. She actually preened, as if she'd been asked something highly flattering.

“Ooooh, it was dreadful ,” she said eagerly.. “It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then… I died.”

"How?" Ollie asked.

"No idea," she said with a shrug. "All I remember was a pair of big, yellow eyes."

"Where'd you see them?" Harry asked. 

"Over there," she said, vaguely pointing at the sink. Ollie hurried over to it, Harry close behind him.

They examined every inch of the sink, looking for clues. Eventually, Harry noticed it - a tiny snake on the side of the tap.

"Oh, that's never worked," Myrtle said as he tried to turn it on.

Harry frowned. A snake…

He stared at the snake. "Open."

Ollie narrowed his eyes. "If it was that easy, someone would have found it by now.”

"Just give me a minute!" Harry snapped. He tried to imagine that the snake was real; if he bobbed his head a certain way, it almost looked alive…

"Open," he said again, except this time he noticed the strange hissing sound leaving his mouth. The tap began to spin, opening up a large pipe in the floor.

Harry turned to Lockhart and Ollie. Lockhart looked like he was about to faint, while Ollie looked slightly repulsed.

"Oh, get over yourself," he said, rolling his eyes. "I hissed at a sink. What, are you, chicken?"

"No!" Ollie scowled. "Just not used to it, is all…"

“Well, if there’s a giant snake in there, you’d better get used to it,” Harry snapped. 

Lockhart yelped. “What’s this about a giant snake?”

“Oh get over yourself!” Harry shouted.

Ollie pointed his wand at the pipe.

"Lockhart. Get in.” he ordered.

Lockhart whimpered. "You boys really have this under control -"

" In. " Harry shoved him over the edge.

"Wish I could have shoved him," Ollie sighed. “Stupid prat…”

"Maybe you'll get to later," Harry said as he lowered himself into the pipe. It turned out to be a dank, slimy slide which spat Harry out on the floor of a dark tunnel. Lockhart was standing in the corner, trying to wipe the slime off his luxurious robes.

Ollie slid out next to him.

"Lumos," Harry said, examining his surroundings by the dim wandlight.

"I bet we're under the lake or something," Ollie said, wrinkling his nose. "That's where the Slytherin common room is, after all…"

"Probably," Harry said. "Let's go. Make sure you shut your eyes if you see something move."

They started to move forward. Harry steadfastly ignored the sickening crunch of animal bones beneath his feet.

"Harry, look!" Ollie hissed, grabbing his arm. He pointed to an enormous, curved shape further down the tunnel.

"Do you think it's asleep?" Harry whispered, slamming his eyes shut. He started to edge forward, as quietly and possible, to check.

Harry opened his eyes a fraction and breathed a sigh of relief when all his wand illuminated was a translucent, green snakeskin.

Harry heard a muffled groan, and saw Lockhart’s knees give out at the sight of the snakeskin.

“Oh, get up!” Harry snapped irritably, offering Lockhart a hand. That, of course, was his fatal error. 

With unexpected strength, Lockhart sprang to his feat and snatched the wand from Harry, before shoving him back to where Ollie was standing. During all the commotion, Ollie hadn’t had time to draw his wand.

“Don’t!” Lockhart snapped, brandishing the wand wildly as Ollie reached slowly towards his pocket.

"Well, time's up, boys!" He said merrily. "I'll be taking a bit of this snakeskin…say I killed the monster, but it was too late for poor Miss Weasley. Meanwhile, you boys - you lost your minds at the sight of her poor, mangled body…"

Harry bit his lip, focusing. He didn't have enough time…he wished with all his might, using all his anger and fear, that a chunk of the ceiling would break off and hit Lockhart.

Please, please, please…

"Say goodbye to-"

Crack!

A rock fell on Lockharts foot. He jumped away, howling.

But it wasn't over. More and more rocks began to fall from the ceiling.

"Run!" Harry shouted. He and Ollie sprinted away from the rubble, Lockharts howls being drowned out by the sounds of rocks echoing through the tunnel. When Harry turned around after they were a safe distance away, he saw a massive pile of rocks.

"That's not good," Ollie said weakly. “Lumos.”

He scanned the rocks closely, but didn’t seem to find an exit.”

"Yeah," Harry said, wide-eyed. “Not ideal.”

He stumbled against the wall, feeling a bit woozy.

Ollie frowned. "You did that, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said. He lifted up his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"You alright?"

"Just give me a minute," Harry said, waiting for the tunnel to stop spinning.

They sat in silence, only listening to the sounds of dripping from the tunnel wall.

"We're stuck in this tunnel now, aren't we?" Ollie said with a sigh.

"Seems it," he sighed. "I don't even have my wand..."

“Well, you’ve got that weird wandless magic stuff you can do,” Ollie said. “And I’ve still got mine. Look, you can stay behind if you want to, and try and dig an exit. I know it’s dangerous to do this unarmed.”

“I told you, it’s fine,” Harry said a little shortly. Part of him thought Ollie was just trying to steal whatever glory there could be from saving Ginny for himself, but the other part of him knew Ollie was actually being nice , which he really wasn’t used to. 

They continued walking along the tunnel until they reached a solid wall with two entwined serpents on it. 

"Are you ready for this?" Harry said shakily. His heart was pounding.

"No, but we need to do it," Ollie said resolutely. He jutted his chin out. "For Ginny. We've got this."

Despite the outward projection of confidence, Harry noticed his hands were trembling.

"Let's go." He stared at the glittering emerald eyes of the stone snakes.

" Open ."

The wall cracked open. With one last nervous look at each other, Harry and Ollie stepped inside.

Chapter Text

Harry warily looked around the long stone chamber he found himself in, ready to slam his eyes shut at the smallest sign of movement. Ollie was gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. As they walked between the long pillars, his and Ollie’s footsteps echoed loudly across the stone walls. Harry watched carefully, looking for something, anything…

As he reached the last set of pillars, Harry found himself facing a massive statue of an ancient, bearded man. At its base lay a small, red-headed form. 

“Ginny!” Ollie gasped, throwing his wand aside and sprinting to her side. Harry followed closely behind him.

Harry grabbed Ginny’s shoulders and started to shake her.

“Ginny, please wake up!” Harry said. Her head lolled from side to side - she was cold and limp under his grip.

“She won’t wake,” a quiet voice said from behind him.

Harry spun around and saw a tall, black-haired boy lazily leaning against one of the pillars, twirling Ollie’s wand between his fingers. Harry squinted; he seemed strangely blurry. It reminded Harry of what the world looked like when he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Ollie, who was kneeling next to Harry, frowned.

“Tom? Tom Riddle?”

The boy, Riddle, nodded, not taking his eyes off Ollie. Harry felt a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach.

“What do you mean she won’t wake?” Harry demanded. “Is she - is she-”

“She’s not dead,” Riddle said slowly. “Yet.”

Ollie was still staring at Riddle, mouth slightly open.

“Are you a ghost or something?” he asked.

“A memory,” Riddle said, “preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

He pointed towards a small, black book. It looked exactly like the one Ollie had snatched from Tracey all those months ago. The one Ollie had thought Harry had stolen.

“Ollie, what’s your diary doing here?” Harry asked. 

Ollie ignored him. He was still staring at Riddle, who was smiling with an eerie calmness.

“You’ve got to help me get her out of here, Tom!” he said desperately. “There’s a basilisk, it could be coming any minute!”

Riddle laughed; a high, cold laugh that chilled Harry’s very bones. He remembered that laugh, somehow, but he didn’t know where he’d heard it before…

“It won’t come until it’s called,” Riddle said quietly.

“Then we need to get Ginny out before someone calls it, then!” Ollie said impatiently.

Harry tried to grab his attention, but failed again. There was something really wrong with this boy, but Ollie hadn’t realised it yet.

“We’re going to talk, Oliver Potter,” Riddle said. “I’ve been waiting ever so long…”

“How did Ginny get like this?” Harry demanded, finally finding his voice.

“Well, that’s an interesting question,” Riddle said, still strangely calm. “And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley’s like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.” 

“What do you mean?” Ollie said slowly. A look of horrified understanding was dawning on his face.

He and Harry sat there in shocked silence as Riddle explained everything. How Ginny had been writing to him all year about her troubles, how he’d gradually begun to control her, and how Ginny had been the one to open the Chamber of Secrets - under his forced control, of course. As he explained, Harry began to feel his heart beat faster and faster. He needed a way to disable Riddle, but he needed to know what had happened, and he needed to get Ginny out…how would he manage to pull something like that off? 

Still, Harry was distracted from his planning once Riddle revealed that Ollie had started writing to him in the diary. Harry stared at Ollie, who looked like he was about to be sick.

“And why did you want to meet me?” Ollie said shakily.

“Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Oliver,” Riddle said. “Your whole fascinating history. I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So, I decided to show you my capture of that oaf friend of yours, Hagrid, to gain your trust…”

“You framed him?” Ollie shouted. “He’s my friend! How could you?!”

“It was my word against his, after all.” Riddle’s eyes glittered menacingly. “And who was Armando Dippet more likely to believe? The Slytherin prefect, model student, or big blundering Hagrid, always getting into trouble…”

He smirked. “Of course, Dumbledore wasn’t as stupid as the old Headmaster. He certainly kept an annoyingly close eye on me after Hagird was expelled, and I couldn’t open the Chamber again…until now.”

He crossed his arms and gave them a triumphant look. “I decided to preserve the memories of my sixteen-year-old self in the pages of this very diary so that some day, another would be able to carry on the noble work of Salazar Slytherin!”

“But you’ve failed!” Ollie said, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Nobody died this time! And in a few hours, all the Petrified victims will be getting the Mandrake Draught, and it will have all been for nothing!”

Riddle laughed that cold, high laugh again. Harry shivered.

“But don’t you see, Oliver?” Riddle said pleasantly. “Killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore! No…for months, my new target has been you.”

All the blood drained from Ollie’s face. 

“Imagine my annoyance when Ginny opened the diary after you’d gotten it!” Riddle said, annoyance creeping into his tone. “She’d seen you carrying it around and had quietly stolen it from your bag one day at lunch, scared that I would tell you all her secrets…”

By now, Harry’s heart was hammering so loudly that he could barely hear as Riddle explained how he’d taken Ginny down here to sap her life force, and to lure Ollie in.

“But I still have a few questions for you, Oliver,” Riddle said softly.

“Like what?” Ollie snapped.

“How was it that a useless little wizard like you was able to defeat Lord Voldemort, one of the greatest powers of all time?”

“What do you care?” Ollie spat. “Voldemort’s gone. He’s past your time.”

Riddle’s eyes gleamed.

“Lord Voldemort is my past, present and future.”

He pulled out Harry’s wand from his pocket and traced out three names.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.

A quick flick of his wrist rearranged them.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

Ollie gasped. Harry his stomach twist.

“You see?” Riddle whispered.

Now…get him now…

Harry summoned up all the rage and fear crackling under his skin and pushed it out to the ceiling. A large chunk of rock fell from the sky and into Riddle.

But it didn’t work. In his ghostly form, the rock had fallen through Riddle entirely. He laughed as he stepped out of the debris.

Shit. That had been his only plan…

Ollie glanced at Harry, wide-eyed. 

“Nice try, Oliver, but it would take a lot more than a little trick like that to kill me .” He sneered. Despite all of the danger they were in, Harry still felt a twinge of annoyance. Why did Ollie get the credit for everything?

Riddle seemed to have almost forgotten Harry was in the room, but he didn’t dare run…he needed to wait for another moment. Another opportunity to strike.

“You think that could have beaten me?” Riddle laughed. “The greatest sorcerer of our time? Please!”

“You’re not,” Ollie whispered, fists clenched.

“Not what?” Riddle snapped.

“Not the greatest sorcerer.” Ollie stood and drew himself up to his full height. “The greatest wizard is Albus Dumbledore! Everyone says so! Even you, you’re frightened of him! You never tried taking over Hogwarts did you? Because you’re scared!”

“I have defeated him!” Riddle shouted. “Dumbledore was driven from Hogwarts by the mere memory of me!”

“He’s not as gone as you might think!” Ollie said desperately. As much as Harry wanted to believe his brother’s words, he couldn’t. Even if they needed someone like Dumbledore, they were stuck in this Chamber, alone and unarmed…

Beautiful music began to ring through the walls of the Chamber. It made Harry shiver just to hear it. He felt like the music was vibrating through his very ribcage.

A pillar of flames burst erupted on a nearby pillar, and a beautiful, red-gold bird appeared, swooping to their side. It was gripping a ragged bundle, which it dropped at Ollie’s feet before landing on his shoulder. Harry quickly grabbed the bundle from the floor and handed it to Ollie.

“That’s - that’s a phoenix,” Riddle said slowly.

“Fawkes?” Harry said, gently rubbing a finger along the bird’s feathers. It let out another musical coo.

“That’s the old Sorting Hat,” Riddle said, eyeing the limp, ragged hat Ollie was holding with distaste. 

Riddle began to laugh again, louder and louder, until the hair on Harry’s neck stood up.

“This is all Dumbledore sends? A bird and a ragged old hat?” he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Do you feel brave, Oliver?”

As he stood next to Ollie, who was trying to look brave, Harry couldn’t help but agree with Riddle. They were just as screwed as when they’d started. 

“Twice we’ve met, Oliver,” Riddle said. “And twice, I’ve failed to kill you. Now tell me. How did you survive?”

“No one knows why you lost your powers,” Ollie said slowly. “But I know why you couldn’t kill me. Alice Longbottom sacrificed herself for me. She sacrificed herself for all three of us! Me, Harry and Neville! And that would have stopped you from killing any of us!”

Ollie laughed. “You wouldn’t be able to kill three twelve-year-old boys, even if you tried. How does that feel, Riddle? I’ve seen you. You’re weak, powerless, in hiding…”

Riddle smirked. “Ah, saved by the power of love. I can see how that would be a powerful counter-charm. Well, I guess there’s nothing special about you after all, is there?”

Ollie’s face crumpled slightly.

“We’re rather similar, aren’t we Potter? Both half-bloods, both Slytherins, both with a desperate thirst for power and greatness…”

“I’m nothing like you!” Ollie shouted. Harry noticed him trembling.

Riddle was growing clearer and clearer by the minute. They needed to do something, but Harry was powerless. Maybe, if Ollie distracted Riddle enough somehow, he could grab Ginny and run, but how would he carry her?

“Now, Oliver, I’m going to teach you a little lesson,” Riddle grinned manically. “Let’s see how the power of Lord Voldemort himself faces up against you, shall we? You say I can’t kill a twelve-year-old boy? Watch me.”

His grin grew wider as he turned to Harry for the first time. Harry shivered. “And when I’m done, I’ll kill you too, Harry. And when that’s over, I’ll kill the Longbottom brat for good measure.”

He raised his arms up and faced the statue. A strange hissing left his mouth, but Harry could understand everything…

“ Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four. ”

Ollie looked at Harry, confused. The statue’s mouth began to open.

“Ollie, he’s summoning the basilisk!” Harry shouted. “Run!”

Ollie backed away, hitting the stone wall. Harry followed him. 

Riddle frowned. “How can you speak Parseltongue, Harry?”

Uh oh.

Riddle shrugged. “No matter, you’ll be dead soon enough…”

Fawkes took flight from Ollie’s shoulder.

Something was moving inside the statue. Harry slammed his eyes shut, breath fast and rapid. 

Something huge hit the Chamber floor, and uncoiled itself. 

Then, Harry heard Riddle’s whisper.

“ Kill them .”

“Ollie, he’s sent it to kill us!” Harry whispered. He could hear the basilisk making its way across the stone floor.

“ Stop !” Harry hissed in Parseltongue. “ Do not touch us! ”

He heard the basilisk stop for a moment.

“ Ssspeaker ?” The snake’s Parseltongue was deeper and raspier than Harry’s and Riddle’s. It sent a deep chill through him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“ Ignore the boy !” Riddle shouted. “ Kill them! Listen to your master !”

The snake began to move again.

“You may be a Parselmouth, but you’re not the Heir of Slytherin, Harry Potter!” Riddle shouted. “The snake answers only to me!”

Suddenly, there was a large explosion to Harry’s right, where Ollie was standing. He needed to open his eyes, he needed to see if it had gotten his brother…

But when Harry opened them, he saw that the snake had struck the snake-shaped pillar next to Ollie. Fawkes was flapping around its head, stabbing the Basilisk’s eyes with his long, golden beak. Harry saw large droplets of blood dripping onto the ground.

“ Leave the bird !” Riddle shouted. “ Get the boys! They are behind you !”

“Ollie, do something!” Harry shouted desperately. “Grab Ginny or try and find help, I’ll distract it!”

Even if the basilisk didn’t obey him, it still seemed confused when Harry spoke to it. Maybe, just maybe, that could help…

“ Get the bird !” Harry hissed, feeling a small pang of guilt for Fawkes. He knew that Fawkes was immortal, but Harry still felt a bit bad.

“ No! You can still smell the boys! Come on, kill them! ”

“ The boys are not the real threat !” Harry hissed. “ The bird is your enemy! Attack him first! ”

“ Obey your master !”

The basilisk’s head was jerking from side to side as Fawkes continued to swipe at it, confused and bloodied. Harry glanced over his shoulder to see what Ollie was doing, but found him with the Sorting Hat rammed on his head.

Harry felt a surge of annoyance. “Ollie, you idiot! Take that off and get out!”

He saw Ollie stagger, as if an invisible force had hit him. He yanked the hat off his head, and reached inside. He drew out a long, ruby-encrusted sword and held it out.

How the hell did he get a sword?!

“ Kill the boys! ” Riddle screeched. “ Now, now, now !”

Harry prepared to try and distract the basilisk again, but it was too late. It was already swinging back around to Harry, ragged eye sockets still dripping blood…he had no time to run…

But before its gaping maw could close around him, Ollie shoved Harry to one side and stood in front of him. As the basilisk lunged, he raised the sword high above his head and drove it straight into the roof of the basilisk’s mouth. Blood rained over his brother, drenching his hair and robes. Moments later, the basilisk flopped over to one side, limp and dead.

But then Ollie sank against the wall. Harry ran to his side as he pulled a long, sharp fang from the crook of his elbow and dropped it on the ground.

“No!” Harry shouted, grabbing Ollie’s arm. He tried to find the wound, but Harry couldn’t tell where the basilisk blood ended and Ollie’s blood started.

“Harry,” Ollie said weakly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“You’re not dying, Ollie!” he said in a choked voice, tears springing to his eyes. “You’re not!”

Small rocks had started to rain from the ceiling around Harry. He heard Riddle laughing behind him.

“Yes he is, Harry!” Riddle said gleefully. “And I’m going to watch. I’m going to enjoy this. And when he’s done, I’ll kill you too.”

“I’m sorry for everything, Harry,” Ollie whispered. His eyes had started to glaze over. “Run…please…”

“No! I’m not leaving you!” Harry shouted, shaking Ollie’s shoulders as the tears ran down his cheeks.

Fawkes, who had landed next to them, was also crying. Thick, pearly tears had started to drip down the sides of his beak and into the wound on Ollie’s arm.

“You’re dead, Oliver Potter,” Riddle whispered. Harry spun around and shot another chunk of rock at him, which Riddle easily sidestepped. But he was getting more solid, and Harry noticed a gleam of fear in his eyes. Maybe he could throw another one that would actually hit, but Riddle was so close to Ginny, and he could miss…

The diary . Harry saw it sitting nearby. That was the source of his power, wasn’t it?

 He picked up the basilisk fang, threw himself towards the diary and stabbed it, hard.

There was an awful, ear-splitting scream. The book was spurting ink like a wound, and Riddle was writhing and screaming on the ground. Harry raised the fang and stabbed it, again, and again, and-

Silence fell. Riddle had vanished. 

Harry dropped the fang and tried to get up, but his legs were too shaky. Harry felt like a rock was lodged in his chest, stopping him breathing. He didn’t know how he could bring himself to turn around and see his brother’s dead body…

But as he turned, he saw Ollie slowly trying to get up. 

“But-” he gasped, “But you - the basilisk-”

“Fawkes’ tears did something,” Ollie said, staring at his arm incredulously. The flesh had completely healed; it was as if nothing had ever happened to him. “I’m - I’m alive.”

Harry ran over and hugged him hard. He felt Ollie hugging back, just as tightly.

“I meant what I said,” Ollie said shakily, “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a complete dickhead for years, and I didn’t know how to stop, or say I was sorry, but I am, I’m so sorry, and I’m done being like that! God, Harry, I’m so sorry-"

“Don’t apologise! You just saved our lives!” Harry said breathlessly. “You threw yourself in front of a giant snake for me, and you actually killed it! I should be thanking you!”

“Only because you distracted it!” Ollie said. “And you killed Riddle with that fang! That was absolutely wicked!”

They pulled apart, and stared at each other slightly awkwardly.

“I’ve got blood all over you, sorry…” Ollie said, gesturing to Harry’s ruined robes. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, too,” Harry said suddenly. “Look, it wasn’t just you that was the problem. I haven’t always been the best, either…I still feel bad that I said I wished Voldemort had killed you last year. I really don’t, I promise.”

“No, I know you don’t,” Ollie said quickly. “But this is still my fault, and I’m sorry. I’ll do better from now on, I swear.”

“Good.”

There was a sudden gasp from the other end of the Chamber.

“Ginny!” Harry shouted. He and Ollie ran to the base of the statue, where she was stirring.

Her eyes roved across their blood-stained clothes, the body of the basilisk and she burst into tears.

“I’m s-so sorry - it was m-me a-all along, but I didn’t know how to t-tell anyone,” she sobbed. “R-Riddle made m-me - what’s happened? W-where is he?”

“It’s alright,” Harry said, pointing to the nearby diary. “He’s finished.”

“Come on Ginny, let’s get out of here,” Ollie said. He and Harry helped her to her feet. Ollie went to grab the sword, hat and diary while Harry combed the floor to retrieve Ollie’s wand which Riddle had stolen.

A fresh wave of sobs overtook Ginny.

“I’m going to be expelled!” she wept. “I’ve been looking forward to coming to Hogwarts for y-years, and n-now I’ll have to leave! What’ll Mum and Dad say?”

Fawkes was hovering by the Chamber Entrance as Harry, Ollie and Ginny stumbled out. The stone walls closed behind them with a hiss as they started walking back through the dark tunnel.

After a few minutes, they reached the rubble wall.

“I forgot about that…” Ollie said. “That’s going to be an issue.”

“I’m pretty good at Blasting Charms,” Harry said. “I can try and give it a go.”

“Use my wand,” Ollie said, handing his over. 

“Really?” Harry said. Part of him thought it wouldn’t work; Ollie and him had hated each other for years, and wands were generally loyal to their owners' interests…

“Just give it a go.”

“Confringo!” The spell didn’t work like it should, but a large chunk of rubble broke away.

Huh . Maybe the twin thing counted for more than Harry thought.

“Nice!” Ollie said. “Just keep doing that, and we’ll be able to get through in no time.”

Harry kept at it, blasting the wall over and over until there was a hole big enough for him, Ginny and Ollie to wriggle through. Fawkes followed closely behind him.

As they reached the other side of the rubble wall, Harry was presented with another problem. Lockhart was lying there, unconscious. He was pinned from the waist down under the rocks. Harry’s wand was lying nearby, which he quickly snatched up.

“That was a complete accident!” Harry said, fear gripping him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him! What happened? Is he dead?”

Ollie went over to Lockhart and felt his wrist. 

“No, he’s alive,” Ollie said shakily. “I can feel a pulse.”

“I didn’t realise he’d get stuck! I was just trying to knock him out or something!” Harry said, panicking.

“Well can you get him out?” Ollie demanded.

“I don’t know!” Harry said, biting his lip. “I can probably blast him out better with my wand, but I can’t always control it, I might make him worse. Besides, the Chamber ceiling must be unstable from all the water damage, I could cause another cave in!”

“Let’s go get a teacher to get him out,” Ollie said firmly, cutting off Harry’s babbling.

Harry looked around the tunnel uncertainly.

“How exactly do we get out, though?” he asked.

Suddenly, Fawkes swooped in front of them, waving his golden tail feathers.

“I think he wants us to grab hold,” Ollie said doubtfully. “He’s a powerful bird, he can probably carry us out or something.”

He took the diary and passed it to Harry. 

“You take this. Ginny, hold onto the Sorting Hat. I’ll take the Sword.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve got a giant sword,” Harry muttered as they all joined hands. “Of course that’s your weapon.”

Instead of scowling at Harry, like he usually would, Ollie actually smiled .

An extraordinary sense of lightness passed through Harry as Ollie grabbed onto Fawkes, and he felt himself travelling upwards through the pipe. A chill air whipped Harry’s hair about before they were all unceremoniously dumped onto the floor of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. The sink that hid the slide began to slide back into place.

“Wait! But we still need to get Lockhart out!” Ginny said.

“I can always open it later,” Harry said. 

“Or don’t,” Ollie muttered. “Good riddance, in my opinion.”

Moaning Myrtle swooped out of her stall, goggling at them.

“You’re alive ,” she said. She seemed strangely disappointed. “I was rather hoping…if you had died, you could share my toilet.”

“No, thanks,” Ollie said grimly. “We’d better be off now.”

They followed Fawkes’ golden form down the corridor. Meanwhile, a fresh wave of tears had started flooding down Ginny’s face. 

They eventually reached an office door that Harry didn’t quite recognise. Ollie knocked and pushed the door open.

Here goes nothing…

Chapter Text

The three of them stood there in silence. There was a sudden scream.

“Ginny!”

Mrs Weasley, who had been sitting by a fireplace with red-rimmed eyes, threw herself at her daughter, Mr Weasley close behind her. Nearby, Professor Dumbledore stood with Professor McGonagall, who was clutching her chest. She had gone rather red in the face. 

Mrs Weasley grabbed Harry and Ollie and dragged them into the hug.

“You saved her!” She gasped. “Thank you, thank you! But how?”

“I think we’d all like to know that,” Professor McGonagall said faintly, grabbing onto the mantelpiece for support.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a silver phoenix burst out. “Call off the search. They’ve been found.”

The silver phoenix disappeared into the air.

“So boys,” Dumbleodre said calmly. “What happened?”

Ollie and Harry both went forward to the desk, where they laid the sword and the diary.

They began to tell the adults everything that had happened, frequently interrupting each other, but eventually managing to tell the whole story of how they’d found and gotten into the Chamber. They then described how they’d taken down Riddle, both carefully avoiding Ginny and the diary’s involvement.

Dumbledore’s electric-blue eyes gleamed. 

“My question,” he said slowly, “Is how did Voldemort manage to enchant young Ginny while my sources say he’s been hiding out in Albania?”

“Ginny? Enchanted?” Mrs Weasley gasped. 

Ollie did most of the talking this time; he understood more of how the diary had worked, after all. Harry made a mental note to try and get more information about that at some point. Still, when it came to how it had been destroyed by the Basilisk fang, he let Harry take over.

“Brilliant,” Dumbledore said quietly as he examined the damp pages. “A brilliant feat of magic. Of course, coming from one of the most brilliant students Hogwarts has ever seen…”

Harry didn’t think that was a normal reaction to have, but decided not to comment. He’d always thought Dumbledore was a little mad, after all.

Dumbledore finally explained to the bewildered Weasleys about how Tom Riddle was actually Lord Voldemort, under a different name. 

Mrs Weasley gasped. “What’s our Ginny got to do with - with - him?” 

“His d-diary” Ginny sobbed. “I’ve b-been writing in it, and he’s been w-writing back all year-” 

“Ginny!” said Mr. Weasley sternly. “Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain!”

“I d-didn’t know!” she sobbed. “I just found it hidden in my school things - I thought it was n-normal-”

“Miss Weasley really ought to go to the Hospital Wing,” Dumbledore interrupted. “She’s had quite the ordeal. Madam Pomfrey should still be awake - she’s been giving out the Mandrake Draught to all the Petrified students.”

“So Blaise and Hermione are okay!” Harry said happily. Dumbledore smiled at him.

“Indeed they are, Harry. And there will be no punishment, Ginny. You are not the first witch to be tricked by Voldemort. People far older and wiser have been, too.”

The Weasleys escorted her out of the office, still crying.

“Sir, there’s also something wrong with Lockhart,” Harry said nervously. “He tried to attack us in the Chamber so I, um…caused a bit of a landslide. He’s stuck under it and we couldn’t get him out.”

“Attacked?” Dumbledore inquired.

“He’s a fraud, sir,” Ollie chimed in. “He told us he faked everything that happened in his books, then tried to put a Memory Charm on us. Twice.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Oh Gilderoy. Always drawn in by the folly temptress of fame.”

“I’ll need to let someone into the Chamber to get him out, sir,” Harry said. “It shut itself after we left.”

“That can be dealt with soon,” Dumbledore said dismissively. “I still have a few more questions. Minerva, in the meantime, would you mind alerting the kitchens? I believe a feast is in order. And, if you could, send an owl to Azkaban and alert them of our friend Hagrid’s innocence.”

“Very well, Albus,” she said primly. “I’ll leave you to deal with these two.”

She swept out of the office, and Harry felt a small pit growing in his stomach. He was suddenly very conscious of just how many rules he’d broken.

“Oliver, I remember telling you that if you broke any more rules, you’d be expelled,” Dumbledore said. Ollie’s mouth gaped open.

“I suppose that goes to show all of us must eat our words sometime,” Dumbledore said, smiling at them. “You both did a great thing today. You’ll both be receiving Special Awards for Services to the School and two hundred points apiece for Slytherin.”

Harry couldn’t help his grin.

“It was very brave what the two of you did in that Chamber,” he said quietly.

A shadow seemed to pass over Ollie’s face. 

“Sir,” he began hesitantly. “That sword. On the hilt, it says it’s the sword of Gryffindor. But I’m a Slytherin. How could I get it?”

A miserable look crossed Ollie’s face. “How can I ever belong in Slytherin if I pulled the sword of Gryffindor out of the hat? Doesn’t that mean I was sorted wrong?”

Dumbledore sighed, and examined Ollie over his half-moon spectacles. “Your house doesn’t define everything about you, Oliver. A Gryffindor can be smart, a Hufflepuff can be ambitious, A Ravenclaw can be hard-working and a Slytherin can be brave.”

He leaned over the sword. “And in that Chamber, you must have displayed a true act of bravery to draw this sword out of the hat. A student from any house would have been able to do it if sufficiently motivated. Godric Gryffindor aimed to protect all his students, after all, not just those in his house.”

“I’m not trying to downplay the impressiveness of what you’ve achieved, though,” Dumbledore added. “It’s still a might feat to summon the Sword of Gryffindor. You’ve done yourself proud today.”

“But I don’t understand how that makes me belong. Slytherin only seems to draw out the worst in me, sir,” he said, glancing at Harry. “It’s let me be a bully. Riddle even said it makes us similar and I don’t want to be like him.”

“There is one thing that sets you and Tom Riddle apart, Oliver,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “And it’s the choices you make. If you choose to be a good person, and to fight for what’s right, then that sets you two far further apart than any house affiliation could.”

He sat back and steepled his fingers. “Maybe from now on, you can allow Slytherin to bring out the best in you. I know you displayed some of those traits today, after all…determination, resourcefulness…”

“I suppose I could, Professor,” Ollie said doubtfully.

He smiled at both of them.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Lucius Malfoy stormed in, a vein pulsing in his neck. Behind him, an ugly creature stood. It was wrapped in bandages and cowering at his feet. It was so heavily wrapped up that Harry could barely make it out as a house-elf. Ollie’s eyes widened when he saw it.

Lucius Malfoy quickly began shouting at Dumbledore - something about his suspension as Headmaster - all while Dumbledore sat there serene and calm. 

“Well, have you stopped the attacks?” Mr Malfoy sneered. “Caught the culprit? That was the reason you were suspended, after all.”

“Indeed we have,” Dumbledore said.

All the blood drained from Mr Malfoy’s face. “But - but who-”

“The same person as last time, Lucius,” Dumbledore said, holding up the ruined diary. “Lord Voldemort. Through a proxy, of course.”

“I see…”

 “A clever plan,” Dumbledore said slowly, “Because if these two boys hadn’t discovered this book, why - Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn’t acted of her own free will…” 

Harry felt like there was something going on here that he wasn’t privy to. Ollie, on the other hand, had a look of disgusted understanding on his face.

“Don’t you want to know how Ginny got ahold of that diary, Mr Malfoy?” Ollie said with mock innocence.

“How should I know how the brat got it?” he snapped.

“Because you gave it to her,” Ollie said quietly. “Remember when we ran into each other at Flourish and Blotts? You slipped it into her Transfiguration textbook.”

Mr Malfoy’s hands had clenched into fists. “Prove it, Potter.”

“No one will be able to do that, of course, Lucius,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Although I’d advise you to refrain from giving out anymore of Lord Voldemort’s school things. It would be an awful shame if something got…traced back to you…”

“We’re going, Dobby!” he snapped. Mr Malfoy stormed out of the door, the house-elf sticking closely to his heels. Harry faintly heard it squeal.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Ollie said quickly. “Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?”

Harry looked at him, confused.

“Certainly, Oliver,” Dumbledore said. “Harry and I must be off to fetch Gilderoy anyway. Hurry, though! Remember the feast.”

Ollie dashed out of the office, leaving Harry alone with Dumbledore.

“Ready, my boy?” he asked.

“Sure,” Harry said.

They started to walk back to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Harry noticed Fawkes was still floating behind them, cooing occasionally.

Once they got inside, Harry got to the sink with the snake etching. He imagined it was alive again…

“ Open. ”

The sink began to slide apart, revealing the pipe once more. Harry looked up and saw Dumbledore giving him a strange look that he couldn’t read.

“Fascinating…” he said quietly. Harry got the unsettling impression Dumbledore was talking about him , not the pipes.

“Sir,” Harry asked nervously. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but…why is it that I’m a Parselmouth, when no one else in my family is? Isn’t it genetic?”

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, examining Harry closely. “Well, I’m no expert on the subject, but I’d hypothesise that it’s…a hereditary ability that skipped a few generations.”

He stroked his long, silver beard. “Magic is a strange thing, Harry. Perhaps it came from your mother’s side. You have inherited some of her abilities, after all, including her penchant for wandless magic.”

“She can do it too?” Harry said curiously. “I didn’t know that.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Indeed she can. It’s less…explosive, than yours, however. Hers manifested as the ability to grow flowers and the like.”

Dumbledore seemed to hesitate again, but shook himself. 

“I’ll be off to get Gilderoy, now,” Dumbledore said. “You should pop along to the feast. I’m sure your friends are waiting for you.”

He waved goodbye before sliding down the pipe, Fawkes following him closely. Harry didn’t bother to ask how Dumbledore would get out; he’d surely find a way.

Still, as Harry exited the bathroom, he was overcome by an unsettling feeling. Somehow, he felt like Dumbledore had been keeping something from him…he just couldn’t quite pin down what. 

The feast was one of the strangest ones Harry had ever been to. Everyone was sat there in their pyjamas, and they were all sitting across tables with no care for house affiliation. Harry got to sit with Neville and Tracey, the latter of whom was very annoyed with him.

“You should have gotten me!” she complained. “If I’d known you were going to fight a Basilisk , I’d have gone with you!”

“There was no time!” Harry said sheepishly. “It just kind of…happened.”

They made him tell the story over and over again, until the Hall doors opened to reveal the Petrified students. Blaise and Hermione ran over to the three of them and they all fell into a massive group hug, even Tracey. 

“You figured it out!” Hermione gasped. “You solved it!”

“I did have a little bit of help,” Harry said, glancing over at Ollie. For the first time in months, he was actually sitting with Ron. There still seemed to be an air of tension around them, but they were talking.

Tracey followed his gaze. “I can’t believe you went to the Chamber with him .”

“I am so behind,” Blaise said. “You and Ollie did something together without killing each other? Fill me in!”

So Harry told the whole story once again for Blaise and Hermione.

“How do you think things will be between you two now, then?” Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. “I really don’t know. When I thought he’d died, it was the most awful feeling, like something inside of me snapped or something. I never expected that, you know? I mean, we’ve hated each other for all these years, and I didn’t realise I’d care so much if something happened to him.”

He looked at Ollie, who was laughing and eating a jam doughnut. He was still covered in all the slime and basilisk blood. So, Harry realised, was he.

“I guess, even after everything, he’s still my brother, you know?” Harry sighed. “But either way, I don’t hate him anymore. I couldn’t, not after going through something like that with him. Still…I don’t know if I exactly like him, either. I don’t know if we’ll end up being friends or anything. There’s just so much history between us, I’m not sure how we could. But I’d like to try and…get on, maybe. He did seem pretty sincere when he apologised to me in the Chamber.”

Harry looked around at his friends, who seemed doubtful.

“But I won’t do anything unless you guys give me the okay,” Harry added quickly. “He might be my brother, but you guys are my best mates. Family isn't just blood - you’re like my family, too, and he’s treated you awfully for years. If you don’t want things to change, things can stay the same.”

“Why would I want that?” Blaise asked unexpectedly. “If you guys…make a truce or whatever, he’ll leave us alone. It would be nice to live with someone who doesn’t try to hex me every time my back is turned. Still, be careful. I wouldn’t trust him just yet. He’s only just changing, after all.”

“Good point,” Harry said, glancing over at Draco. He was sitting in between Vince and Greg, looking even surlier than usual. “Whatever happens, I’ll take it slow.”

“I think he deserves a chance,” Neville piped up. “To be better. I’m a big believer in second chances.”

“If he wants to be a better person, like Harry’s saying, how’s he going to do it if no one ever lets him try?” Hermione added. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m not a fan of him, either. But he is Harry’s brother, at the end of the day.”

“And he did cut off Draco,” Neville said. “Even though he didn’t have anyone else.”

Blaise snorted. “I never saw that coming. Those two are normally joined at the hip.”

“You’re all a bunch of Gryffindors,” Tracey said, rolling her eyes.

“What do you think?” Harry asked, a little worried. “I won’t do anything unless you’re all okay with it.”

Tracey sighed. “I’m not going to be best friends with him or anything, but I won’t stop you either, alright? It’s like Blaise said, if he’s really trying to be a better person, he won’t hex us as much.”

“Good luck though, Harry,” Blaise said with a wince. “He’s not exactly an…easy person to deal with.”

“You’re telling me,” Harry said with a grimace. “Well, either way, hopefully things won’t be as bad as they used to.”

“Yeah,” Blaise said. “That’s always a plus.”

Blaise craned his neck in the direction of another table. Kevin Entwhistle was waving at him. He blushed and waved back.

“So,” Harry said. “Kevin, huh?”

Blaise ducked his head. “Yeah…”

“He’s fit,” Tracey commented.

“Yeah, you have good taste,” Neville added.

He looked around at them, smiling shyly. “He’s pretty great.”

“Sorry we were weird about it when you were sneaking off,” Tracey said softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Blaise said with a small smile.

The rest of the night passed on with equal merriment. Everyone kept coming up to Harry and Tracey and apologising for blaming them - Harry accepted their apologies cordially, although he was still a little annoyed with all of them. He’d spent the whole year being cursed in the corridors, after all. Tracey seemed equally irritated.

There was also the return of Hagrid, which Ollie in particular seemed happy about, as well as Dumbledore’s announcement that exams were cancelled, to the pleasure of all the students - except Hermione, of course.

He also announced that Lockhart wouldn’t be returning to school next year, which Blaise and Hermione were quite disappointed by.

Tracey smugly held out a hand. “You owe me three galleons.”

“I just spent the last few months frozen as a statue!” he said indignantly. “Don’t you feel a little sorry for me?”

“Yeah, but I want that money more. Use the Petrified card for something else.”

“What’s this bet?” Harry asked.

“That Lockhart did something incredibly bad in his past that would get him fired,” Tracey said. “Blaise thought it was so unlikely that he bet a load of money.”

Blaise huffed in annoyance.

“It’s your fault for making a bet that vague,” Harry said with a smirk. “Don’t throw a hissy fit!”

“Hermione, if you weren’t so stingy I’d have gotten you too,” Tracey said, grinning. “I know you sent him a card on Valentine’s day.”

“Well seeing as Blaise just lost three galleons I don’t think my policy on betting is changing any time soon,” Hermione said haughtily. “I’ll keep my money, thanks.”

The final term passed by quickly and happily. Harry spent almost every moment possible with his friends; he’d missed Blaise and Hermione terribly during their separation, after all. They had lots of free time, since Defence Against the Dark Arts had been cancelled for the rest of the term and there were no exams.

Harry had also begun to talk to Ollie every now and then - not much, just polite small talk in the dormitory or the common room, but it was better than the stony silence from before. To Harry’s surprise, he still hadn’t gone back to Draco. Ollie had actually started talking to Theo Nott more and more, though. Harry already preferred that friendship to Draco; he and Blaise still worked with Theo in Potions, and he was nice enough, if a little quiet.

The issue Harry was facing as summer approached was the two weeks of detention Snape gave Harry for the start of next year.

“But I got a Professor this time!” Harry complained. “I did what you said!”

“Gilderoy Lockhart, Potter!” Snape yelled. “If you had a singular modicum of reason, you’d realise how stupid that was! I’m giving you these detentions in the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, it’ll stop you getting yourself killed!”

Soon enough, they were all headed back home on the Hogwarts Express. Harry found himself looking forward to the summer more than he ever had - he and his friends were all seeing Blaise in Italy one weekend, he had more plans than ever to meet up with Tracey and Hermione and for once, time at the Potters didn’t look like it was going to end in him and Ollie killing each other.

All in all, it was looking up to be his best summer yet.

Chapter Text

Harry sat back on his bed and sighed. He was bored . Jasmine was reading through her new Charms textbook, and refused to play Quidditch with Harry until she finished two more chapters, and it was only so much fun flying by yourself.

Harry wasn't allowed to go out into Hornford either. Despite the fact that it had been months ago, now, Lily and James were still paranoid he'd get back into the cigarette selling business somehow. Even though it was annoying, Harry could understand where they were coming from. A part of him was still scared their memories would come back and they'd be after him, especially since a few people in the gang had been sent to prison. Still, the other part of Harry wanted to go see Dan. As far as he knew, his friend's memories hadn't been wiped, and Harry really wanted to see how he was…

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Harry called. The door slid open, revealing a sheepish-looking Ollie.

"Oh, hi," Harry said awkwardly.

"Hey," Ollie said. "So I was just wondering…do you want to go flying or something?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, feeling surprised. Suddenly, a wave of suspicion overcame him.

“Are you just using me to get Quidditch secrets so you can get on the team?” Harry asked, folding his arms.

Harry watched Ollie’s lips thin, and he opened his mouth as if to retort, but cut himself off at the last minute. 

“I’m not,” he said with a sigh. “Look, Harry. I’ve been a complete arse to you for years. I get that you can’t trust me. But I give you my word, I’m trying. I’m not going to be like that anymore.”

“I want to believe you, but it’s going to take time,” Harry mumbled. He’d promised himself that he was going to try with Ollie, he really had. But it was so hard actually doing it. 

“Well, no matter what happens with us, I’m stopping with the hexing,” Ollie said firmly. “And the general meanness. And if you don’t trust me to play Quidditch, I won’t.”

“No, I will,” Harry said quickly, feeling a twinge of guilt. “If you still want to. Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologise,” Ollie said. “Wanna go now?”

“Sure,” Harry said awkwardly.

As they walked down to the Quidditch Pitch, Harry tried not to look too surprised. In the first few weeks of the holidays, although he and Ollie had been civil, neither of them had actually seeked each other out before. 

They reached the pitch and grabbed their brooms.

"I know you play Seeker, but should we toss around the Quaffle?" Ollie suggested.

"Yeah no problem," Harry said. "Flint says it's good for coordination either way." 

He and Ollie kicked off and began throwing the Quaffle back and forth. Harry found himself enjoying it quite a bit. Since Ollie was a decent player, they could do all sorts of complicated throws and tricks without worrying about the Quaffle falling.

"So," Harry said, throwing the ball, "are you gonna try out for the team next year?"

"Definitely," Ollie said. "There's two spaces, right? Flint's and Montague’s?"

"Just the one," Harry said with a grimace. "Flint failed his N.E.W.T.s and he's retaking seventh year."

"Really?" Ollie said, frowning with surprise. "I thought Snape didn't let you play on the team if it jeopardised your grades."

"Normally he doesn't, but Flint refused to come back to school if he didn't get to keep playing," Harry said, rolling on his broom to catch the Quaffle. "He wants to play professionally. Besides, Snape would rather he stayed on. He's won us the Quidditch cup for years on end. It'd be stupid to let him quit."

"Less spots to get though," Ollie said with a sigh. 

"Little tip," Harry said hesitantly, "get fit. Go on runs and stuff. Flint likes his players to be agile, especially if you haven't got a lot of muscle on you."

As they threw the Quaffle about some more, Harry was overcome with an odd sense of deja vu. This conversation reminded him a lot of one he'd had with Ollie three years ago, when they'd first met. They'd talked about Quidditch then, too.

Harry just hoped this would just turn out a lot better than it had before.

Still, it was weird to him to just be talking about the Slytherin team and Quidditch casually with Ollie. It was so strange, in fact, that he thought about it all night until the next day at breakfast.

Their marks for the year had just come in. While they didn't have end of year exams, the teachers had averaged out their test scores for the whole year and sent reports. Ollie's report wasn’t the best, and Lily and James were scolding him about it.

"You can't just mess about in school all day, Ollie!" Lily said sternly, waving his report about. "You've got to try harder. You're a smart boy, you have it in you to do well. Your practical marks are good, but your test scores are so low! You need to dedicate more time to studying!”

"Exactly," James said with uncharacteristic seriousness. "You're a lot like me, you know. I always wish I'd tried harder when I was in school, I could have gotten far better O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s if I'd just put some more work in. Education is a privilege, don't throw it away!"

Ollie was sinking further and further into his seat. He looked completely miserable. Harry felt pretty bad for him.

"Hey, Ollie," he said suddenly, "How do you feel about another round of Quidditch?

Lily's fork clattered to the table. James was staring at them, open-mouthed. 

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So dramatic . Still, at least his distraction seemed to have worked.

"Sure!" Ollie said, sending him a grateful look. "Jasmine, wanna come?"

"Yeah!" She was looking at the both of them like Christmas had come early.

"You three have fun!" Lily said, looking happier than Harry had seen her in a long time. They all walked out of the dining hall together, Jasmine practically bouncing.

"Thanks for that, Harry," Ollie said once they were out of earshot. "You didn't have to do that."

"No, but I wanted to," Harry said. "I know what it's like when they're going on at you."

If they were trying to rebuild a relationship, he had to put something in, too. Harry thought Ollie sort of deserved it after he’d accused him yesterday.

"Imagine how it's been for me," Jasmine grumbled. "You two are off at Hogwarts all year and I'm all alone!"

Ollie sighed. "I do actually try, you know? School's just really hard for me, I don't know why. Mum and Dad don't get it. Everything always came so easy to them."

Harry looked at him, surprised. Ollie had never opened up to him like this before.

"I know it's not the same," Harry said carefully, "but it wasn't easy for me when I first found out magic was real. I spent so long in the library trying to figure out everything I could. Sometimes I still feel miles behind."

Ollie looked at him funnily, like something had clicked into place that had never occurred to him before. "That must have been difficult. I can't imagine what it's like not knowing about magic."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, it was a weird one."

"I gave him like, 50 books," Jasmine piped in. "And he still wasn't happy! He’d have read the whole library if he could have!"

Ollie snorted. "I was convinced you'd get into Ravenclaw."

"So was I!" Jasmine said with a laugh.

"I thought you'd get into Gryffindor no problem," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ollie said, smiling slightly. "Me and the hat got into a massive fight about where I should go."

"Is that why it took forever?" Harry asked.

"Yeah." He turned to Jasmine. "I wonder where you'll end up?"

"I've already put money on Ravenclaw," Harry said. "Literally. Blaise and Tracey run a betting ring."

"Or maybe you'll be the first Potter from our generation to actually go to Gryffindor, like it's expected!" Ollie said.

"Maybe I'll end up in Slytherin," Jasmine said thoughtfully. "That could be interesting."

"I think it would be sort of fun," Harry said. "We'd all be in the same common room, it would be nice."

"And we could all torment Snape," Ollie said dreamily.

They'd finally reached the Quidditch Pitch.

"So, Jasmine, do you want to beat us with Bludgers like you usually do, or can we play around with the Quaffle?" Harry asked.

She laughed. "The Quaffle's alright."

They threw it about for a little bit, which was a lot better with three people. It actually reflected how Chasers would play on a Quidditch team.

"So how are you two feeling about the meeting with Lockhart next week?" Jasmine asked.

Harry winced. "Not great."

Dumbledore had managed to free Lockhart from the pile of rubble, but the damage had already been done. His legs had been badly injured, and now he couldn't walk properly. As a result, he was suing the Potters, since they weren't sure which twin had caved in the tunnel. Harry and Ollie had decided to back each other up and claim that it was accidental magic, and that they weren't sure who had done it to protect each other. They'd both thought it would be better to keep Harry's wandless magic a secret, especially with the press digging into the whole thing.

The whole Wizarding world had been shocked when it came out Lockhart was a fraud. Lily had used their political power to trigger an exposée on Lockhart that was blasted all over the Prophet. They'd even somehow managed to snag Rita Skeeter, who had a particular talent for striking outrage. Aurors were sniffing around to dredge up evidence for Lockhart's arrest, but he'd covered his tracks well and it was taking quite a while. 

Meanwhile, he'd decided to strike back at the Potters and sue them for a staggering fifty thousand galleons. His reasoning was that he was too badly injured to hunt dark creatures anymore, which would cost him quite a lot of his income. Even though the case seemed flimsy, it had somehow made its way to the Wizarding small claims court, which meant Ollie and Harry had to go see him.

"It'll all be fine," Ollie said uncertainly. "It was accidental magic, and he was threatening us. It'll be ruled as self-defence."

But what if they use Veritaserum ? Was the unspoken worry between the two of them. It was unlikely; courts were reluctant to use Veritaserum on children, especially in cases where the truth seemed cut and dry, since it could harm their development. Still, if it did happen, it wouldn't look good for them if they were lying, even if it still was in self-defence. Not only that, but Harry really didn’t want the whole world to know about his wandless magic. It took away the advantage of having it.

After flying for a couple of hours, they dismounted their brooms and started walking inside. Jasmine ran ahead; she wanted to start reading her History of Magic textbook next.

"I didn't know anyone could get that excited about History of Magic," Ollie grumbled. 

"I wonder if she'll be able to resist Binns," Harry said. "The only other person I've met who can is Hermione, and she still doesn't actually like History of Magic."

"I bet she'll actually enjoy it," Ollie laughed. He turned to Harry and gave him a serious look. "Listen. About that Lockhart stuff. I'll back you up all the way, alright? I swear."

Harry smiled at him. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Still, as Harry stood in his bedroom at Sirius' house a week later, desperately trying to flatten his hair, his stomach was still in knots. 

Sirius opened the door. "You're looking sharp."

"Oi! Remember to knock!" Harry said, half-jokingly.

Sirius laughed. "Sorry, sorry."

He went over and ruffled Harry's hair. He scowled at Sirius.

"I just spent the last ten minutes combing that," he grumbled.

"And did it work?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Harry said sheepishly.

"Exactly."

"Merlin, you've gotten tall!" Sirius said, staring at them in the mirror. "You'll have overtaken me by next summer!"

"Maybe you're just really short," Harry teased. 

"Oi!" Sirius said, playfully shoving him. "It's all the inbreeding, I can't help it."

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the cars outside. 

"It's all going to be okay, Harry," Sirius said softly. "Even if we lose, we can afford 5000 galleons."

"But I don't want to give him the satisfaction," Harry growled. "He tried to Memory Charm me twice! He should be the one getting sued!"

"We still could, but we all thought it would be better not to put you boys through the hassle," Sirius said. "Besides, the DMLE will catch up with Lockhart any day now. He'll be punished without us even having to do anything. Wouldn’t that be better?"

"I guess," Harry muttered with a sigh.

"Ready to go, then?"

"Ready."

They went downstairs, where Adhara was sitting and eating her breakfast. Harry had refused to eat; he hadn't thought he could manage a bite. He was far too nervous.

"Good luck today, Harry!" Adhara said. "Do your best to make that idiot cry ."

Harry laughed. "I'll do my best, Addie."

Sirius took him a different route to the Ministry of Magic this time. They went through the guest entrance, a red telephone box in central London, instead of via the Floo network.

Sirius escorted him to a front desk, where Lily, James and Ollie were all waiting while their wands were weighed. Harry nervously gave his forward to the Ministry clerk. 

After they had been checked, they all made their way through the Ministry to one of the elevators. James seemed to know everybody they walked past.

"Morning, Shacklebolt!"

"Morning, Potter!"

"Bagman, how's the stadium going?"

"Busy work, but it's going to be great!"

Harry was grateful for his dad's constant stream of chatter. The rest of them were all standing in anxious silence, and it helped a little with his nerves.

Eventually, they all reached the small courtroom where the trial was going to be. Harry's heart was hammering as they went inside.

The inside of the room was no bigger than any of Harry’s classrooms. It was quite empty, except for the tall, black-haired judge sitting at the front of the room.

"Ah, Madam Fawcett," James said, going over to shake the judge's hand. "How's your daughter faring at Hogwarts?"

"Quite well, thank you Mr Potter," she said with a smile. “Top of her class in History of Magic!”

“You must be so proud,” James said warmly.

The Potters' lawyer, a tall, weedy man they all just called Pritchett came in and settled down. Soon after, Lockhart and his lawyer came in. 

Lockhart flashed his charming grin at the Judge. He was wearing a pair of silk lilac robes, and his hair had been puffed and perfectly groomed. The only difference to his usual appearance was the crutches he was using to get into the courtroom.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Madam Fawcett said.

The following few hours was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of Harry's life. The lawyers did most of the talking, but Harry and Ollie still had to be questioned at some point. It was then that Harry discovered just how unpleasant Lockhart's lawyer, Mr Browning, could be.

"So what I'm hearing," he said nastily, "is that either one of these boys had a fit of accidental magic. As second-years? Doesn't that show a dangerous level of negligence and a concerning lack of control? It's lucky we're only asking for money and not their arrests. I think it’s ridiculous that these boys are allowed to attend Hogwarts after such a catastrophic incident. "

"And as you know, accidental magic happens to all people in moments of extreme fear," Pritchett countered. "How else should an unarmed young boy react in a situation where his very mind is being threatened by a dangerous wizard?"

The debate went on like that for hours and hours. By the time the two lawyers finished up, Harry felt thoroughly exhausted.

The judge cleared her throat.

"I've come to a decision. Harry James Potter and Oliver Evan Potter are not legally responsible for the injuries to Gilderoy Leonardo Lockhart. No restitution shall be paid to him. The court is dismissed.”

Harry and Ollie looked at each other, grinning, and high-fived. Lockhart scowled, a very unusual look on him.

"Thank you, Madam Fawcett," James said. "We'll be off now. I hope you have a good day."

They quickly left the courtroom, since Lockhart looked like he would explode at any moment.

"We did it!" Sirius said, throwing his hands in the air and laughing as soon as they were out of earshot.

"We did!" James said, clapping Sirius’ shoulder.

"Should we grab Adhara and Jasmine and go out for a celebratory lunch?"

"Yeah!" 

Lily Apparated away to fetch the girls while James, Sirius, Harry and Ollie all went to the restaurant. As he sat at the table while they all made fun of Lockhart, Harry reflected how nice it was to have his whole family in one place.

A few weeks later, Harry sat stirring his cornflakes, lost in thought. Sirius was reading through his mail.

"Remus got the job as Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor!" he said excitedly. "That's amazing!"

"He's Jasmine's godfather, right?" Harry said. He vaguely remembered seeing Remus at birthday parties, but that was mostly it. Sirius nodded.

"He is," Sirius said. "But he travels a lot. He got an Order of Merlin when he rescued your parents when they attacked your mother, and he's used the money to travel the world and advise people about dark creatures, so we don't see him too much."

"That sounds great," Harry said. "Jasmine'll be thrilled."

They fell into silence again, and Harry sighed.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked. "You're quiet this morning."

"You know how me and Ollie have started…not hating each other?"

Sirius nodded.

"Well our birthday is coming up," Harry said. "I'm trying to figure out what I should get him, or if I should get him anything at all."

Sirius frowned. "If you want to, I'd say go for it. I'd say go for something small, like some sweets."

"I'll get him a bunch," Harry decided. "I'm not sure what his favourites are."

"I need to pop into Diagon Alley later today," Sirius said. "I'll take you, if you want."

"Okay."

Later that afternoon, they Flooed into Diagon Alley and Sirius dropped him off at Sugarplum's sweetshop, which was practically brimming with all sorts of Wizarding food. 

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," he said. "Have fun!"

Harry started passing through the aisles, making sure his beanie completely covered his hair. People often mistook him for Ollie and tried to shake his hand, which could be rather irritating. It had been especially bad since all the Lockhart stuff was all over the papers, so Harry really didn't want to be recognised.

After perusing the stock, Harry settled on what he'd get Ollie: a box of Ice Mice, some Sugar Quills and an Acid Pop. Harry personally thought a lollipop that burnt a hole through your tongue wasn't a very pleasant thing to eat, but he'd seen Ollie sucking on them in the common room often enough so it was probably a safe choice.

Harry paid and went outside of the shop just as Sirius was walking up to it. He was holding a bunch of bags that he refused to let Harry see inside of.

"I hope he likes it," Harry said as they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"I'm sure he will," Sirius said.

The next week, Harry sat in his bedroom at Potter Manor, nervously staring at the box on his desk. He wanted to give it to Ollie before everyone came over for the party, just in case something awkward happened. 

He picked it up and went down the hall to Ollie's room, and knocked on the door.

His brother opened it, yawning. His hair was sticking up even more than usual.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No," Ollie said, lifting his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Happy birthday."

"You too." Harry handed the box to Ollie. "I got you this."

"Oh! Thanks!" He stared at the box, as if he wasn't entirely sure how to react. "I actually got something for you, too. Come in and I'll grab it for you."

He opened the door wider and Harry stepped in. As usual, it looked like a bomb had gone off. Piles of clothes littered the floor, and Ollie's desk was so crammed with junk that it was almost unuseable.

Ollie set the gift down in his unmade bed and went over to the corner underneath his poster of his Quidditch team, the Colchester Crows. He picked up a small, rectangular box wrapped in dark blue paper with silver stars.

"This is for you," he said, handing it to Harry. He felt a sudden surge of relief that he'd gotten Ollie something. It would have been really embarrassing if he’d given Harry a gift but Harry didn’t return it.

Harry gently unwrapped the box while Ollie opened his own present. Harry pulled out a long, elegant eagle-feather quill.

"This is gorgeous, Ollie," he said, holding it up to admire it. "Thank you."

"And thanks for these!" Ollie said, grinning at the Acid Pops. "No one ever buys me these, they think it's weird I like them."

Harry laughed. "It is a little bit."

Ollie smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem."

An awkward silence suddenly descended. Neither of them were entirely sure what to say to each other.

"Well - I should go," Harry said, backing away towards the door. "Need to finish packing for Blaise's…"

"Of course!" Ollie said. "And thanks again for this."

"Thanks to you too."

Harry shut the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone a lot better than he’d hoped. 

He retreated to his bedroom and started throwing clothes into a bag. After his party was over, Ms Zabini was taking Blaise, Harry and the rest of their friends to spend a few nights at their Villa in Italy. Harry hated packing, so he'd left it all until the last minute-

"Harry!" Jasmine squealed, bursting into his room, as was their tradition. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks," he said, smiling at her.

"What are you still doing up here?" she asked. "There are donuts waiting for you downstairs! Donuts, Harry!"

"I'll be down in a minute!" he laughed. "I just need to finish packing."

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "My first birthday gift to you is that I'll help you out."

She sat next to Harry and started to fold his pile of clothes into the bag.

"Are the Weasleys coming this year?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure if Ollie and Ron were on good enough terms yet.

"No," Jasmine said, "But not because of Ron and Ollie's fight. They won the Daily Prophet Prize Draw, and they're visiting Bill in Egypt."

"Really?" Harry said. "That sounds great!"

"It seems it! Ginny wrote to me and sent a picture. Apparently they've been visiting cursed tombs and stuff." she sighed, excitement suddenly fading. "I hope Ginny's okay, though, after all that Chamber stuff..."

"It must have been pretty terrible to get enchanted by Voldemort," Harry said with a wince of sympathy. "Anyone would be affected by that."

"Still, she's not really right after all of it, you know?" Jasmine's shoulders drooped. "From what I've picked up, part of the reason they dropped all that money to go to Egypt is to get her to a good Curse Breaker to see if that helps."

"Wow," Harry said. "It makes sense, though."

"I still can't believe you found this long-lost Chamber of Secrets!" Jasmine said, eyes flashing. "And you killed You-Know-Who!"

"The sixteen-year-old version of him," Harry corrected.

"Who is still four years older than you and a super evil wizard!" Jasmine said. "Technically three, since you're thirteen now."

Harry zipped up his bag and stood up.

"Speaking of birthdays," Jasmine said, "let's go get started on your celebration!"

It was the best birthday Harry had ever had. Every party up until now had involved a weird undercurrent of competition between himself and Ollie, and before that, at the Dursleys, Harry had never even had the day acknowledged, let alone celebrated. His parents seemed happier than ever, Jasmine and Adhara were practically bouncing off the walls and Harry and his friends were excitedly anticipating the trip to Blaise's. 

Still, Harry couldn't help but feel a little bad for Ollie. Harry had all his friends there, but without Ron, Ollie was all alone. He also kept getting accosted by Ernie MacMillian, a pompous Hufflepuff from their year that often got invited to Potter parties. He looked a bit miserable, but was clearly trying hard not to show it.

So, when Harry decided to force his friends into a game of Quidditch, he made a decision.

"Hey, Ollie," he said, "come join us for the Quidditch match!"

All of Harry's friends gave him confused looks. Ollie, on the other hand, practically lit up.

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah!" Harry said. "It saves Neville from playing, too, so everyone can leave this party in one piece. Unless you want to play, Neville?"

Neville vigorously shook his head. "No thank you!"

"What about me and Hermione?" Blaise asked with mock offence. "Why can't we get out of it?"

"Yeah!" Hermione said.

"Because unlike Neville, you won't die on a broomstick." Harry said, rolling his eyes. "No offence, Neville."

"None taken!" Neville said quickly. "I know enough about Quidditch to referee, though. From the ground, please."

"Let's go then."

As they walked down to the Quidditch Pitch, Blaise and Tracey fell into step with Harry.

"Did you hit your head in that Chamber or something?" Blaise muttered. "Because this is still the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

He pointed at Ollie, who was walking with Neville and Adhara.

"I just feel bad for him, you know?" Harry said. "He hasn't got anyone else here. Besides, he's surprisingly not that awful."

“So you guys have been talking, then?” Tracey asked. "I know I said go for it, but I never thought you actually would . Tell me everything!"

"Well he actually approached me," Harry said. 

"Really!" Blaise said, leaning in closer.

"I know!" Harry said. "We've not really had, like, a deep conversation or anything really. But we play Quidditch sometimes, and we actually bought each other gifts for once. I don't mind it, to be honest. It’s easier than watching my back constantly to make sure he doesn’t hex me, that’s for sure. Besides, Jasmine is happy. That's definitely the best part."

He glanced further down, where Jasmine and Hermione were laughing about something.

"Still!" Blaise said. "It's so weird ."

Harry laughed. "Believe me, I know!"

After a few games of four-on-four Quidditch, the sky was beginning to darken and it was time for Harry and his friends to leave for Ms Zabini's house. He hugged his parents, Sirius, and Jasmine goodbye, and even exchanged one last 'Happy Birthday' with Ollie before they left. 

Luckily for Harry, the Zabinis had somehow gotten their house connected to the British Floo Network, so Harry didn't have to travel via International Portkey. Still, the transport took a lot longer than it did within the UK, so Harry still ended up feeling a bit nauseous from all the spinning through fireplaces before the Floo Network spat him out. 

Harry looked around in wonder. He was in a large, gilded living room with large windows looking out into the grounds around the villa. Tall, sculped trees waved gently in the breeze. There wasn’t a cloud in the pale blue sky.

"Like it?" Blaise said.

"This place is beautiful," Harry said, awestruck.

Ms Zabini smiled. "Why thank you."

Moments later, Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace, also looking a little green. She seemed just as impressed as Harry with the beautiful house, and started peppering Ms Zabini with questions about the architecture. 

After they had all gathered in the living room, Ms Zabini cleared her throat. 

"Blaise, why don't you show your friends around?" she suggested. "Then they can see where they'll be sleeping and set aside their luggage."

He smiled. "Will do."

"My husband Antonio will be here in an hour," Ms Zabini said. "He works late at the Italian Ministry. If you need anything, do let me know!"

She gave them one last smile before sweeping out.

After she'd gone away, Harry bent in close to Blaise.

"When did he come into the picture?" Harry whispered.

"They got married in early June after a whirlwind romance." Blaise rolled his eyes.

"While you were Petrified?" Tracey asked. "Doesn't that…"

"Upset me?" Blaise asked. "Honestly, I'm not fussed. Mother has enough weddings. I'll catch the next one."

Harry noticed how Blaise glanced around nervously as he said that.

Blaise began to show them around the Villa's different rooms. Harry was impressed; it seemed as if every room was more impressive than the last.

Finally, Blaise showed them to their different bedrooms. 

"Harry, Neville, you two are in here," he said. "Hermione, Tracey, you're across the hallway. I'm right next door to you. Now, anything you want to do first?"

"Your pool is amazing, Blaise," Tracey said. "What if we all went for a little swim, if that's alright?"

"That does sound fun," Neville added.

Blaise shot Harry a subtle, questioning look. He was the only one who knew how uncomfortable Harry got around water. Harry gave him a quick nod.

"Why not?" Blaise said. "Let's all get changed, then."

After everyone was in their swimming costumes, they all made their way through the villa and back outside, where the large pool sat. 

As they walked over, Neville fell into step with Harry.

"Guess what?" he said. "Ollie apologised to me earlier!"

"Really?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows with shock.

"Yeah!" Neville said. "For all the horrible stuff he and Draco did to me in first year. I think he feels really bad about it."

"You don't have to accept his apology, by the way," Harry said quickly. "I know he and I are trying to sort things out, but you guys are free to go on hating him. I completely get it."

"Nah," Neville said, shrugging. "I'm as sick of the fighting as you are. It'll be nice to actually have a peaceful year at Hogwarts for once."

Harry snorted. "Yeah."

He glanced over at their friends, who were walking ahead. "Do you think he'll apologise to them, too?"

"Probably," Neville said. "I think he's just too scared of them to do it yet."

Harry smiled. "They can be pretty terrifying."

"You've got that right," he agreed. 

They had finally reached the pool. Harry and his friends all set their towels aside before going to the water's edge.

Blaise dove in headfirst, while Tracey shoved Hermione in, before getting shoved in by Neville. 

"Thanks for the revenge, Neville!" Hermione shouted. 

"No problem!" Neville said, jumping in too.

Harry stood waist deep in the shallow end, watching this all happen with a smile. A sudden surge of determination overcame him. Last summer in France, Harry had refused to put his head underwater. He was still too scared of drowning. But now, he wanted to do it.

Before he lost his nerve, Harry ducked his head under. He only kept his face in for a few seconds before coming back up, gasping and smiling. He'd done it!

"Well done, Harry!" Blaise said, shooting Harry a thumbs-up from the other side of the pool. He grinned back.

"Hey guys, if I come to the deep end, don't duck me or anything, okay?" Harry called. "I'm not a strong swimmer!"

"We won't!" Tracey called back. Harry made his way deeper in, making sure he had a safe grip on the barrier.

"Hey Harry, can you toss some coins for us while we dive for them?" Hermione asked. 

"Sure!"

Harry grabbed one of the Knuts Blaise had left by the poolside and started throwing them as far as he could. The others all raced to the bottom to try and grab it first. It turned into quite the competition with all sorts of sabotage and lots and lots of laughter.

By the time they'd finished, they were all exhausted from swimming and the Quidditch earlier. As Harry changed, though, he didn't immediately flop into bed, as much as he wanted to. Instead, he and Neville grabbed their blankets and pillows and dragged them into Blaise's room, which was just as grand as the rest of the house. The girls were already in there with Blaise.

They all huddled around, joking and telling stories until everyone eventually dropped off to sleep.

As Harry laid there, listening to the sounds of Neville's snoring, he reflected that he couldn't have had a more perfect birthday.

Chapter Text

The second half of Harry’s summer was just as lovely as the first. After his holiday in Italy, he spent a lot of time flying with Jasmine and Ollie when he stayed at the Potters. They seemed to have formed a sort of routine, which Harry enjoyed. In the time he spent at Sirius’, Harry also liked to go out and visit Tracey and Hermione, who were getting excited for third year.

Jasmine also spent the rest of the summer practically bouncing off the walls with excitement for the coming term. 

“I’ve been waiting so long for this, and it’s finally happening!” she said the night before September 1st, as she tried on her Hogwarts robes, which were still a bit big on her. She twirled her wand around jubilantly.

“She’s gotten so big, hasn’t she?” Lily said wistfully as Jasmine ran back up to her room.

Harry was feeling similarly nostalgic, although she was still the same old, excitable Jasmine he’d always known, if a little bigger.

The next day, Lily and James dropped the three of them off at the station. Sirius hadn’t been able to make it this year, since he’d been dragged to some meeting about his inheritance that he couldn’t skip.

Harry, Ollie and Jasmine all put their luggage away and went back to their parents for the goodbyes.

“You’ll look after her?” James said with a hint of nervousness as Lily fussed over Jasmine and Ollie.

“Of course,” Harry said, giving his dad a reassuring nod.

“Good man,” James said, clapping Harry on the back. “Have a good term!”

After Harry said goodbye to his mother, Ollie broke off from them while Harry took Jasmine to his compartment, where his friends were already sitting.

“Jasmine!” Hermione said warmly. The two of them always got on well because of their shared love of books. “You’re finally coming to Hogwarts! How do you feel?”

“I’m so excited!” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I can’t wait to look through the library! Mum said it’s one of the oldest and most advanced ones in magical Britain!”

Maybe even bitter old Madam Pince will like her , Harry thought, smiling to himself.

They all crowded around the window and waved goodbye to their families as the train pulled away. Harry noticed both his parents were looking a little teary-eyed. He supposed it was hard; their youngest was leaving, after all.

“So, Jasmine, do you know anyone in your year?” Tracey asked.

“Not really,” Jasmine said. “Most of my magical friends are either older or younger than me.”

“Well Daphne’s little sister Astoria is starting at Hogwarts this year, too,” Tracey said. “If you want, I can introduce you two.”

“That would be great, thanks!” Jasmine said, brightening up slightly. “Can we do it now?”

“Of course!” Tracey said, putting a guiding arm around Jasmine’s shoulder. “I saw where they were sitting earlier when I got on the train. Harry, let’s go.”

“I’ll catch up with the rest of you in a bit!” Harry said, following the girls out of the compartment.

Tracey went up a couple of doors and knocked. 

“Come in!” someone called. Tracey pushed the door open.

Inside were the three Slytherin girls in Harry’s year: Pansy Parkinson, who Harry wasn’t a fan of, Millicent Bulstrode, who he didn’t mind, and Daphne Greengrass. Next to her was a little girl Harry didn’t recognise, who looked a lot like Daphne.

“Ah, Tracey!” Pansy said. “Good summer?”

“It was great, thanks,” she said. “And you?”

Pansy began to go on a long rant about a trip she’d taken to Majorca. Harry could tell by the look on Tracey’s face that she was really regretting asking. He tried not to smile; if there was one thing Harry knew, it was that Pansy loved the sound of her own voice.

Eventually, Daphne broke in, clearing her throat.

“So what brings you three here?” she asked, tucking her shiny blonde hair behind her ear. “And who’s this?”

“This is Jasmine,” Harry said, “My sister.”

Jasmine gave the girls a small wave.

“She’s going to be in the same year as Astoria,” Tracey added. “I thought the two of them might like to meet.”

Astoria grinned. “Well, it’s good to meet you, Jasmine. How about the two of us go find some other people our age? I know a compartment with some other first-years, but Daphne wouldn’t let me leave.”

She glared at her sister, who glared right back.

“Oh, that sounds fun!” Jasmine said eagerly.

“See you later, Daphne!” Astoria said, quickly jumping up and scurrying out of the compartment before her sister had time to protest.

“Bye, Harry!” Jasmine chirped, following Astoria. 

“Have fun!” he called, turning back to the girls.

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Astoria’s always been a bit of a spitfire. Never listens to me.”

Harry grinned. “Her and Jasmine’ll get on nicely, then.”

They started to make their way back to the compartment, and Harry turned to Tracey.

“They’re pretty nice,” he said. “We should talk to them more often.”

Tracey grinned. “Do you have a crush ?”

“No!” Harry protested.

“Who?” she asked, leaning in closer. “Millie or Daphne? Or is it Pansy ?”

“I do not have a crush!” Harry protested. “I don’t want to date anyone! I just want a peaceful, drama-free year at Hogwarts where I don’t have to deal with the fallout of some Dark Lord trying to murder my brother!”

“Even if You-Know-Who isn’t involved, you think there won’t be drama?” Tracey said with a laugh. “Please. It’s Hogwarts.”

After a long train ride, they finally arrived at Hogsmeade station. Harry felt a glimmer of excitement; this was the first year he’d get to visit the village. He and his friends had spent hours excitedly discussing the different shops and what they’d do on their trip. Harry was particularly looking forward to going to Honeydukes Sweet Shop - Sirius had told him all about how he and his friends had snuck in there all the time, and Harry was determined to figure out how he’d managed it.

As they walked across the platform, a booming voice echoed over their heads.

“Firs’ years!” Hagrid called. “Firs’ years come with me!”

Harry watched as Jasmine, Astoria and a couple of other girls fought their way over the sea of students to get to Hagrid. Harry smiled.

“She’s going to love it,” he said to Blaise.

“Definitely,” Blaise agreed. “I still remember taking the boats across. It was wicked!”

They all got into one of the carriages, which started trotting forward.

“Did we ever figure out what the invisible horses are?” Neville asked nervously.

Hermione clapped a hand to her forehead. “I completely forgot about that! I’ll add that to my list of things to research.”

“Maybe we can ask about it in Care of Magical Creatures?” Harry suggested. “Speaking of that, what are you guys taking again?”

“Divination and Muggle Studies,” Blaise said.

“Same here,” Tracey said, “Although Snape tried to fight me on Muggle Studies, with my muggle mum. He couldn’t stop me, though!”

“As if anyone could stop you,” Blaise laughed.

“I’m taking Divination, too, but with Care of Magical Creatures instead,” Neville said.

“Same here, Neville,” Harry said. “As well as Arithmancy.”

“Look at you, taking three subjects!” Tracey said teasingly. “You little swot.”

“How can you say that with Hermione sitting right here?” Harry asked. “What was it you’re taking?”

“Everything,” she said primly.

“But Hermione, I swear that doesn’t work with the schedule,” Blaise said, frowning. 

“They figured it out,” she said with a shrug.

“But aren’t five subjects a lot?” Neville asked, looking a bit concerned. “How are you going to cope?”

“I’ll manage,” she said in a voice that didn’t leave room for argument. “Now back to those horse things. Can you describe them for me again, Neville?”

Harry got the sense that Hermione was trying to change the subject, but didn’t fight her on it.

Once they reached Hogwarts, McGonagall pulled Hermione away from the rest of the group.

“Do you think she’s in trouble?” Neville asked, casting a worried look at her back.

“How can she be this early in the year?” Tracey said. “Besides, it’s Hermione . She never gets into trouble.”

They made their way into the Great Hall and all sat down at their respective tables. Harry noticed Ollie was sitting with Theo Nott again, and was steadfastly ignoring a grumpy-looking Draco.

“Can they get a move on?” Tracey complained. “I’m starving!”

“I just want to know where Jasmine’s going,” Harry said. “The waiting is killing me!”

“What if she goes to Hufflepuff?” Blaise said. “Have you considered that one?”

“Actually, no,” Harry said. “I could see it, I guess…”

Their conversation died out as McGonagall led the queue of first-years into the hall. Harry quickly managed to pick out Jasmine’s black braids out of the bunch and kept a close eye on her as they all walked to the front of the hall. When she noticed Harry looking at her, he shot her a thumbs up.

Waiting for McGonagall to eventually get to ‘Potter’ was torture; Harry felt like the register was going on forever. He didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the sorting, except for when Astoria was sorted into Slytherin. 

Eventually, ‘Potter, Jasmine’ was called, and she stepped forward and sat on the stool. Harry glanced over the table and saw Ollie watching him, and they both exchanged nervous smiles.

Her sorting took a while - not as long as Harry or Ollie, but it wasn’t quick either. Eventually, the tear in the hat opened up and shouted “RAVENCLAW!”

The Ravenclaw table burst into applause, as did Harry and Ollie. Jasmine walked over, a wide grin on her face.

“Told you she’d go there!” Harry shouted at his brother. Ollie rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Harry didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the Sorting, and was pleased when the food was finally served.

“Did you see the paper yesterday?” Tracey said.

“No,” Harry said, as he started tucking into his food. “Why?”

“Lockhart got arrested!” she said gleefully. “His trial’s in a month.”

“Nice!” Harry said. 

Both of them turned to look at Blaise.

“I have learnt from my mistakes and will listen to you guys when you tell me people are frauds from now on,” he mumbled.

“Good,” Tracey said, smirking. “Hopefully the new DADA Professor will be a little better than the last two.”

“Oh, he is!” Harry said. “He’s friends with my dad and Sirius. Apparently he tours the world and advises people about dark creatures or something.”

“Well, that’s already a start,” Tracey said.

Soon after, their food vanished from the Hall and Dumbledore stood to his feet to make the usual start-of-term announcements, including the introduction of Remus as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Harry made sure to clap loudly amongst the scattered applause; he noticed Jasmine and Ollie doing the same. 

There was also another staffing change. Hagrid would be taking over as the Care of Magical Creatures Professor. 

“I’ve got to remember to ask him about Neville’s weird horse things, then,” Harry muttered to Blaise as the applause died down. 

Finally, Dumbledore finished his announcements and sent them all off to their separate common rooms. Harry was so exhausted that he barely paid attention to Snape’s start of term speech before stumbling upstairs and dropping off to sleep.

The next morning, when Snape gave out their timetables for the term, Harry was excited to see that he had Arithmancy first.

“I hope it’s good,” Harry said. “I’ve already read through the first few chapters of my textbook. Did you know the number seven has intense magical properties?”

“Harry, it’s too early for this,” Blaise groaned.

“Good luck with Arithmancy, though,” Tracey said. “I heard Professor Vector can be really strict.”

“Hopefully it’s alright,” Harry said, hurriedly eating his breakfast. “I’m going to head out early. Me and Hermione are going to walk there together.”

Tracey frowned. “But me and Blaise have Muggle Studies first. Wouldn’t she be going to that?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe there are multiple classes for it? I’m not sure. Either way, see you in Transfiguration!”

He got up from the bench and slung his bag over his shoulder to go wait in the Entrance Hall. While he was standing there, Jasmine and a crowd of other first-years left the Great Hall. She waved at him.

“Enjoying Ravenclaw?” he asked.

“It’s great!” she said happily. “The whole common room is full of bookshelves, I love it!”

“What have you got now?”

“Charms,” she said, after checking her timetable.

“Be careful of the false step on the second-floor staircase!” Harry said as she walked off.

“Thanks!” she shouted back.

Moments later, Hermione came out of the Great Hall and they started making the trek to the fifth floor, where Arithmancy was held.

“I’m so looking forward to this!” Hermione said. “I’ve already looked through the textbook twice-”

“ Twice ?” Harry said in disbelief. He’d never know how Hermione managed it.

“Well I wanted to fully understand it!” she said indignantly.

There weren’t a lot of other students taking Arithmancy. The only other Slytherins were Daphne and Theo, while the only other Gryffindor apart from Hermione was Lavender Brown. There were just as few Hufflepuffs; the class seemed to be mostly dominated by Ravenclaw students.

“Come in!” a voice called from inside. They all entered the classroom, where Harry took a seat next to Hermione.

After everyone was seated, Professor Vector stood up. She was a severe-looking woman, with beady brown eyes and grey-threaded black hair that was swept back into a tight bun. 

“Good morning, students!” she said with a clap of her hands.. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Professor Vector.”

She scanned the class imperiously.

“I take this subject very seriously,” she said sternly. “And I expect you all to do the same. I will not tolerate troublemakers. I expect you to put your all into Arithmancy. If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave any time.”

Nobody got up, although a few students cast nervous looks at each other.

“Now, onto the Arithmancy!” she said briskly. “Please turn to page three in your textbooks, we will be starting with Numerology.”

Professor Vector had been telling the truth; Arithmancy was difficult. Even though they’d only spent the first lesson translating their names into numbers, the theory behind it made Harry’s head spin. 

“Maybe I should have just done Muggle Studies like Blaise and Tracey,” Harry said doubtfully to Hermione, but didn’t get a response. “Hermione?”

“I’m here!” she called, running out of the classroom. 

“But you were with me a second ago,” Harry said, frowning.

“Forgot my book,” she said breathlessly. “Anyway, I’ve got History of Magic, so we really need to get moving.”

“Alright…” Harry said as they started walking through the corridors. 

After another complicated and confusing lesson - Professor McGonagall had just begun teaching them about Animagi - Harry and his friends made their way to lunch.

“See, I told you Hermione had Muggle Studies!” Tracey said triumphantly.

Harry frowned. “What are you on about? She was sitting next to me for Arithmancy and everything. I know she was there.”

“Are you pulling my leg?” Tracey asked. “She sat with me and Blaise.”

“Yeah, Harry,” Blaise said, looking at him worriedly.

“Maybe we can ask her later,” he said, “because I swear I’m not making this up!”

“I guess,” Tracey said doubtfully.

After they finished eating, the third-year Slytherins trooped up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, which Professor Lupin hadn’t arrived to yet. Everyone got their books out, chattering about what he could possibly teach them.

“He can’t be any worse than Lockhart,” Tracey said. “It’ll be nice to not spend a year watching him and Ollie act out book passages.”

“Or Quirrell,” Blaise added. “Too much theory for my liking. He was scared of his own shadow.”

“And Professor Lupin doesn’t have Voldemort stuck to the back of his head as far as we know,” Harry said dryly. “That’s always a positive.”

The classroom door opened and everybody fell silent. Professor Lupin smiled at them and set his briefcase down on the table.

“What a shabbily dressed man!” Draco hissed, loudly enough that Professor Lupin surely heard. Harry scowled at the back of his head.

“Good afternoon!” Professor Lupin said. “Please put all your books back in your bag. All you need for today is a wand.”

Everyone obeyed, giving each other curious looks. This already looked like it was going to be better than the last two years of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“Now, all of you follow me!” he ordered.

He led them out of the classroom and up two flights of stairs, to the fourth floor corridor. It was remarkably near their hideout. Harry, Blaise and Tracey sent each other worried looks; they didn’t want anyone finding out about it.

Instead of going into the broom cupboard where it was hidden, however, Professor Lupin took them into an abandoned classroom. It was almost completely deserted, except for a wobbling trunk sitting in the corner. Everyone backed as far away from it as possible.

“Now, there’s nothing to worry about,” Professor Lupin said cheerily. “That’s only a boggart. They like dark, enclosed spaces like that trunk. Now, who can tell me what exactly is a boggart?”

Millicent put her hand up.

“It’s a sort of shape-shifter that turns into whatever you’re the most scared of,” she said.

“Excellent!” Professor Lupin said. “Now, since that boggart is still in the trunk, it hasn’t actually assumed a form yet, since it doesn’t know what will frighten whoever is on the other side most. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when it’s alone, but when I let it out, it will assume somebody’s worst fear. However, the amount of us here gives us an advantage. Any idea what that is, Harry?”

“Uh,” Harry said, racking his brains, “It won’t be sure what shape to be since there’s so many of us?”

“Precisely,” Professor Lupin. “A tip: it’s always best to have company when tackling a Boggart to confuse him. Now, the way to defeat a Boggart is simple - laughter. You must simply force it to take a shape you find amusing using the Riddikulus Charm. Now, everybody say it after me: riddikulus!”

“Riddikulus!” Everyone chanted. 

“Good!” Professor Lupin said. “Now, time for the difficult part. This is where I’ll be needing your help. Tracey, could you please step forward?”

Tracey walked away from Harry’s side nervously.

“Now, Tracey, what is the thing you’d say frightens you the most?” Professor Lupin asked.

“Inferi,” she said quietly. Harry and Blaise both winced; she didn’t like to talk about it, but they both knew Tracey’s aunt had been killed by an Inferius during the war. It made sense she was scared of them.

“An understandable fear to have,” Professor Lupin said soothingly. “Now, how could we take some of the fear out of that?”

“Put it in a dress, maybe?” Tracey suggested.

“Brilliant,” Professor Lupin said with a warm smile. “Now, if Tracey is successful, the boggart should turn its attention to the rest of you. I’d like you all to think about your greatest fear, and how you might make it comical…”

Harry thought for a moment. What was he most scared of? The Dursleys? No. He hated his relatives, but he wasn’t exactly scared of them…

The more Harry thought about it, though, he realised he was most scared of not being wanted. But how would he make that funny? How would that even manifest as a Boggart?

“Everybody ready?” Professor Lupin called. Harry’s stomach lurched; he wasn’t, but he didn’t want to say so since everybody else seemed fine…

“On the count of three,” Professor Lupin said, pointing his wand at the trunk. “One, two, three!”

He shot a jet of sparks at the trunk’s lock and it burst open. Out of it climbed a pale, bony creature, dressed in tattered grey robes. 

“R-riddikulus!” Tracey squeaked. A cracking noise echoed through the classroom, and the inferi was suddenly wearing a floor-length pink ballgown. It tripped onto the ground.

“Theodore! Forward!” Professor Lupin said as everyone chuckled. Tracey fell back next to Blaise and Harry, looking a little shaken.

When Theo stepped forward, the Inferius turned into a shiny, disembodied axe, dripping with blood.

“Riddikulus!” Theo shouted. The axe turned into a plastic toy, which squeaked as it hit the ground and rolled in Pansy’s direction. Suddenly, a massive python was hissing on the floor.

“Riddikulus!” She jabbed her wand at the snake, and it turned into a garden hose, water spurting out of the end.

“Draco!” Professor Lupin called. He darted past Pansy and the Boggart morphed into a woman. She had curly black hair and a wild look on her face. Harry shivered as he recognised the woman; it was Bellatrix Lestrange. She let out a high, cackling laugh-

“Riddikulus!” Draco yelped, and Bellatrix was suddenly wearing tall stilts and wobbling about. 

With a crack, the Boggart turned into a spider, then a stormcloud, then a doxy. 

“It’s confused!” Professor Lupin shouted. “Harry, you next!”

Harry stepped forward, heart hammering.

Crack! The boggart turned, surprisingly, into himself. Boggart-Harry frantically waved his wand around, but nothing happened. With a sinking feeling, Harry finally realised what this was - him as a Squib.

“Riddikulus!” he shouted. Red streamers shot out of the end of his mimics wand.

“Blaise!” Professor Lupin shouted. Harry stepped back, relieved, as his friend took his place.

The Boggart changed from Harry into Ms Zabini, who had green-tinged skin and weeping sores all over her face. She looked deathly ill.

“Riddikulus!” Blaise jabbed his wand and Ms Zabini was back to her usual self, doing a tap-dance. She moved all the way in front of where Ollie was standing.

Crack! Bellatrix Lestrange was back, pointing her wand at Ollie’s throat. She was only there for a split second, however, before Professor Lupin stepped in front.

Crack! A large silver orb hung in the air.

“Riddikulus!” The orb fell to the ground, a dead cockroach.

“Come on, Vincent, finish him!” Professor Lupin shouted. 

Vince stepped forward, and a large shark with bloody teeth floated in the air.

“Riddikulus!” Vince shouted, and the shark became a flopping goldfish on the classroom floor. He snorted, and the Boggart exploded into a wisp of smoke.

“Excellent!” Professor Lupin said. “Five points of each of you who took on the Boggart, and five points to Millicent and Harry for answering those questions correctly at the start of class.” 

Talking excitedly, the class all left.

“That was wicked,” Blaise said, eyes wide.

“Still, I hope we never have to do it again,” Tracey said, shivering.

“Agreed,” Harry said. 

Someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. It was Ollie.

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute,” Harry said to Blaise and Tracey.

“What is it?” Harry asked as his friends walked ahead.

Ollie hesitated. “It’s…about your Boggart.”

“Don’t say anything please?” Harry said wearily. “It’s just a stupid, embarassing fear…”

“No, I get it!” Ollie said quickly. “I just wanted to say sorry again for all those times I called you a Squib. It must have been really hurtful, and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Oh.” Harry had been half-expecting Ollie to make fun of him. “Thanks I guess?”

“I’m just sorry. Really sorry.”

Harry suddenly felt a hot surge of irritation.

“Look, you’ve already apologised to me loads,” Harry snapped, “But you haven’t said anything to those two.”

He pointed at Tracey and Blaise.

“You owe them as much of an apology as you do me,” Harry said. “Possibly more. You were horrible to them too, you know”

“Right,” Ollie said, wincing. “Sorry. I’ve been meaning to, really. It’s just - no offence, but I’m a bit terrified of the two of them.”

Despite his slight irritation, Harry snorted. “I can see why.”

“I will apologise to them, though,” Ollie promised. They fell into silence as they walked further down the corridor.

“Why do you think Professor Lupin didn’t let me take on the Boggart?” Ollie asked hesitantly. “It was Bellatrix Lestrange, I knew that, but he let Draco take her on. Why not me?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry said. “But it looked like he was already going to move in front of you anyway, though. It probably wasn’t just because of her.”

“Still, why? Do you think he thinks I’m weak or something?”

“No way!” Harry said. “He’s probably got his reasons. You should ask him yourself if it’s really bothering you.”

“I think I will,” Ollie said. “Thanks Harry.”

They reached the History of Magic classroom and went their separate ways.

“Advanced warning,” Harry whispered to his friends, “Ollie’s going to apologise to you.”

“Really?” Tracey said, raising her eyebrows.

“This should be interesting,” Blaise said with a smirk. 

Interesting wasn’t the word Harry would use to describe it. He just hoped something wouldn’t go horribly wrong between the three of them, but it was out of his hands. Blaise and Tracey were his priority; if something started up between the three of them, Harry would be on their side.

He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Chapter Text

The next day, Harry got to experience two more new classes; Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. He and his friends were all looking forward to Divination the most, since it was one of the only lessons they’d all get to have together.

Unfortunately, actual Divination didn’t live up to what Harry was expecting.

First of all, he and his friends had to spend ten minutes trekking to find the tower Divination was held in, which was stuffy and dimly lit. Then, they met Professor Trelawney, who started the class with a bunch of ominous pronouncements that made Hermione scoff before she got them to try reading tea leaves. Harry was paired with Blaise, who seemed just as confused about exactly how they were meant to go about that as he was.

“It kind of looks like…a house?” Blaise said hesitantly.

“Mine looks like a brown blob,” Harry said. He took a glance over Blaise’s teacup. “So does yours.”

“A house-shaped blob!” Blaise said indignantly. “What does that mean?”

“Erm…you’re going to have a large, prosperous family line,” Harry said. 

Suddenly, Harry noticed Professor Trelawney snatch up Ollie’s cup and gasp.

“Oh, my dear, this is not a happy cup!” she said dramatically. “Why…you have the falcon, which symbolises a deadly enemy…”

“Well everyone knows that,” Hermione scoffed. Professor Trelawney glared at her.

“Well they do! Everyone knows about him and You-Know-Who!”

Professor Trelawney went back to looking into the cup and muttering ominous pronouncements. Suddenly, she screamed. Harry saw Neville jump, smashing another cup.

“My dear boy!” she said, putting a hand over her heart. Ollie looked up at her nervously. “You have the Grim!”

Most of the class gasped. Harry sat there, confused, but knew it couldn’t be good.

“It is an omen - an omen of death!” she wailed. By now all of the blood had drained from Ollie’s face.

Hermione huffed and got up from her seat, snatching the teacup from Professor Trelawney and peering into it. 

“It doesn’t look like a Grim to me,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Harry and Blaise exchanged shocked looks. Hermione was never rude to teachers.

Professor Trelawney frowned at her, face lined with clear irritation. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, dear, but I can sense very little of the aura around you. No aptitude for Divination whatsoever.”

The two women glared at each other. Hermione’s hands were set on her hips in the way that Harry knew meant business.

Eventually, Professor Trelawney gave up and swept away to the front of the classroom.

“Well, I think it’s best if we ended the lesson here for today,” she said, pulling her shawls around herself. “Pack your things…you may leave…”

Harry started to put Unfogging the Future back into his bag, watching as Hermione threw her book in with reckless abandon.

“What did that book ever do to you?” Tracey asked jokingly. If looks could kill, Harry was half-certain Tracey would have died on the spot.

As they left the classroom, Harry saw Theo and Ollie huddled in the corner, whispering.

“You don’t think she’s right, do you?” Ollie whispered. “That I am in danger?”

“Of course you aren’t!” Hermione snapped, making Ollie flinch. “Don’t listen to a word that barmy old fool says. Honestly!”

She started to storm off down the corridor, Neville running to keep up.

“I’m getting the sense that Hermione’s not a big fan of Divination,” Harry said faintly.

“Yeah…” Blaise said, staring after her with wide eyes.

That afternoon, as Harry went to his Care of Magical Creatures lesson, Hermione still seemed to be in a terrible mood. She was snapping at everyone and, according to Neville, had gotten into a massive argument with Lavender Brown at lunch. 

“Hopefully we’re studying something cute and fluffy today,” Neville whispered. “Maybe that’ll sort her out.”

“Maybe,” Harry said doubtfully. Harry thought if Hermione was exposed to anything ‘cute and fluffy’ any time soon, she’d be more likely to strangle it.

They finished making their way down to Hagrid’s Hut, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest where a few other students were already waiting. Ollie was already there, chatting away with Hagrid, and Draco was scowling at him from a distance. 

“Everyone follow me!” Hagrid called. They all obliged as he took them to an empty paddock about five minutes from his Hut.

“Now the firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books-”

“How?” Draco asked, pulling out his copy of A Monster Book of Monsters and rolling his eyes. Harry, as much as he hated to, had to agree - he’d instantly taped his book shut after it had nearly killed the shop assistant in Flourish and Blotts who’d given it to him. 

Hagrid’s face fell. “Hasn’ anyone bin able ter open their books?”

The whole class shook their heads.

“You’ve got ter stroke ‘em!” Hagrid said. He took Hermione’s book, ripped the tape off and ran a finger down its spine. It shivered and fell open quietly.

 “Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Draco sneered. “We should have stroked them! Why didn’t we guess!” 

“I — I thought they were funny,” Hagrid said uncertainly. Harry was starting to feel quite bad for him. He clearly meant well.

“Oh, tremendously funny!” Draco shouted. “Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!”

“Shut up, Draco,” Ollie growled. Harry, Neville and Hermione all gave each other surprised looks. 

“Righ’ then,” Hagrid said, clearing his throat nervously. “Well, now yeh’ve got yer books, now we need yer creatures. Hang on…”

He quickly disappeared into the forest.

“God, this place is going to the dogs,” said Malfoy loudly. “That oaf teaching classes, my father’ll have a fit-”

“Draco, can you shut your flipping mouth for five minutes ?!” Ollie snapped. “No one cares!”

An affronted-looking Draco opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Lavender Brown’s excited squeal.

“Ooh!” she pointed towards the opposite end of the paddock, where Hagrid was leading a dozen strange creatures. They were huge, with the bodies of horses and the necks and heads of eagles. Harry shivered as their beady eyes roved over the students. 

“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid said as he chained the creatures to the paddocks. “Gorgeous, aren’ they?”

Harry did have to admit there was something rather beautiful about the Hippogriff’s sleek feathers and shiny eagle eyes.

Hagrid began to lecture them about Hippogriffs and their strict code of manners. Harry listened closely; he didn’t want to get hit by those sharp-looking claws. 

“Anyone want ter go first?” Hagrid asked. Everyone immediately backed away and his face fell.

“I’ll do it,” Ollie said, stepping forward resolutely. A thunderous look crossed Draco’s face.

Harry watched carefully as Ollie crossed over the fence of the paddock and bowed to the Hippogriff. To his surprise, it actually bowed back .

The lesson got even more interesting when Hagrid actually allowed Ollie to ride the Hippogriff. It did one lap of the paddock with Ollie on its back before hitting the floor. Ollie quickly dismounted, looking slightly sick. Still, everyone clapped. 

“Who else wants a go?” Hagrid asked. Harry, who was a lot more curious now, hopped over the wall of the paddock with Neville and Hermione and went over to a chestnut-coloured Hippogriff. Harry’s heart was hammering in his ears as he bowed, but eventually, the Hippogriff did bow back.

“Aren’t you gorgeous?” Hermione said, rubbing the beak of their Hippogriff.

“You were right,” Harry said faintly to Neville. “That did put her in a better mood.”

He wouldn't exactly describe a Hippogriff as ‘cute and fluffy’ though. More ‘elegant but murder-y’.

Suddenly, Harry heard the sounds of raised voices. Draco and Ollie had gotten into some sort of argument.

“Oh, you think you’re so much better than me now, Potter, don’t you?!” Draco spat, quivering with rage. “You think you’re so good, just because you’re able to ride that great, ugly brute…”

“No!” Ollie shouted, throwing himself on top of Draco. Moments later, the grey Hippogriff’s talons slashed across Ollie’s back, throwing him and Draco into the grass. Hagrid grabbed the Hippogriff’s collar and started dragging it away from the two boys.

“You’ve broken my shoulder, Potter!” Draco yelled, trying to get out from under Ollie. Theo rushed to Ollie’s side, as did Harry. Blood was blossoming out of great slashes on his back.

“Oh, get over yourself Draco!” Harry shouted, helping Ollie out of the dirt. Draco quickly scrambled up, brushing himself off and clutching his shoulder with exaggerated groans of pain.

Ollie was moaning as Harry and Theo dragged him upright.

“Are you alrigh’, Ollie?” Hagrid asked, scooping him up as if he were no heavier than a puppy. 

“Fine,” Ollie gasped, looking remarkably pale.

“Is he alright? That thing just tried to kill me!” Draco said indignantly. “My shoulder may be dislocated!”

“Lets get yeh both up ter the Hospital Wing,” Hagrid said, looking rather shaken. He started walking up to the castle, the rest of the class following.

“Professor Trelawney was right!” Lavender said, half in tears. “Someone is after Ollie!”

“Oh come off it you idiot!” Hermione scoffed. “He’s not going to die!”

“You tell that to the Hippogriff that just tried to kill him!” Lavender said, voice wobbling.

Hermione shot her a withering glare and stormed off in the direction of their hideout. The rest of the students started filtering off towards their various common rooms.

“Hey, Theo?” Harry said.

“Yeah?” Theo asked from his place behind Hagrid.

“Could you let me know how Ollie is later?” Harry asked. “I’d come, but I don’t know if he’d, er - want me there.”

“Oh, of course!” Theo said. “I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” Harry said with a warm smile. He and Neville started walking off to go find Hermione.

“Well that could have gone better,” Neville said faintly.

“You’ve got that right.” Harry agreed.

They got to their hideout to find Hermione furiously getting a roll of parchment out while Blaise and Tracey, who’d had a free period, looked on in alarm.

“Can one of you explain what’s gone on?” Blaise asked.

Harry quickly told them about the Care of Magical Creatures lesson, taking care to leave out Hermione’s argument with Lavender. It was clear she didn’t want to be spoken to.

“Wow,” Tracey said, wide eyed.

“Now I feel kind of bad for cursing Ollie earlier,” Blaise said.

“You cursed him?” Harry asked with alarm. “Why? Did he do something?”

“Technically no,” Tracey said, “But he apologised to me and Blaise earlier. Part of it was him offering to let us curse him back for all the times he cursed us.”

“I don’t think he expected us to actually take him up on that, though,” Blaise said, lips twitching.

“Nothing irreversible,” Tracey said. “But he took it pretty well, I’ll give him that.”

“He’s not had a good day, has he?” Harry said, staring out of the window in the direction of Hagrid’s Hut. He couldn’t see the Hippogriff paddock from here.

Hermione groaned and put her face into her hands. She was staring at an Ancient Runes essay.

But she hasn’t had Ancient Runes yet…

“Right, that’s it,” Tracey snapped, storming over to Hermione. “You’ve been acting weirdly for the last few days, and we know there’s something wrong with your schedule.”

“Just leave it!” Hermione hissed, flicking through her textbook. “I have a lot of homework to be doing!”

Tracey snatched the textbook away. Instantly, Hermione drew her wand.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Harry said, rushing to her side to try and calm her down.

“Merlin, Hermione!” Blaise said. “It’s just a textbook-”

“Give. It. Back. ” she said, slowly and precisely.

If Harry had been in Tracey’s position, he’d have been scared out of his mind. Of course, Tracey didn’t seem to care. She just held the textbook away.

“Your schedule’s not right,” she said. “Harry said you sat next to him in Arithmancy, but we clearly saw you in Muggle Studies…and when on earth did you have the chance to get to Ancient Runes?”

“I’m warning you, Tracey,” she growled.

“You’re in two places at once,” Tracey said calmly. “My question is…how?”

Hermione glared silently. Suddenly, Neville gasped.

“Hermione!” he said suddenly. “You don’t have a time-turner , do you?”

She paled noticeably. “I - I don’t-”

“Neville, you must be right!” Blaise said. “But how did you get one?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about!” she said. “You guys are going crazy!”

“No, I don’t think we are,” Tracey said. “Fess up.”

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. “Professor McGonagall made me give my word that I wouldn’t tell…but you already know… ugh, fine. I do have one.”

Neville and Blaise exchanged shocked looks. “How on earth did you get a time-turner?”

“I got special permission from the Ministry,” Hermione mumbled, “so I could get to all of my classes.”

“Wow,” Neville said faintly.

“Would someone mind telling me what a time-turner is?” Harry asked. Tracey seemed equally confused.

“Exactly what it says on the tin,” Blaise said. “It allows you to travel back in time.”

“No more than a few hours, of course,” Hermione added. “But it’s incredibly dangerous. You could run into yourself, or kill your past self, or have any number of accidents. I really shouldn’t have told you all…”

“It’ll be our secret,” Tracey promised. “And here’s your textbook back. Sorry for stealing it.”

“No, I’m sorry for drawing my wand on you,” Hermione sighed. “I’ve just been ever so stressed with all the work…”

“We’ll help you out on any essays you’re behind on, if you’d like?” Neville offered. “I’m not as smart as you, but I can always help out with Herbology.”

“Same here,” Harry added. “You’ve helped us out with homework loads, I think we owe you one.”

Hermione gave them all a grateful look. “Thanks.”

To Harry’s relief, Ollie seemed generally fine when he appeared for breakfast the next day. Madam Pomfrey had kept him overnight, but he looked good as new.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked.

“I’m alright,” Ollie said, scratching his shoulders. “Madam Pomfrey fixed me up. It’s a bit itchy but I’ll be fine.”

He bent in next to Harry and smirked. “She had a right go at Draco. He was still going on about that shoulder of his and she flipped her lid about him wasting her time.”

Despite that, Draco was still putting on dramatics for Potions class. He kept clutching his shoulder and getting Vince and Greg to chop his ingredients for him. Harry knew Snape was unimpressed - he could tell by the way his lips had curled up - but for the sake of Slytherin unity, he didn’t comment.

Still, Draco quickly got over that when the Quidditch trials were announced for the following week. Harry was less nervous than he’d been last year - it was easier to maintain your place on the team than it was to get in - but he didn’t want to get cocky. He spent most of the week in the run up to the trials training to get back on.

Luckily for Harry, the competition wasn’t as harsh as it had been the year before and he breezed through the Seeker trials. This year, everyone was focused on the vacant Chaser spot. Harry took a seat in the stands next to Jasmine, who had come to cheer him and Ollie on, so he could watch.

Instead of going for Seeker again, Draco had gone for Chaser, as had Ollie and a number of other students. Harry had even heard a rumour that Draco was promising Firebolts for the entire team if he got on. As much as Harry wanted one of those, however, he’d still prefer Draco to not be on the team. Harry didn’t want to see his stupid face at all their practices.

Still, as the trials continued, there was a clear frontrunner: Ollie. He worked with Flint and Pucey like a well-oiled machine and scored the most goals out of all of the other Chasers.

“Do you think he’s going to get on?” Jasmine asked as Ollie scored yet again. “He’s doing really well!”

“Depends,” Harry said. “Flint likes muscular people. Most Seekers are pretty small, so he doesn’t mind me, but I don’t know if that counts for his Chasers.”

Ollie had always been a bit bigger than Harry, but at the end of the day they both took after their father, and were lean and skinny. Still, James had been a successful Chaser in his day…

After the trials concluded, Flint beckoned Harry from the goalposts.

“Got to go,” Harry said to Jasmine. “See you later!”

As Harry approached, Flint frowned. 

“What’s that Ravenclaw doing at our tryouts?” he asked. “Is she a spy?”

Harry laughed. “She’s just my little sister! You don’t have anything to worry about, I promise.”

Flint shot a suspicious glare at Jasmine but didn’t say anything further. 

“Look. I wanted to talk about something with you,” he said. “Ollie’s a good Chaser. Really good. I’d like him on the team, but I know you two have had problems in the past. You told me how you’re dealing with it, but I want to make sure you’re completely fine with me putting him on the team before I do it.”

Harry frowned, thinking for a second. Was he okay with Ollie being on the team? The Quidditch team had often been his only refuge from Ollie and Draco’s torment in the past, but since they’d split up Harry didn’t need that break as much. Would he really want to jeporadise the team’s best chance at winning over a grudge he had against his brother?

Harry also had enjoyed playing Quidditch with Ollie and Jasmine a lot in the summer. Since pretty much all of his friends except Tracey hated it, Harry didn’t have anyone else he could share that sort of experience with. Wouldn’t it be nice to be on the Slytherin team with Ollie?

But did Harry trust him enough yet not to go back to his old ways? But how was Ollie ever supposed to improve as a person if Harry didn’t take a leap of faith?

“I think - I think I’d be okay with it,” Harry said finally.

Flint clapped him on the back. “Good man, Potter. By the way, I’m still having a talk with him about behaving. If he starts being a prat again, he’ll be kicked off before you can say Quidditch.”

Harry smiled at Flint. “Thanks for that.”

“Now go get changed,” Flint ordered. Harry obliged, looking forward to the season. Last year it had been cut short because of the attacks, so this would be his first full year of Seeking. Harry just hoped he could win and do his house proud.

Chapter Text

“Wake up, Blaise!” Harry yelled. He immediately regretted doing that when a pillow smacked him in the face. 

“Oi!” Harry said indignantly.

“You wake me in the mornings, you die ,” Blaise grumbled, not looking up.

“But Blaise, it’s Hogsmeade day!” Harry said, bouncing on the edge of Blaise’s mattress. “We were gonna get an early start!”

Blaise let out an incoherent groan. He and Harry then spent the next few minutes wrestling until Harry eventually succeeded at dragging Blaise out of bed and onto the ground.

“You’ll be thanking me when we get there!” Harry said cheerfully as Blaise buttoned up his shirt. 

“Maybe I can buy something at Dervish and Banges to kill you with,” Blaise muttered.

“That’s the spirit!”

They met up with Tracey in the common room and made their way to the outside of the castle where Neville and Hermione were queuing to get their names checked off for the Hogsmeade trip. They hurried over and joined them.

“You alright?” Harry asked Neville in a low voice. The trip was taking place on the morning of Halloween. 

“Yeah,” Neville said with a weak smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Usual arrangements for the feast?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” Neville said, giving him a grateful look.

After they were signed out, Harry and his friends all made their way down to the village, practically buzzing with excitement. They quickly made their way to Honeydukes, which was already brimming with students, and bought a few slabs of their finest chocolate, as well as some other assorted sweets. Harry was particularly looking forward to trying some of Droobles Best Blowing Gum, which wasn’t available outside of Honeydukes.

Once they were done, they made their way over to the Three Broomsticks and ordered a round of butterbeers to drink while they snacked on the chocolate.

“So, Harry,” Blaise said. His eyes were glinting. “Give me your insider tips. Odds on Slytherin beating Gryffindor?”

“You’re just asking me for the betting ring, aren’t you?” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Obviously!” Blaise said with a laugh. “Why else would I ever ask you about Quidditch?” 

“Well, practices are going great,” Harry said. “Ollie’s settling in quite well with the rest of the Chasers.”

He’d been putting more effort into Quidditch practice than Harry had seen Ollie put into anything . He pushed himself to the limits every practice, and outside of practice, too. Harry even saw him doing push-ups next to his bed every morning.

“Are they faring any better than Gryffindor, though?” Tracey asked. “I mean their Chasers are legendary . Neville, Hermione, anything?”

“Sorry,” Neville said sheepishly. “Can’t give away house secrets.”

Tracey sighed. “You lot are no fun.”

After they finished their drinks, Hermione suggested they go visit the Shrieking Shack before they went to any more shops.

“I heard it’s the most haunted building in Magical Britain!” she said excitedly as they walked up. “The villagers of Hogsmeade say they’d hear all sorts of screaming coming from it at night.”

Neville shivered.

“I think my Dad and Sirius have actually snuck in there,” Harry said, looking at the ramshackle building in the distance.

“No way!” Tracey said.

“Did they say if there were ghosts?” Blaise asked.

“They said they definitely thought something was in there,” Harry said, “but whenever I dig for more information they always clam up.”

“Maybe it’s because the ghost cursed them or something!” Tracey said with more excitement than Harry thought was strictly necessary. “So they’re not allowed to speak about it anymore.”

“Maybe,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I suppose it would be interesting to look into…”

“Let’s all listen,” Blaise whispered. “Maybe we’ll be able to hear the ghoul or whatever’s in there.”

They all stood in silence, straining their ears to try and hear anything from the hut. Disappointingly, all Harry could hear was the howling of the wind. He also thought he could faintly hear the sound of footsteps-

“Confractus!” someone shouted. Harry yelped as a sharp pain stabbed through his nose, and blood spurted all down his face.

He whipped around and saw Draco, just as he cast a spell at Hermione and made her legs start jerking uncontrollably. 

“Petrificus totalus!” Harry shouted, but his smashed nose made it all come out weirdly, and the spell didn't work. Draco laughed cruelly, and advanced further as Vince and Greg started shooting spells, disabling Blaise and Neville.

“Petrificus totalus!” A voice from further up the path shouted. Draco froze, and fell flat on his face.

“Locomotor wibbly!” Vince’s legs started uncontrollably shaking and he collapsed to the ground. Harry could finally make out who the two voices were; Ollie and Theo.

“Expelliarmus!” Ollie shouted. Greg’s wand flew out of his hand. Ollie threw it as hard as he could, causing it to fly far down the hill.

“You might want to go get that, Greg,” Ollie said lazily. Greg started running away down one the paths.

“You alright, Harry?” Ollie asked, eyeing Harry’s nose with concern.

“Not really,” Harry gasped as blood continued to pour out of his nose. Tracey reached into her pocket and handed Harry a tissue, which he took gratefully, trying to stem the bleeding.

“Finite incantatem,” Theo said, waving his wand at Hermione. Her legs stopped jerking. He did the same for Blaise and Neville.

“What is your problem ?!” Tracey shouted in the direction of Draco and Vince. “We were literally just standing here minding our own business!”

“Grow a pair, Malfoy,” Blaise said, wrinkling his nose with disgust. “If you’re going to attack someone, do it to their face!”

“This might be partially my fault,” Ollie said, grimacing. “We might have gotten into a bit of an argument in the village and this twat -” at this, he kicked a rock at Draco’s frozen body, “-decided to come take it out on you.”

“Thanks for the help,” Neville said.

“No problem,” said Ollie, tucking his wand back into his pocket. “We’ll leave you lot to do whatever you want with them. Do me proud and make then suffer, yeah?”

Ollie grinned cruelly, before he and Theo turned around and headed back into the village.

“Well, seeing as someone didn’t have the courtesy not to curse us to our backs, I don’t think we’ll have the courtesy to not jinx the living daylights out of you while you’re frozen there,” Tracey said with an evil smirk. “And I know a lot of spells…you’re going to rue the day you were born…”

After a fun five minutes of hexing, Harry and his friends left Draco and Vince where they were and went back down into the village.

“Shouldn’t we…let them out?” Neville asked nervously. “What if they get left there?”

“Oh, they won’t,” Blaise said dismissively. “People’ll find them soon enough. If they do get stuck on the hill, though, I can’t say I care.”

Harry took the tissues away from his nose and grimaced. They were thoroughly bloodied, but any fresh bleeding seemed to have stopped.

“Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey, Harry,” Hermione said worriedly. “That doesn’t look too good…”

“Nope,” Harry said vehemently. “I refuse to let him ruin this trip. I’m fine!”

“You’re covered in blood, Harry,” Tracey said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I can fix that,” Hermione said. “Scourgify!”

A strange cold sensation spread across Harry’s face. He looked down at his shirt - the blood was all gone.

“Nice one, Hermione,” Neville said.

“Sure you’ll be fine?” Blaise asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Now, Dervish and Banges anyone?”

They spent a lot of time looking around the joke shop, trying to find fun things to use on Malfoy, Vince and Greg. Hermione was just asking them if they could make a trip to Scrivenshaft’s Quill shop when someone behind them cleared their throat.

“Excuse me,” Professor Snape said, “But I’ve just been told by Mr Malfoy and his associates that you five stood there and hexed them?”

“Worth it,” Tracey muttered.

They all turned around to face him, slightly guiltily. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow when he saw Harry’s face.

“What on earth did you do to your nose, Potter?” Snape asked.

“It was Malfoy, sir,” Blaise jumped in. “He hexed Harry when our backs were turned! That’s why we hexed them back.”

Snape sighed. “Understandable. You do realise I still have to give you all detention for hexing them after you'd disabled them as a threat, don't you?”

Everyone tried to look contrite and failed miserably.

Strict old bastard , Harry thought as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Now, Potter, are you going to get that looked at?” Snape asked. “If you’ve broken your nose it’ll get stuck that way if you don’t get a move on and fix it. Hospital Wing, now.”

“Okay, sir,” Harry sighed, going up to the till to pay for his items.

“I’ll come,” Blaise said. “You guys all stay here and buy your stationary.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s fine!” Blaise said. “Honestly, I really hate quills. I always have to buy special left-handed ones, and even then I still get ink everywhere. Hermione introduced me to pens over the summer, and they’re so much easier to use…”

After Harry’s nose had been fixed up, he noticed Draco spent more time moping around the common room than usual. Harry wasn’t sure what his problem was this time; it was either because of the many detentions Snape had given him for attacking Harry and his friends, or it was because of the upcoming Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch match which he wouldn’t be participating in.

Harry was looking forward to the match, even though tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin were at an all time high. Still, as the weather worsened in the run-up to the match, some of Harry’s excitement died. Flint had been looking for any way they could get out of the match, but didn’t have much success.

The weather on the morning of was even worse. When Harry woke up, he could see how disturbed and choppy the water was from his dorm window. Considering how far underwater the common room was, Harry was certain that wasn’t a good sign.

As he sat and ate breakfast, Harry noticed Flint giving him and Ollie worried looks.

“Don’t do anything stupid this match,” he said, glancing up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall as lightning flashed. “I don’t want you two to get blown out of the sky.”

“We’ll be fine, Flint,” Harry said breezily. 

Ollie didn’t reply. He was staring into his porridge, looking a bit ill.

“You’ll be fine, alright?” Harry muttered to him as they walked out to the pitch.

“If you say so,” Ollie said faintly.

Flint stared out of the changing room windows into the pouring rain and bit his lip.

“Potter!” he snapped, pointing at Harry. “Get the Snitch as fast as you possibly can. The Gryffindor Seeker is Ginny Weasley. She’s so new, you can beat her no problem. I don’t think I’ll be able to see the Quaffle an inch from my face in weather like this, so we want to get it over with fast.”

And I’m supposed to see the Snitch ?

As soon as they took off, Harry immediately started to struggle. The pounding rain was splattering his glasses, and he was so cold and shivering that he thought he’d never be able to grab the snitch with his shaking hands.

Maybe I should invest in contact lenses.

It was so dark and noisy that Harry had no clue what the score was until Ollie flew near him.

“Harry, we’re not doing too well!” he shouted, barely audible over the howling wind. “Gryffindor are up seventy points!”

“Working on it!” he shouted back.

After another long, cold stretch, Harry finally spotted it; the Snitch. He flew forward, praying it wouldn’t fly away into the darkness…

Harry grabbed it and swooped up into the sky. The storm was so violent that Lee Jordan didn’t even notice until he flew over to the stands, struggling not to fall off his broom.

“Potter catches the Snitch!” Jordan shouted. “Slytherin wins!”

Harry and the rest of the Slytherin team quickly rushed off the Pitch and into the changing rooms. Harry could have cried with relief when the warm water hit his back in the shower.

“Nice job, Potter,” Flint said as they packed their kit away. “That was a close one.”

Harry and Ollie walked out of the changing rooms together to find Sirius, James, Lily and Jasmine all cowering from the wind under a massive umbrella.

“There you two are!” James shouted. “Want an escort back to the castle?”

“Yeah, thanks!” Ollie yelled back.

They all crowded under the umbrella, which didn’t have too much of an effect. The wind was driving the rain right underneath it.

“Nice catch, Harry!” Sirius said. “And well done on your first game, Ollie! That was some good chasing!”

“Thanks!” Ollie said. “Fred and George nearly killed me with that Bludger though…”

“I didn’t see any of that,” Harry said ruefully. “The visibility was so bad!”

“I think they ought to cancel Quidditch matches more often,” Lily said, sniffing. “It’s dangerous playing in that kind of weather!”

“You can say that again…” Harry said darkly.

“How’s you even manage to catch that Snitch, Harry?” Jasmine asked. “It was so dark!”

“It pretty much just flew in front of my face,” Harry said, grimacing. “I just got lucky.”

They finally got to the Entrance Hall of the castle.

“We’ll be leaving you guys, then,” James said. “Well done again, and enjoy the victory party!”

“Will do!” Harry said, turning around to head down to the dungeons with Ollie. They walked for a while in silence.

“That was pretty fun,” Harry said. “I liked playing with you.”

“Same,” Ollie said, smiling at him. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t do it sooner. I’m really sorry, again.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. “And I’m glad you’re being like this…better. Like when you took out Draco for us in Hogsmeade when he attacked us. I’m really glad you’re done with him.”

“So am I,” Ollie said, grimacing. “I shouldn’t have been friends with him for so long. I just didn’t think I had anyone else to be around, you know? I was scared to be alone.”

Ollie sighed. “Besides, as horrible as he can be, he was still a good friend to me some of the time, you know? He did follow me when I went after Voldemort in first-year. Not just that, too. He really helped me out with - with some stuff.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Just…essays and stuff. I - I really struggle with reading. It takes me forever, and I can never get the letters right, and it all just…blurs. I don’t really know how to explain it. And Draco never bothered me about it. He’d proofread my essays for me and help me with spelling mistakes and things, and it helped stop all these detentions I was getting at the start of first year. He didn’t have to do all that and it was…it was nice.”

“Wow,” Harry said. “I had no idea.”

He’d always assumed that everything came easily to Ollie. From Harry’s point of view, he’d had everything handed to him, and he’d never really considered that Ollie might still have his own struggles.

Harry suddenly remembered his conversation with Draco when he’d pretended to be Ollie last year. Draco had offered to proofread Ollie’s Transfiguration essay a couple of times. Harry hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now it all made sense. 

Ollie hesitated. “Don’t tell anyone this, promise?”

“Promise,” Harry said firmly. “Do you know why that happens? I don’t know of anyone else that happens to.”

“No idea,” Ollie said miserably. “I think I’m just stupid. That was why I never knew how to talk to you and Jasmine when you first came to live with us. You two were always in the library and talking about the books you read, and I just couldn’t do any of that.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I didn’t mean to make you feel left out or anything, I had no idea...”

“No, I’m sorry,” Ollie sighed. “It wasn’t an excuse for me to be so nasty. I just wish I could do all that stuff, you know?”

“Yeah, it must be hard,” Harry said. “And if you ever want me to…I don’t know, read through things for you, I’d do it.”

“Really?” Ollie said.

“Of course,” Harry said.

“Thanks.”

They had just reached the door of the common room.

“Ready for a party?” Ollie said. “We deserve it after playing in that shit weather.”

Harry grinned. “Ready.”

Chapter Text

Harry spent any spare moment he had in the library over the course of the next week, trying to find a book that would explain Ollie’s reading problem. Of course, it was no easy feat; he wasn’t really sure what he was looking for, after all. By the Saturday after the match, Harry was no further than when he’d started.

On Sunday morning, he found himself waking up early. He sighed and rolled over, but couldn’t get back to sleep. Instead of waking up Blaise, or waiting for Tracey to get up, he decided to run down to the Great Hall and meet Hermione, who was normally up early. Sure enough, she was already sitting at the Gryffindor table eating. Harry waved to her. After quickly eating, he went to go meet her in the Entrance Hall.

“Want to go to the library?” Hermione asked. “I have a ton of books to return.”

She held up her bag, which was bulging at the seams.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said. It gave him the opportunity to look for the book again. 

Once they got to the library, Harry started walking through the shelves, frowning. 

“Any luck?” Hermione asked.

“No,” Harry sighed.

“What exactly is it you’re looking for? Maybe I could help.”

Harry hesitated. He didn’t want to tell other people Ollie’s business without his permission, but maybe she’d know what to look for…

“It’s…one of my muggle friends,” Harry lied. “I’m trying to help him out. He was telling me he’s got problems with reading and spelling and things. I was just trying to figure out what might be causing that.”

“Oh. Maybe he’s got dyslexia?” Hermione suggested.

“What’s that?” Harry asked. He thought it faintly rang a bell.

“It’s a condition that causes difficulty with reading, writing and spelling,” Hermione rattled off. “It was one of the things I was reading about last summer. I think Hogwarts should have a book on it, just give me five minutes."

She disappeared into the shelves and came out a few moments later with a thick, dusty book, Conditions of the Wizarding Mind .

She flipped it open to one of the pages. Harry started to read through the symptoms.

“This sounds like what my muggle friend was telling me,” Harry said thoughtfully. “But is there anything you can do about it?”

“Well, he can talk to one of his teachers,” Hermione said. “I think schools offer adjustments for that sort of thing.”

“Great,” Harry said happily. “I think I’ll check this book out. Thanks for the help, Hermione.”

“No problem!”

As Harry gave his book over to the stern Madam Pince, he still had quite a few questions that he couldn’t ask Hermione. Did the wizarding world even have those sort of adjustments? Could wizards cure dyslexia?

Still, Harry did have someone else he could ask. He did have a mentoring session with Snape that afternoon…

“Sir, can I ask you a question?” Harry said nervously.

“Of course, Potter,” Snape said.

“So…if I had a friend who thinks they have dyslexia, is there anything the school can do to help with it?” he asked.

Snape frowned. “Would this ‘friend’ happen to be you, Potter?”

“What? No!” Harry said quickly, “It’s just someone I know who I’m trying to help out.”

Snape’s eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. “Well, they’d have to meet with a specialist to get a diagnosis…after that, there are a number of things we could do to help. Extra time in exams, support from teachers, that kind of thing. Let your friend know that they should come to me if they need any help, or tell them to speak with whoever their Head of House is.”

“Thanks. I will, sir,” Harry said. 

Later that night, Harry went into the dorm with Ollie and explained everything he’d found out - excluding Hermione, of course.

“Dyslexia…” Ollie said, frowning. “I guess the stuff you’ve told me does make sense. But is there anything I can do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I spoke to Snape and he said there’s stuff the school can do.”

“You spoke to Snape about me?!” Ollie said, giving him an alarmed look. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him it was you,” Harry said quickly. “I just asked him generally, and he told me you can go to your Head of House about it.”

Ollie sighed. “I don’t know if I want to go to Snape about it, though…he kind of hates me. I’ve been dealing with it long enough by myself. Maybe I’ll just keep going like I have.”

“Just think about it, alright?” Harry said. “And if you want to go to Snape, I can come with you, if you want. He doesn’t mind me, I can always keep him in line.”

“Alright,” Ollie said. “I will. Thanks.”

Harry sat in the in the common room, flicking through an abandoned copy of The Daily Prophet to try and deal with his boredom. Tracey was struggling through a Charms Essay and Blaise was off somewhere, so Harry didn’t have anything to do. Nothing was happening…they were just rehashing the details of Lockhart’s trial(during which he’d received two years in Azkaban - too little in Harry’s opinion) and were discussing another Death Eater who had died, Rodolphus Lestrange. Harry froze slightly at the name. That was one of the Death Eaters who had tortured his mother…

He smirked. Good riddance.

Suddenly, Blaise threw himself onto the sofa next to him, tears in his eyes. Harry jumped.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed. 

“Kevin dumped me,” he whispered.

“Why?!” Harry was bewildered. He’d thought things were going so well between the two of them.

“Because of the things they’ve been saying about my mother!” Blaise spat. “After Antonio died…people were telling Kevin if he stayed with me, I’d kill him off or something, and he ‘didn’t want to deal with it’ apparently.”

Tracey gripped her wand and growled. “Oh, you won’t need to kill him. I’m going to do it myself.”

“That bastard!” Harry said angrily, trying to keep his voice down. “You can’t help…well what your family does!”

There was an unspoken rule in their group that they generally avoided the topic of Blaise’s mother. Blaise had originally been in denial about her…profession, but their whole group, including Blaise, generally accepted now that Ms Zabini definitely killed her husbands. Still, that wasn't exactly a polite topic of conversation.

“I’m going to look up the darkest curses I can find,” Tracey hissed. “I’m going to turn his blood into acid if I have to, he is going to pay.”

Blaise slumped into Harry’s shoulder. 

“I really liked him,” he whispered.

“I know you did,” Harry said gently, rubbing his shoulder. “He didn’t deserve you.”

“Nobody deserves you.” Tracey added. “You’re too good for these trash men!”

“Even if he didn’t deserve me, I still wanted him,” Blaise whimpered, tears spilling over. 

“Come on,” Harry said, helping him to his feet. “Lets get up to the dorm.”

He helped Blaise inside, Tracey abandoning her Charms essay to follow them.

Almost the entirety of November was dedicated to helping Blaise through his breakup and coming up with new and creative ways to torment Kevin and the rest of the Ravenclaws. Harry was delighted to discover that Hermione was willing to use her extensive magical knowledge for evil when it came to helping out a friend, and she provided some of their best vengeance hexes. Still, that business almost completely drove the topic of Ollie from Harry’s mind. In fact, he had completely forgotten about his promise to help Ollie talk to Snape when his brother tapped him on the shoulder two weeks before the Christmas holidays.

“Hey, Harry?” he said, glancing around nervously. “Can I talk to you alone for a second?”

“Sure,” he said, leaving Tracey and Blaise and going to a quieter corner of the common room. “What is it?”

“I want to talk to Snape about the dyslexia thing,” he said, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet. “Before I lose my nerve. If you’re not busy, could we go now if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure!” Harry said. He honestly hadn’t thought Ollie was ever going to take him up on the offer. “I think he’s in.”

They walked quickly and silently through the dungeon corridors until they reached Professor Snape’s office. Once they got outside, however, Ollie didn’t knock.

“You’re really sure he’ll be okay with me asking him for help?” Ollie whispered.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry said. “He’s-”

“If you’d like to speak to me, I’d appreciate it if you actually came into my office instead of whispering about me outside,” Snape called from inside. Harry and Ollie both looked at each other and winced before pushing open the door.

They stepped inside, and Snape surveyed them sceptically.

“Harry. Oliver.” His lip curled slightly. “What do you want?”

“Well. Um-” Ollie stammered. “I’ve been having - well, a problem.”

“What problem?” Snape asked. “And why do you need Harry here?”

“I’m here for moral support, sir." Harry said, glaring at Snape. He was being unreasonably rude.

Snape sighed. “Continue, Oliver?"

“Well…I think I have dyslexia,” Ollie said. “I’ve always found reading and writing and stuff really difficult. Harry told me you might be able to help me, and I was just wondering what that would involve.”

Snape’s eyebrows almost imperceptibly rose. “That does make a bit of sense, I suppose…well, first of all I’ll contact a specialist to see you so you can get a diagnosis. After that, there are a lot of things Hogwarts can do to help you depending on what you need. You’ll get extra time on your exams, and we’ll contact all the staff to make them aware of your issues so you’ll get extra support in lessons and with essays. We can even give you coloured overlays or give you coloured lenses for your glasses, which might be able to help with reading.”

Ollie’s face fell a bit. “Isn’t there like…a spell or something, that makes it go away?”

“No, Oliver,” Snape said in a surprisingly gentle voice. “It’s just the way your brain’s wired. You know, dyslexia isn’t just a bad thing.”

“It feels like it,” Ollie said quietly, breaking eye contact with Snape and staring at the tops of his shoes.

“But it’s not,” Snape said. “It allows you to be more creative and think outside of the box. Those are both incredibly useful skills, are they not? Also, from what your professors have told me, you show an immense aptitude for practical work, an area many of your classmates do not excel in. You just have to work with what you find difficult and play to your strengths.”

Harry was a little surprised. He’d never expected Snape to be that empathetic.

“I never thought about it like that, sir,” Ollie said slowly. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” Snape said. “Now I have some matters to take care of today. Please return to my office tomorrow at four so we can set up an appointment with that specialist.”

“Thanks, sir,” Ollie said earnestly. They walked out of the office.

As soon as the door shut, Ollie visibly relaxed.

“Thanks, Harry,” he said earnestly.

“No problem,” Harry said. “Want me to come along tomorrow?”

“No, I think I’ve got it from here,” Ollie said. “Thanks for all the help though.”

Before the Christmas holidays, there was one last trip to Hogsmeade. The village looked completely different when it was covered in a blanket of snow, and it was somehow even more fun to sit in the warmth of The Three Broomsticks while the wind howled outside. It was also nice to be able to go around Hogsmeade without fearing for his safety, since Draco had been banned from all trips for the rest of the year.

Harry also had to focus on buying Christmas presents for his friends and family. He got all sorts of pranking supplies for Sirius from Zonkos, lots of Honeydukes chocolate for Jasmine and various other things for his friends.

While Harry was looking around Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop for a self-inking quill for Hermione, he noticed something. Tucked in the back corner of the store was a small, navy-blue quill. There was a description box underneath it, which he bent down to read.

SELF-CORRECTING QUILL!

The newest quill, which will change the ink colour of any misspelt words and creates a separate list with the correct spellings, for the price of one galleon and four sickles…

Harry picked up the quill and frowned at it with interest. He thought this could really help Ollie, but what if he already had something like this?

Still, Harry thought it was worth the risk. He bought that, as well as Hermione’s quill and also got his brother an Acid Pop for good measure. 

A couple of weeks later, Harry sat in the living room of Potter Manor on Christmas Day while Celestina Warbeck played over the Wizarding Wireless. Harry winced as she tried to hit a high note that she definitely didn’t have the range for.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Sirius, who was sitting next to him, muttered. “Muggles are way better at making music. I’d take Madonna over this woman any day.”

The door opened and a yawning Ollie walked in eating a mince pie.

“There you are!” Lily said in a scolding tone.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Ollie said sleepily, running his fingers through his already-messy hair.

“Merry Christmas!” Adhara said.

“Can we open the presents now, please?” Jasmine said impatiently, jumping to her feet. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

“Alright, alright!” James laughed. "To the tree, everyone!"

As they all tore into the wrapping paper, Harry was pleased to see Ollie’s grin at the quill Harry had gotten him, as well as Jasmine’s excited squeal at the slab of Honeydukes chocolate he’d bought her.

Harry was also surprised at what he’d gotten from Ollie. It was a small box, which Harry opened to find a small model dragon.

“It’s a Serbian Silkwing,” Ollie said as Harry held the dragon up to the light to admire its shimmering, technicolour scales. It opened its large wings and roared silently. “I know you’ve always liked dragons, so…”

“It’s great!” Harry said, feeling genuinely touched. So Ollie actually did pay attention to other people. “Thank you so much!”

The only thing that made the Christmas holidays a bit less fun was the obvious tension between Lily and James. Whatever issues they were having were clearly boiling close to the surface, which Harry noticed in the short, tense talks between them and the resigned way that James was looking at Lily.