Sunny Suzuki and the Stupid Traitorous Rat

They had missed the sorting, and Harry was, frankly, quite disappointed. 

The whole ordeal with the dementors had him (and for some reason, Hermione) scurried off to the Hospital Wing by Professor McGonagal faster than one could blink, and by the time he add assured Madam Pomfrey that he was fine, and that yes, he already had some chocolate, and then waited outside while the Professor and Hermione spoke of her class schedule of all things, all the new first years had been sorted to their respective houses. 

It wasn’t anything thrilling by any means, but it was a pity to have missed it nonetheless. 

Hermione and Harry made their way around the tables to Ron, who had saved their seats for them while he waited, passing the Slytherins and then the Ravenclaws before they finally arrived. “There you both are! What was all that about?”

Harry sat down and opened his mouth to explain, but right as the words were about to leave him, his eyes slid barely a centimetre past Ron’s head and landed on a familiar sight of black coal hair at the Ravenclaw table only a few feet away. He trailed off before he could even begin, and then Dumbledore began to speak, ending his chance at offering an explanation altogether. 

The old man’s words were momentarily tuned out to Harry’s ears.  

Suzuki, of all people, was at the Ravenclaw table, sitting between what must have been a first year and a fifth. He stared at his empty plate with an odd, distant glaze in his eyes. His tie was loose and barely made, and his hair was unkempt in a way Harry hadn’t ever seen before. Suzuki had always looked more or less put together, typically wearing a low ponytail and fancy-looking robes the few times he’d gotten sight of him (other than the first meeting, in which he wore muggle clothing for some reason). And while he did have a ponytail now it was almost entirely undone, most of his hair loose and draping down his face, uncared for and forgotten. 

Did he sleep on the train and didn’t bother to fix it, or something? 

Nevertheless, Harry hadn’t expected to see the bloke ever again, not after… well, everything, really. 

After his first (and last) disastrous attempt at dialogue, Harry had shoved all thoughts regarding Suzuki and their painfully awkward and hurtful interactions out of his mind, focusing instead on all the things he had been enjoying before that boy pranced into his summer. Magic, food, and most importantly, freedom. 

It was staggering to see him again. Mostly because the events that went down only a few weeks ago felt like they happened a lifetime ago instead. Or they felt like a foggy dream, with how completely ridiculous it all was. 

He got essentially stalked and shunned for days on end, and then the one time he tried to talk, Suzuki blew up a shop in order to get away. 

Yeah, he’d admit it, he went a bit far to stoop so low as to lock them both inside, but that was impulse! He didn’t mean to trigger an accidental magic level of distress in the other. Not to mention that, in the few days that passed after, Harry wanted to try and find him again to fix things, to apologise for his actions in hopes that the other would do the same. 

But Suzuki was gone.  

After days of never catching a moment of liberty from him, Harry was abandoned without second thought. 

It was strange to feel betrayed by someone who was never his friend to begin with. Or not betrayed– it was strange to feel hurt with avoidance by someone who never truly seeked him out to begin with. 

It was all in all upsetting. 

He really did want to be less frightening, or intimidating, or whatever the bloody hell it was that got the bloke’s knickers in a twist. He didn’t want to be the Heir of Slytherin, or the Boy-Who-Lived, or anything like that. He only wanted to be Harry, and Suzuki never gave him a single chance to do so. 

Harry couldn’t help it when his expression twisted into a glare. 

Suzuki was, he concluded bitterly to himself, a jerk. 

“...rry? Harry!” Hermione snapped her fingers in front of his face, and Harry jolted, his knee hitting the table. She gave him an odd look, and now that he noticed it, so was Ron. “Harry, are you alright?”

He glanced back and forth between his friends, caught by surprise, and they were both looking at him with concern. Oops. He offered a sheepish smile. “Yes– yes, I am, sorry… what were you saying?”

Ron furrowed his brows, hesitant. “Nothing really, mate. But Dumbledore just finished his speech and all, and I meant to show you Snape’s face and then Hagrid was…”  he trailed off, seeing something in Harry’s expression that not even he knew about. “Are you sure you’re okay? That dementor didn’t get you messed up too badly now, did it?” 

Harry shook his head no. “I’m fine, really. Got distracted, is all. You said something about Hagrid?”

His friend wore a long, pinched look, but then he reluctantly nodded, opting to let it drop for now. Ron’s face then split into a wicked grin, and he gestured at the professors, talking about Snape’s distraught self at the new DADA instructor while Hermione joined in to speak of Hagrid’s new role as their Care of Magical Creatures professor– that explained the Monster Books– and Harry found himself slowly relaxing again, the thought of Suzuki flitting away from his mind. 

Somewhere between Ron’s and Hermione’s respective rambles, the feast was conjured and the tables were swarmed with all sorts of delicious and marvellous dishes. 

He wasted no time before snatching food for his plate, a newfound hunger in his stomach loud and demanding as the sounds of cluttering plates and utensils filled the air. 

Everyone fell into easy conversation, and when the topic steered to the new sorted students, to Harry’s utter surprise (and salty disappointment) Suzuki’s name came up. 

“New student, isn’t he?” prompted Seamus a few seats away, taking large bites. “Strange that he isn’t a first year, I reckon it’s because nothing like this has happened before. Must be weird, getting into school so late… wonder if he’s a transfer from homeschooling or something of the sort.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Either way I don’t envy his situation, that’s for sure.”

So Harry wasn’t crazy. He really hadn’t met this boy before at school because he was not, in fact, a student at all before today! The knowledge made him feel marginally better about himself and his memory. 

Though that brought a different question to his mind. 

Surely word of him allegedly being the Heir didn’t spread that much through the wizarding world? Or at least, not enough for a new muggleborn(?) kid to already know about it even before they got accepted into the school? It was highly unlikely, at least in his optimistically hopeful opinion. 

…but then, why was Suzuki so terrified if he wasn’t here to see anything?

Hermione perked, taking a sip of her drink before setting the goblet down. “Actually, this isn’t the first instance of late admission! In fact there was a footnote in Hogwarts A History from around a century ago of another account of a student being admitted in their fifth year and–”

“Fifth year?” echoed Ron in a whisper, turning to Harry in horror while Hermione continued to ramble on and on to a regretful-looking Seamus. “I can’t imagine starting school like that. Mum would kill me, I think. Frankly I’d lay down and die at that point… imagine the sheer amount of work he has to catch up on.”

Ron shivered, and Harry’s gaze slid back to Suzuki.

He frowned. 

“Why do you reckon he was admitted late?” Harry asked in a mumble, and the only answer he got to that was Ron’s shrug as he took some violent bites of his meat, ones that were aggressive enough to snap Hermione out of her explanation and spur her into a passionate lecture about table manners. 

Suzuki, meanwhile, was the complete opposite of his friend, not having touched any food around him. In fact, he wasn’t really… doing anything... at all. A few people around him had turned to him and said things, yet he hadn’t uttered a word. His lips and his eyes hadn’t so much as twitched no matter how often anyone tried to interact with him, staring emptily at the table the entire time. 

Huh. His aversion to dialogue wasn’t just reserved for Harry, then. 

That thought made him feel even better about himself. 

Maybe Suzuki was just rude, or weirdly scared of everyone and everything, and it was as simple as that. 

Maybe Harry had gotten worked up over nothing. 

He smiled to himself, and happily brought his focus away from the boy and back to the conversation at hand, which had spiralled into sharing their planned classes and what they’re looking forward to in the school year. He dug into his food, listening and chiming in whenever he felt the need to comment, and mostly talking to only Ron and Hermione about wherever the conversation went. 

And just like that, it was as if everything was back to the chaotic normalcy of Hogwarts again. 

No Aunt Marges, no Sirius Black, no Suzuki. Only his friends, his classes, and the safety of Dumbledore. 

Warmth spread across his chest, and Harry laughed genuinely at a stupid but somehow funny joke Ron made about Hermione’s unbelievable schedule. 

He’d missed this so much. 

It was good to be back. 

—

It was night, but Sunny didn’t fall asleep. 

Or rather, he couldn’t. 

It is up to you to choose what to do with your knowledge, this life that was gifted upon you.

Change the world or leave it, or perhaps, if you wish, do both.

The smell of rain trickled in from the miniature glass door of the gothic window beside him, one meant to be open and closed for air circulation. Pale moonlight washed in through the glass and spread over the blankets, their heavy mass creating thick folds with sharp shadows.

For what it was worth, the Ravenclaw’s dormitories were beautiful. 

They were built with white marble walls and light wooden floors, with a beautiful blue dome ceiling showcasing white astronomical depictions of the stars. 

Surprisingly, they had bunk beds that were seemingly incised into the white walls in a curved dome shape, fitting perfectly between the stone columns that marked each bed pair. It was a bit similar to what he glimpsed from the most recent Harry Potter game, but not that much. Only in spirit, with the whole bunk bed theme going on, but their actual appearance was a whole other thing. 

He liked to call them ‘sleeping pods’ in his mind, as it felt less like a bunk bed and more like stepping into a large vertically tilted bowl, one that had a soft mattress, warm blankets, and nice pillows. One that just so happened to have another sleeping pod above it, a small but firm wooden staircase giving access to the upper bed. His mattress was comfortable. He rated it an 8.75/10 in his scale, his old bed still not bested. 

Sunny was pretty over his fear of heights by now, but he still picked the pod closer to the ground. Just to avoid any chance of rolling over and dying from the fall. Though with his luck so far, he might have won some weird and stupid immunity when it came to fall damage. 

He was more and more tempted to test the theory each passing day but… no, not yet. 

The beds were right by the window, practically attached to the sills, which meant that the majority of his wall was made up of foggy glass . The rest of the wall was made up of large stone bricks, which were mostly hollowed to make space for a shelf. This meant that when his curtains were closed like they were now, Sunny essentially had his own small cozy world with a breathtaking view from high up in the towers, shut off from everyone and everything outside the draped blue fabric. 

It was just him, Mewo, the bed and the sky, filling him with peace he didn’t expect to feel anywhere in the castle. 

The ‘pod’ itself, not counting the actual mattress, was big enough that he could slot his luggage in the space where his bed ended and the curved wall began. Using the windowsill as a bedside table as well as a sitting spot, he had enough room to organize everything he wanted and never have to leave ever again. The thought was… very alluring.

Soft snoring noises from the others were muffled by the curtains, and he vaguely wondered if they were enchanted to have an audio numbing effect. Either that, or his new roommates were thankfully quiet. 

His new roommates. 

Sunny tried not to grimace. 

He was zoning out– dissociating, possibly– so hard during the feast and after it… he could barely even remember the way to the common rooms, nothing coming to mind other than the blurry view of the floor. He knew from his knowledge of the books that they must have gone up a fair bit of stairs to get where they were, but he couldn’t remember so much as seeing even a single step. 

Yeah, he wasn’t taking this whole you’re-a-wizard-now thing well to say the least. 

Mewo was silent in his lap as he leaned against the window, watching the droplets of rain roll down the glass. It was dark outside, too dark to make anything out, so he settled for gazing at the beads of water as they slid down, noticing how a few of them glowed through the moonlight’s effect, and staring at his own reflection whenever his eyes unfocused.

Sunny breathed in through his nose, closing his eyes and concentrating on the sound of showering clatter beside him as he breathed out his mouth. Mewo’s fur was soft and soothing underneath his fingers. He cradled the rare sensation of comfort with every fibre of his being. 

In the lulling silence of the night, in the quiet clatter of rain, his thoughts were unbearably loud. 

Because this was it. 

Whether he liked it or not, whether this was real or not, he was living through it. 

Whatever this was, it was happening, and it had been happening for a month now. 

It was time he sat down and thought about it. Really thought about it. 

Okay. He was in the third Harry Potter book. He was in a fucking book, or in the Harry Potter world at the very least. At this point canon and book-plot was cracked to shit. He met Harry already, and that might have done more damage than he could ever hope to repair as it was. 

No matter how much he’d like to stick his head in the sand, the guarantee that everything would go the same way as the books wasn’t one he could rely on. Not fully, in any case. 

So, he had two options. 

The first one was the most likely to be pulled off, and the second one was the most uncomfortable.

One, he could keep his nose down, avoid contact with anyone and everyone as much as possible, be a good and discrete little student, and find a way home before shit hit the fan even more than it already did. 

It was an easy option. Too easy. 

Sunny had always been quiet, and from the snippets he could remember after he got sorted, most of his housemates had already given up trying to talk to him after he gave them dead, vacant stares in response to any and all attempts at communication. He cringed at the memory, but there was no undoing it now. He had already begun the path when it came to being the meek easily forgettable kid in class.

It was the easy way. The coward’s way, but Sunny never claimed to be brave. 

And yet… option number two. 

He could change things. 

He could use his knowledge of this world for good, and speed things up– like finding a way to save Buckbeak without all the time-travel mindfart, or getting Sirius’ innocence proved instead of letting him suffer for longer than needed, stopping Peter Pettigrew from escaping and bringing Voldemort back. 

Not to mention the Horcruxes.

He didn’t remember every single location, but he remembered each and every object. 

Sunny could get off his ass right now, go to Dumbledore and tell him everything he knew. Maybe the old Headmaster could even find a way to bring him back home. 

But then…

Sunny shifted his position with a thoughtful frown, leaning heavier against the window and bringing Mewo closer to him than before. 

…was this the best idea? 

Dumbledore didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to valuing an individual's lives over the ‘greater good’. He sacrificed Harry after all. Yeah, sure he didn’t want to, and it pained him and all that sob story shit Mari always told him, but he still did it.

Sunny wasn’t the biggest fan of the guy, even now. Back when he was a kid, he didn’t like the fact that Harry was set up to be sacrificed, even if Dumbledore knew Harry wouldn’t die die thanks to Lily’s blood protections or something like that. 

Even as Mari explained time and time again that he shouldn’t be so hard on the Headmaster, because imperfection made everyone human, and the only reason most hated his fall from grace so deeply was because they put him on a high pedestal in the first place. 

His eleven year old self never really understood her empathy despite all of that.  

Now, much older, a bit more mature, and frankly just traumatized enough to understand that life is a bitch, he didn’t hate him. Dislike him? Absolutely. But hate was too strong a word. He couldn’t bring himself to, he understood it all too well that sometimes, you just get stuck between two evils, and picking the lesser one is the best you can do. Sometimes life hits you and when you hit it back, you just hit too fucking hard. 

Not to mention that half of the things that made people hate Dumbledore was purely speculation and the disregard of the fact that sometimes stories need a plot that isn’t immediately fixed by capable characters in order to be sold. 

Even when he couldn’t shake off the lingering anger at the man, he understood his sister a lot better now.

He looked at Albus’ despair and saw Hero yelling at Kel, Aubrey bullying Basil, Mari screaming at him–

Albus Dumbledore was willing to ruin a child for the world, and while he didn’t like it, he was able to understand that. 

Albus Dumbledore was willing to ruin his lover for the world, and Sunny even used to (pitifully) respect him for that way back when. 

…and, hah, Albus Dumbledore allowed his sister to die through nothing more than an accident.

He was someone who made mistakes, and when he did, everyone paid for them. 

The two of them weren’t different in that sense. Not at all. 

But that, more than anything, was what made Sunny hesitant. 

The person he trusted least was himself. Last time he trusted his own reflection he had to destroy it. 

Albus Dumbledore wasn’t evil per say, but he was human, too human, and too much like him. He was capable of mistakes, of misjudgments. Good intentions, be it of self preservation or the preservation of the world, it could lead people to do the worst of things, in all matters and shapes. 

If Sunny told him everything, and if there was no way back home, he wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore decided that it was too dangerous for him to be alive. Hell, he agreed with that sentiment. 

What if his mind, all of his knowledge, fell into the wrong hands? It wasn’t a risk worth being afforded for the likes of him. He doubted Dumbledore would actually want to kill him, some obliviation or mind magic and shit at best probably, but the thought of forgetting everything was way, way, way, way more horrifying than anything else. He would take death if it came to that. Fuck, he was close to taking death now.  

If it weren’t for the smallest chance of him getting home, he would’ve already killed himself a long time ago. At week one probably. Both because of the dangers he brought others, and the dangers others brought to him. He had no intention of sitting through torture or whatever Voldermort would do if he found out what was in his head.

…home. 

That was another reason that he should go and tell Dumbledore everything. 

There was a chance, however small, that the guy could help him go back. If Sunny didn’t tell him of his knowledge, only of his dissonance with this world and his reality, maybe the headmaster could help him. But then, maybe he wouldn’t believe him. Maybe without any evidence, evidence which would literally just be hey I know the plot, and ask the Hat and tell him I dont give a shit about the hat-student confidentially crap, Dumbledore would disregard him entirely, send him to wizard mental hospital or something. 

Hell maybe this Dumbledore was completely different from canon, and he really was just an evil manipulative bastard who would use this knowledge for the worst, maybe this world was just very different from everything he knew! He hadn’t been here long enough to know for sure if everything was the same! He barely met a handful of people if he counted Providence’s numerous clients, and most of them were never mentioned in the books. It was possible that this world was fundamentally different, even if he doubted the likelihood of it being too altered from its original premise. 

And maybe every single one of his worries was wrong, and Dumbledore would not only find a way back to his family and friends, but he would be able to fix things in this world, and allow this reality to be better than the one that came before. 

He just didn’t know. 

Every single fucking scenario, both the good and the bad, were unlikely but not impossible. 

It was too unpredictable. Too dangerous to out himself like that. 

He should just keep his head down. Find a way home. 

But being in the situation he was in now, with so much power that came from knowing so many things that could help so many people… wasn’t he ethically obligated to do something?

Sunny wasn’t sure. 

Manipulative or not, at least Dumbledore strived to do the right thing using the knowledge he had over everybody else. If he decided to do nothing instead of something, he was arguably worse than who some people (once himself included) would call a cruel, awful man. 

But being a bystander was hardly his worst sin, and he’d burn in hell regardless of what he did now. 

Hah, maybe this was hell. The thought crossed his mind more than once these passing weeks, and each time it felt just as true as it did absurd. 

…or maybe this was his opportunity for atonement. 

The thought made his chest feel colder than the chill of the window against his head. 

Maybe that was it. Maybe the universe saw he committed a disgusting wrong, and decided he should, in turn, correct this world’s mistakes and make everything here right.

Maybe he was sent here to have a chance to help instead of to hurt. 

Sunny tried not to frown, heart quickening in its beat.  

He couldn’t just do nothing, then. 

He couldn’t just sit back and watch this world burn because he couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger.  

He had to do something. 

But the idea of doing anything at all was beyond terrifying–

Mewo suddenly purred in his lap, stretching her legs unconsciously and kicking the air for a second before relaxing in his arms. The familiar yet foreign sensation cut him from his thoughts.

Sunny glanced back down at her, his unconsciously tense face melting into a fond look. The sight of her was mostly blanketed by darkness, dark shadows embracing them both and making the corners of her face and the ends of his bed obscure. But the dim moonlight fell over half of her furry body, lining the curves of her belly and chin as well as the side of his arm and the hand that petted her. 

Sweet thing, he missed her so much.

Not that this was the same cat, of course, but… he could project quite a bit with little guilt. 

He turned back to the window, watching the rain for a few more moments. 

It was dark, and it was late, and he’d have to wake up in only a few hours for his first day of school. 

He should probably sleep.

Sunny gently moved the kitty, setting her down slowly on a small pillow he had placed on the nicest looking corner of the windowsill. He paused for a moment once she was placed, hovering above her. She made no sign of waking up. Good. He relaxed. 

The rain continued to shower down against the glass beside him, the sound soothing and steady, keeping her asleep and making him drowsy as well. 

Pushing himself off the windowsill to his bed, he dipped his legs into the wavy ocean of blankets and pulled the covers over himself, snuggling his head into the pillow. He stared up at the curved, low, marble ceiling of his bunk, his heavy eyes sliding to look at the hollowed sections of the wall, where books and other little personal decorations could easily fit inside. 

Decorations. 

The word reminded him of Atticus’ gift. A room waiting for him inside of Providence’s Potions, one where the decor would be paid out of his own pocket, one where he was allowed to leave his belongings inside during and between the holidays. 

A small smile made its way to his lips, a bigger warmth blooming in his chest. 

He didn’t intend on staying so long, he needed to get home, but the thought of Atticus’ kindness made him happier than he thought he should be. 

Sunny made a mental note to write a letter for him in the morning. 

.

..

.

It was less than 5 AM, if the foggy headache and dark but clear skies were anything to go by. 

Even though Sunny only got like four hours of sleep max, he couldn’t bring himself to go back. His dreams were white, and peaceful, and familiar in a way that made everything inside of him shrivel up and die. His sleep wasn’t deep enough to be dreamless, and he wasn’t keen on regressing to Whitespace now too or anything related to that after everything that happened, all the progress he worked so hard to make. 

And that’s how he found himself watching the sun slowly rise by the blue-turning-red horizon a whole entire hour later, all bundled up in a cocoon of blankets, his back resting against the hard wall behind him and his head leaning against a small pillow he placed between himself and the cold window. The air smelled vaguely of wet dirt, but that was probably thanks to the fact that a), he was in an ancient castle, and b), it had rained. 

The morning chill from the icy glass seeped into the cushion, but the warmth of his own body combated it easily enough. The air was crisp, his tiny window-door having been left open throughout the night, allowing the cold to enter his pod and settle. Goosebumps bubbled across his cold cheeks and forehead, and Sunny cuddled deeper into his blankets, gripping them a bit tighter. 

With groggy eyes and a heavy body, he slumped deeper into that small corner, gazing tiredly at the beautiful sight outside. The Ravenclaw tower was so high up, but he wasn’t afraid. The rising sun allowed him to see the clear pink-and-purple gradient sky and the distant rolling hills, the wispy lines of a few emerging clouds and the black sharp roofs of the school below. Most were drowned in shadow, but as the sun continued to rise, many were flooded with the outlines of burning gold, red, and yellow. 

Now that the day was really peeking up, it didn’t take long for the other students to stir awake. It was a quiet affair, or at least, an audibly muffled one, because Sunny could barely hear his roommates’ voices on the other side of the curtains as they all chattered and got ready to head downstairs to eat. 

Sunny didn’t want to follow them. He wasn’t hungry. But he knew that eventually he’d have to head down and force some food into himself. He already avoided dinner yesterday, and he didn’t want to end up in the Hospital Wing so soon. 

He had to go downstairs, and he needed to behave like a person. 

What kind of person he should be…

That was up to him. 

Sunny sighed, the heavy weight of an important decision familiar in numbing ways, and closed his eyes. 

It was like that that Sunny fell into his decision. Cocooned between blankets and bathed by the gold-pink sunrise, leaning against the cold glass and hearing the waking purrs of his cat.

It wasn’t option one. 

It wasn’t option two, either. 

He wasn’t going to run head-first into danger, and he wasn’t going to give himself up to Dumbledore. Too dangerous, too risky, too stupid, too damn scary. But he wasn’t going to sit back and let history run its course either. He couldn’t. There was no reality where he could live with himself if he did. 

The universe gave him a chance to be better, to do good by someone instead of bad. He wasn’t going to give that up. 

And so, Sunny made a list in his mind.

It was a simple one to keep him on track of the broad strokes of his goals, one that he could base all his ideas on, no matter how vague. 

He just had to stop Pettigrew, protect Harry, stay secret, but above all: go home.

There wasn’t anything else in his head, no plan, no guide, no next step. Not yet, in any case, but there would be soon. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. Not when it affected his temporary Potter-Reality Life, and the lives of these people that were permanently here, in this once-fictional world he was thrusted into without any clear explanation of his purpose. 

Change the world or leave it, the Hat said. 

And damn it all to shit, Sunny would die before he didn’t do both.

—

Suzuki was already in the Great Hall by the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived to have breakfast. Because of course he’d be an early riser, unlike the rest of them, and of course he had to be sorted in the only House that sat right next to Gryffindor.

Harry successfully didn’t let it sour his mood. But as soon as he finished his food and the three of them got their schedules from Professor McGonagall, all with Divination first, he had the wildest urge to go to class early for the first time in his life. 

“Come on now, it sounds like a great class! I’m sure it will be very fun, don’t want to miss a second of it!” was the only explanation he had to give a very annoyed (and still eating) Ron, and a beaming Hermione who, although she didn’t seem to be excited about the class itself, was certainly delighted with what she thought was Harry’s new productive habit. 

She was already out of her seat by the time the words finished leaving his mouth, nodding her head with so much enthusiasm Harry was afraid he'd made a mistake. “I think that’s a brilliant idea, Harry. Let’s go right now and–” There was a noise of protest from the boy she was trying to pull up along with her. “Oh, for God’s sake Ron just bring the food with you!” 

And so they promptly made their way to the classroom. 

Harry immediately regretted what was definitely his worst mistake of the year. The classroom was in one of the highest towers in the school, and there were so many staircases to go to one bloody room that he was half-afraid his legs would give out and he’d topple down to his death. 

Who needed to teach from so high up?! This was ridiculous!

Eventually they made it to the class, and they found themselves a spot in one of the many empty circular tables that were strewn about the deep red candle-lit room. With how high up they were, they should’ve had a beautiful view through the windows, but Harry would never know for sure since each and every one of them was drawn shut, their scarlet drapes stopping a single drop of natural light from coming in. 

They settled in, Hermione already taking out her book and Ron reluctantly following in her example. Harry was in no rush, leaning his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. He looked around the room. Not a single other soul in sight, and it seemed that not even the professor was here.

“We’ve come too early, people haven’t even begun going to class yet…” mumbled Ron under his breath, clearly not meant for their ears, but the room was too quiet for any one of them to miss it. “I could hardly finish my toast.”

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. “Better to be early than late, and you’ve already eaten plenty.”

“Could’ve eaten more, did you see the bacon?”

“Goodness Ron, you act like you’re starving.”

“I may as well be, with the memory of it so fresh in my head!” 

“You could’ve brought the food with you!” 

“It’s bacon, Hermione! Do you know how bloody sticky they get if you grab them?!” 

Harry let them talk, disinterested but vaguely following the conversation. A few minutes passed and soon enough a few more students trickled in, most of them Ravenclaws and Gryffindors but a few from the other Houses as well. Parvati and Lavender sat a few tables behind him, and the two girls waved at them. Harry politely waved back, since Ron and Hermione were too busy arguing to notice. 

Then, because the universe actually despised him, a few more Ravenclaws walked in with Suzuki in toe, his eyes to the ground. His hair was loose and uncombed, and he hadn’t even tried doing his tie. It looked like he just rolled out of bed. 

He walked to a table in the farthest corner where some Hufflepuff girl was and sat down. 

Harry deadpanned immediately.  

“You’ve got to be joking.” 

The words weren’t meant to have slipped out, but they did and it was loud enough for Ron and Hermione to hear over their own (now more hushed) discussion. His two friends turned to him. They followed his gaze too quickly for Harry to flusteredly look away once his brain caught up to his actions, and while Hermione frowned at Suzuki’s direction, Ron looked back at Harry with a curious expression. 

“Okay, what’s going on with you and the Suzuki bloke? You’ve been avoiding him ever since breakfast.”

So he wasn’t nearly as subtle about it than he thought he was. 

Brilliant. 

Harry cleared his throat, ignoring the way his face was burning mildly with embarrassment. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, it’s got to be something, you don’t even avoid Malfoy like that. Did he do something?”

It was more about what he didn’t do, but Harry couldn’t say that. He got blatantly rejected in his request for friendship with the most shattering (literally) no he’s ever gotten in his life. The mention of Malfoy made the burn in his cheeks hotter. Now Harry was too bloody aware of how Draco felt when he refused to shake his hand, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

“It’s nothing, just drop it–”

“I won’t drop it, you’re acting all weird, and if it’s because of him I want to know it!” 

Thank God or Merlin that Suzuki was so far away from their table, because despite their weak attempts at keeping their volume low, he doubted that anybody within a three desk radius couldn’t hear them. 

“He’s just an arse, okay?!” snapped Harry in a hiss, because he knew Ron wouldn’t drop it until he gave him a reason. “There’s nothing more to it.”

“Malfoy’s an arse, and you don’t go to class early to avoid hi–” 

“How can you know that, though?” Hermione cut in, finally turning back to the two of them, her frown deepening. “You’ve never even talked with him.”

And that was part of the problem, but Harry could hardly say that. 

“I did talk to him,” said Harry firmly. He tried to, anyway. “During summer. Before you both arrived. And– and it went badly, alright? I just– I don’t want to be around him.” Mostly because he would run away if he tried, and that wasn’t the best of interactions to have for his self-confidence. “It’s fine. Forget about it.”

Ron’s face fell into a frown matching Hermione’s, and the two shared glances, but before they could ask any more questions the Professor dramatically walked in, whispering loudly in an airy voice. 

“Welcome, welcome… oh, it is so good to meet you all in the material plane at last…”

Class surely would be better than this conversation, so Harry tuned out from the two and turned to her, giving the woman his full attention. 

.

..

.

Class went insanely worse than the conversation. 

No, truly, it was actually laughable how badly it went. 

“O-oh, my boy, you have… the Grim! The omen… of death !”

The fact that he did, in fact, see a large black dog only a few days ago was not helping his mood. 

Harry left the classroom so quickly he lost both Ron and Hermione, who were still somewhere in the scurrying crowd that was flooding out the doors. He stuck his neck out, trying to spot them, but he could barely make anything out at all. Stuck between the urge to assume they’ve already left or the instinct to just sit and wait until they saw him, Harry lingered, moving further and further away from the students as he waited. He couldn’t bear the pitying and miserable glances he kept getting from everyone. 

Literally everyone had left by the time Harry started to walk, and he jogged a bit to try and make up for lost time. He dearly hoped McGonagall wouldn’t take off points for tardiness– it was only the first day!

There were a few people close by, but they were too far for him to see. Not far enough for their voices not to carry across the halls, however. 

“You don’t seem all too worried about Harry…”

It was a voice he vaguely recognized, though it was too distorted from the echo for him to tell for sure. But he could safely bet it was Lavender’s voice, and once the words processed through his mind, he sighed. 

“Do you not care?”

He didn’t know who she was directing the question to, but the fact that somebody wasn’t close to tears at the thought of his prophesied death was both a relief and a bit offending. 

Despite his initial impulse to ignore the conversation altogether, Harry strained his ears, trying to hear them better. 

“No, I do, but I just think he’ll be fine.” 

That was a voice he definitely couldn’t recognize, so he didn’t bother trying. It was a boy though, he knew that much. 

“Why do you say that?”

Another girl’s voice– probably Parvati. 

Then, the boy answered again, the clear American accent as he said the last two words making it all too clear that he wasn’t anybody Harry knew. Making it all too clear who exactly he was.

“Because he’s Harry Potter.” 

Suzuki’s answer made no sense, couldn’t make any sense, yet he spoke them with such conviction, with a confident tone one would use when they were commenting about the colour of the sky. A tone that simply contradicted every inch of his terrified behaviour before. 

Like many things about the boy, Harry didn’t know what to make of it. 

And this time, he wouldn’t be so stupid as to try.