Hari didn’t speak to Draco at all over the next few days. He didn’t tell Ron what the argument had been about, but Ron stayed by him, still glaring at Draco and Hermione from across the room. He was far too loyal to Hari sometimes, absolutely baffling Hari by how easily he threw glares at Draco and Hermione just because of him.

As February rolled around, the match with Ravenclaw drew nearer and Hari had yet to get his Firebolt back. Oliver Wood came over to Hari one evening, looking disgruntled, to tell him that he had tried to speak to Professor McGonagall about giving Hari back his broom. He failed to see the issue with saying that he didn’t care if Hari was thrown off his broom as long as he caught the Snitch first.

After Transfiguration one afternoon, Hari stayed back to ask McGonagall about getting his broom back.

“Hari, I will tell you when we finish inspecting your broom,” she said, giving him a severe frown. “Flitwick is still checking it for other, less obvious charms such as the Hurling hex. We aren’t doing this just to inconvenience you… Or Oliver Wood, for that matter. None of us would like to see you falling to your death because someone’s jinxed your broom.”

Hari groaned in frustration, messing up his dark brown hair. “Oliver is getting on my back about ordering a new broom, now. The school ones aren’t as good, obviously…”

“Well, I don’t mind buying it for you, as it is technically my fault I took it from you. Though I have no regrets,” she said, giving him a look over her glasses. “Speaking of which, you’re not ignoring Hermione and Draco just because of this bloody Firebolt business, are you? They both look miserable, particularly Draco.”

Hari stiffened at the mention of Draco. “Not really. That’s why Ron is, but I had an argument with Draco that was unrelated. He’s such a prat sometimes.” Minerva snorted in response, giving him a knowing look before sending him to his next lesson.

Hari was still thinking about his argument with Draco when he made his way to the History of Magic classroom that evening, going to meet with Remus. He hadn’t seen Remus since the argument and wasn’t sure how to feel about seeing him again.

His Patronus was still just a transparent, white light which didn’t do much besides exhaust him and frustrate him. With the mixture of guilt at still secretly wanting to hear his parents’ voices again and the confusion in learning about Remus being a werewolf, Hari was mostly unsuccessful in his attempts that evening.

“I think you’re expecting too much of yourself,” said Remus after the third failed attempt that evening. “Remember, this is incredibly advanced magic and it’s impressive enough what you’ve managed to do, at your age.”

Hari sighed, dropping his arm from pointing it at the dementor. “But I can’t afford to lose another match… I’ve got to be able to defend myself.”

“And I’m sure you will,” said Remus with certainty. “You haven’t fainted at all since the last few lessons.” At Hari’s halfhearted shrug in reply, he added, “Something’s been off this evening that is getting in the way of your Patronus work.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” said Hari bitterly, sitting down on the floor.

“I brought butterbeer this evening,” said Remus, moving to his briefcase and pulling out two bottles of the golden drink. “Why don’t we drink that and you can tell me what’s bothering you. Or sit in silence, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

They sat down on the floor, leaned against Professor Binns’ desk while they drank the cool liquid from the bottles Remus produced.

“Draco and I had a fight again,” said Hari after a few minutes. He put his bottle down beside him and dug his blunt fingernails into the grooves of the wooden floor. Remus paused his drinking and glanced at him, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “It’s… complicated. He told me something and I disagreed with how serious he thought it was. I was mad at him and I said ‘fuck you’ to him and left him and we haven’t spoken since.”

“That certainly sounds complicated. But I’m sure he has your best interests at heart,” said Remus, taking a sip of butterbeer. “You do have a habit of putting yourself in dangerous situations.”

“But this time I’m not putting myself in a dangerous situation. I’m certain of it.”

Remus looked pointedly at him over the brim of his drink, raising his eyebrows. “As your teacher, should I be worried about this?”

Hari took a deep breath. “I know you’re a werewolf.” Remus choked on his drink, spraying both of them with caramel liquid. Hari patted his back as he spluttered slightly, red in the face.

“How did you…?”

“Hermione and Draco figured it out after Snape covered your lesson and had us write about how to spot a werewolf,” Hari explained.

“Of course they did,” Remus muttered, shaking his head. “I’m assuming Draco saw this as more of an issue?”

“Aye, that was the argument. I didn’t agree with him.”

“You didn’t agree…” Remus was staring at a spot on the floor and Hari could see the cogs turning in his head.

“I don’t care,” said Hari firmly. Remus continued to look shocked, blinking at him, eyes shining in the low lighting. “I don’t care that you’re a werewolf. I’ve known you for years and just because you have a little furry problem once a month doesn’t make you any less of a good person. You’re not like Sirius Black. He chose to be a shitty person. You didn’t ask to be a werewolf.”

Remus’ face softened, his eyes watery. He stiffened at the mention of Sirius Black, but didn’t mention it. After a moment, he said, “I don’t think I say it enough, but you remind me so much of your mother sometimes. She was a remarkably kind woman, like yourself, and when she found out about my… condition, she reacted much the same as you.”

Hari smiled. No one ever said he reminded them of his mother. It was always just his father. It was nice to hear he gained some traits other than her eyes. Hari didn’t reply. He just smiled, taking a sip of his butterbeer and leaning his side against Remus. They stayed like this for a few more minutes, drinking their respective butterbeers on the floor.

“What happens if a dementor gets you?” asked Hari, voicing something he’d thought about often recently.

Remus lowered his drink thoughtfully, glancing sideways. “They call it the Dementor’s Kiss,” explained Remus grimly. “They clamp their jaws onto a victim… sucking out their soul from their body.”

“They kill them?” asked Hari in horrified shock, gaping.

“Worse, really. You will still be alive after the Kiss, but without a soul, you are basically catatonic. You will be left with no memory or thought or emotion. An empty shell. Lost forever,” said Remus, looking increasingly uncomfortable. He took a swig of his drink. “They’re going to use it on Black when he’s caught, apparently.” His eyes darkened slightly at this news.

“He deserves it after what he did,” said Hari after a beat.

“You really think anyone deserves that fate?” asked Remus thoughtfully, searching Hari’s face.

“For some things, I guess. He betrayed my parents and they’re dead now.”

At Hari’s pronouncement, they fell into silence once again. After a minute, Remus said, “Don’t hold it against Draco for too long, Hari. He is by far not the only one to feel that way and… I don’t want to come between you two.” Hari frowned. “I’m not ashamed of it, as I once was, but people still hold that sort of thing against people like me.”

Hari frowned. “But that’s so unfair! Why are people such twats about things people can’t control?” Hari stated exasperatedly. “I never thought Draco could be so prejudiced like this…”

Remus sighed, finishing off his drink. “Perhaps he will come around one day. I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Hari left a few minutes later, thanking Remus for the butterbeer. He was caught up thinking about the concept of the Dementor’s Kiss, which did little to ease his fear of them, not paying attention to where he was going. He was so distracted, he walked directly into someone, almost falling down a flight of stairs.

“Be careful—oh, Hari!” It was Minerva, standing looking slightly ruffled after getting run into. She helped maneuver Hari away from the edge of the stairs. “I was just looking for you, as a matter of fact.”

“Looking for me?”

Minerva nodded and produced from behind her back—

“My Firebolt!” Hari exclaimed, gaping at the broomstick held out in her hands. “I can have it back?”

“We’ve checked and double checked everything and there isn’t a single flaw. That’s a good broomstick you’ve got there, Hari. You better kick Ravenclaw’s arse at the match,” said Minerva as she let Hari take the broom from her hands, smiling at the familiar, buzzing weight of it. “Not that I’m biased or anything…”

“Oh, of course not,” said Hari, winking. “As Head of Gryffindor and the legal guardian of a Gryffindor and a former Gryffindor Quidditch player, you definitely have no bias for Gryffindor.”

“Precisely,” said Minerva, laughing. “You’d best go take that upstairs before Wood goes manic.”

Hari grinned, starting up the next flight of stairs. Minerva stopped him just as his foot landed on the bottom step, grabbing his arm. “Do apologise to Hermione and Draco, would you? They both looked positively miserable when I saw them in the common room just now.”

Hari stiffened. “I’ll apologise to Hermione. She was just looking out for me,” he said, carefully avoiding mentioning Draco. By the skeptical look on Minerva’s face, he knew she noticed, but she didn’t press, allowing Hari to sprint up the stairs to the common room.

He turned the corner to find Neville Longbottom standing in front of the portrait hole, looking frantic and paler than usual. Sir Cadogen was pompously telling him off about something. As Hari neared, Neville turned around, sighing in relief when he caught sight of his friend.

“This cur has been trying to trespass our territory, young man!” said Sir Cadogan, talking over Neville.

“I’ve lost the list full of passwords, Hari! And he won’t let me inside!” said Neville anxiously. “I must have dropped the list somewhere…”

“The password is ‘codswallop’,” said Hari, rolling his eyes at the clear disappointment on Sir Cadogan’s face as he reluctantly opened the portrait to let them in. “You truly have the most extraordinarily bad luck, Nev.”

“You think I don’t know that?” said Neville, stepping in first. He glanced down at Hari’s broom. “I see you got your Firebolt back! That’ll be ace in the match.”

After a few people overheard Neville’s comment, Hari was immediately bombarded by the entire common room as he arrived. Everyone wanted to know where he got it or if they could hold it or ride it, pushing and shoving each other to get a better view. Ron came and rescued Hari a few minutes later, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the crowd with promises of getting to hold it later.

“You’ve really got it back!” he said excitedly, looking down at the broomstick in Hari’s free hand.

Hari nodded, distracted as he looked over at the only two people that didn’t come to bombard him over his Firebolt. Hermione was writing furiously with her head bent, clearly avoiding their eyes while Draco seemed to find his book incredibly interesting as he pressed his nose into the pages.

“I reckon we owe Hermione an apology,” said Hari in a whisper to Ron, also glancing in their friends’ direction. “She was only looking out for me, after all.” Ron shrugged, but followed Hari over to their table.

“Mind if we sit down, Hermione?” asked Hari once they arrived, avoiding Draco’s eyes. Hermione made an odd, twitching nod motion and he sat down beside Hermione, farthest away from Draco as Ron took Hari’s Firebolt carefully upstairs. “I’m really sorry we’ve been avoiding you over the broom, Hermione. I know you were just looking out for me.”

Hermione smiled sheepishly, but he could recognise the hint of an ‘I told you so’ glimmering in her brown eyes. Hari looked up and caught Draco’s eyes for a split second before hastily looking down at the table. He busied himself by shifting Hermione’s many papers spread out on the table.

“How are you getting through all this, Hermione?” he asked skeptically, lifting a scroll that went right off the table, it was so long.

“Oh, you know… studying… working hard…” said Hermione dismissively, voice raising a pitch. Hari knew she was lying.

“Why don’t you just drop a few subjects?” he suggested. “You look close to breaking, Hermione.”

Hermione huffed, pulling her parchment away from Hari’s curious fingers, glaring. “I’m fine. It’s just a few extra essays to write, really. No fuss…”

“Have you even slept in days?”

“Of course I—!”

She was interrupted by a familiar shrieking sound from up the stairs, making everyone in the common room jump and silence their conversations. A moment later, a door slammed and Ron came hurtling down the stairs, clutching his bed sheets and looking half-hysterical.

“LOOK!” he roared, holding up his bedsheets, which were stained rather alarmingly with patches of dark red blood. “Look at what that demon did to Scabbers! He wasn’t in his usual spot because your fucking cat killed him!” He pointed threateningly in Hermione’s face, shaking.

“Oh, rubbish!” Hermione snapped, slapping his hand away and getting to her feet. “How do you know it was Crookshanks?”

Ron shoved the sheets in her face. “LOOK! There’s ginger cat hairs!” he hissed.

“Ron, don’t be stupid. You have ginger hair, need I remind you?” retorted Hermione.

“Not fur! Your stupid cat ate Scabbers!”

Draco stood up as well, putting a protective arm on Hermione’s shoulder and scowling at Ron fiercely. “How do you know it was Crookshanks? It could have been Leo for Merlin’s sake! He literally sleeps in the same room!”

“I know it was Crookshanks!” snapped Ron. “Leo doesn’t have ginger fur and he’s tiny compared to the absolute beast Hermione’s got!”

“Just because you can’t take care of your stupid pet doesn’t mean you’ve got to take it out on me!” Hermione raged, grabbing her things and storming up the stairs to her dormitory.

¤¤¤

The days following were some of the worst for Hari’s friendship. Ron and Hermione were now avoiding each other yet again, both too angry to do anything but scowl at each other from opposite sides of the room. Hari, meanwhile, was still avoiding Draco like a forest fire, unable to even look him in the eye. Despite what Remus said, he still couldn’t quite bring himself to forgive him. Hermione was now mad at Hari as well because he was in the mind that Crookshanks did eat Scabbers, seeing as Leo was definitely too small to eat him and also didn’t have as much of a death wish for him.

“Of course you take Ron’s side!” Hermione said shrilly. “Why are Draco and I always the villains? First the Firebolt and then Remus and now Ron’s rat!”

For someone that never stopped complaining about his pet normally, Ron was absolutely distraught over Scabbers’ death. Nothing seemed to cheer him up. Fred and George tried to help, reminding him that he only ever complained about how boring Scabbers was, but he simply ignored them.

Finally, Hari offered to bring Ron to his last Quidditch practice before the match, promising to let Ron try out his Firebolt after practice. Thankfully, it seemed to cheer him up slightly as he followed Hari, Fred and George down to the pitch together.

After letting Madam Hooch check out the new Firebolt for the first few minutes, Ron went over to the stands to watch and Hari jogged over to join his teammates. When he joined the huddle, Wood slung his arm around his shoulders. “Right, I’ve just learned that the Seeker Ravenclaw has got is Mei Chang. She’s a fourth year and quite skilled,” said Wood, looking disappointed, “I had hoped she would still be injured, but you’ve got a much better broom, Hari.”

Hari took off into the air and began testing out the broom, swooping around the field at lightning speed as the others cheered. It was as though he was the air itself, zipping easily through the air, weaving in and out between the other players and through the goal hoops, whooping triumphantly. It was like nothing else he’d ever done in his life, diving and soaring with the ease of a gust of wind and the precision and talent of a dancer. After Oliver released the Snitch into the air, he was able to catch it within ten seconds.

He was able to catch the Snitch effortlessly, giving it head starts before soaring after the tiny golden ball, catching it in his hand like he was magnetized to it.

“We’ll be unbeatable with that!” said Wood after the sixth immediate catch in a row. “As long as you’ve got your dementor problem worked out, right?”

“Yep. I’ll be fine,” said Hari, though his gut twisted nervously all the same.

“It’ll be fine, Ollie,” said George confidently. “Dumbledore was positively mad last time. They won’t be coming anywhere near.”

Oliver didn’t seem to share the confidence, frowning. “Even still… We can’t afford another loss.”

They finished practice a few minutes later and Hari said goodbye to the others as they made their way up to the castle together. Ron hurried over to meet Hari. Over in the stands, Madam Hooch was fast asleep.

“Have fun,” said Hari, grinning as he handed over the broom.

He sat watching Ron soaring through the air, diving and swooping, looking ecstatic as he cheered and laughed. The wind whipped his fiery red hair out of his face, giving him a particularly mad look as he grinned broadly. Madam Hooch startled awake after one of Ron’s loud shouts of triumph, taking off ten points before sending them on their way.

They walked off the pitch together, still discussing the aerodynamics and the acceleration of the Firebolt as they walked up the path to the school.

“...And the way you don’t even have to tilt it that much and it just goes with you?” Ron was saying. Hari froze, his heart thudding to the floor. He looked over at a tree on the side of the path where the same shaggy, black dog was sitting underneath it, panting. Ron stumbled at Hari’s sudden stop. “Whasamatter?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Lumos!” said Hari, pointing it over towards the tree. “Look over by that tree!”

Crouching in the leaves, by the light of Hari’s wand, he saw Crookshanks. The black dog was gone. He must have just been seeing things. Ron shooed Crookshanks away angrily and they hurried up the rest of the way to the castle, Ron ranting about the audacity of Crookshanks roaming free while Scabbers was in his stomach.

Despite realising it was just Crookshanks, Hari still felt uneasy. He could have sworn he saw the Grim again…

Hari didn’t voice his concerns as he made the rest of the journey up to Gryffindor tower with Ron. When he got there, Hermione and Draco were in their usual corner, ignoring his entrance. Hari told Ron to save him a seat by the fire while he went up to the dormitory to put away his Firebolt, ignoring the continuous pleas from people wanting to ride it.

When he got upstairs, Harry saw Neville’s toad, Trevor, sitting in his tank on Neville’s bed, croaking as he walked in. He huffed a laugh, moving to put away his broomstick. He was still thinking about the Grim’s appearances over the last few months, failing to notice the shadow that crossed just over his shoulder.

As Hari moved away from putting his broomstick away, he saw a flash of black just in front of him before a searing pain went up his arm and he fell over onto the floor. He yelped in surprise, looking down at two long slashes down the back of his arm, not too deep but sore nonetheless. Sitting in front of him, hair raised and hissing, was Draco’s cat Leo.

Leo had always been a gentle and soft cat compared to Crookshanks, spending much of his time curled up in someone’s lap or hiding in strange places. In one eventful circumstance, Seamus had opened his wardrobe to find Leo sitting inside, green eyes staring up at him, purring contently.

“Did you just scratch me?” Hari asked the cat, scowling. Leo blinked, teeth bared. Still clutching his bleeding arm, he went back down the stairs.

“What happened to your arm, Hari? Was Crookshanks up there?” asked Ron as Hari returned. He glanced at Hari’s bleeding arm and shot a glare in Hermione’s direction.

“No, actually. It was Leo.”

“Leo scratched you?” said Draco. He looked up from his book, eyes zoning in on the scratch up Hari’s arm.

“Yes,” said Hari sharply. “I was putting away my Firebolt and he just pounced out of nowhere!”

Draco stood up, walking over to inspect Hari’s arm with furrowed brows. Hari tried to move his arm away, but the other boy was too fast, grabbing his wrist and looking at the long cuts from his cat. “You must have upset him or something. He wouldn’t attack for any other reason,” said Draco sternly. Hari yanked his arm away, glaring.

“I didn’t do anything! I was just putting my broomstick away. I didn’t even see him!” snapped Hari.

“Clearly, the cats in this tower have it out for everyone,” interjected Ron.

Hari moved away before Draco or Hermione could add anything else, pulling Ron by his sleeve and back to the couch. He ignored the stares of the people still in the common room and conjured up a makeshift plaster for his arm.