Resolved or Unresolved
Harry knew it had been a possibility that he would be sorted Slytherin. He thought that he could talk the hat out of it though, just as he had the first time.
Apparently time-travelers with ‘bad prior sortings’ didn’t get as much of an option as fresh faced first years.
It made Harry feel exceptionally unhappy when he sat down at the Slytherin table. Against all odds, Harry and Sirius were together. It was possibly the strangest thing to ever happen to Harry, but they were there together. They got a second chance to do everything right together.
And Harry went to freaking Slytherin while Sirius would be a shoo-in for Gryffindor.
Sirius had clapped and whistled when Harry was sorted, after he finished looking so horribly shocked, so Harry didn’t think that they wouldn’t be friends… necessarily… but - but Harry had spent a month thinking that Sirius had died and he didn’t fancy them having separate dorms and classes.
It was a good thing that none of the Slytherins at the table tried talking to Harry, he didn’t know that he wouldn’t start cursing or crying if he was forced to speak. Their uneasy looks were bad enough for Harry to duck his head while he waited for the sorting to end.
The other students were sorted exactly as they had been in Harry’s true first year. He saw when Ron sorted Gryffindor and felt his heart ache when Ron slid in a seat across from a very small and bushy-haired Hermione.
Ron had hated Slytherin students, he did from his very first day. How was Harry meant to convince him they should be friends if they were in different houses? Maybe Sirius could talk to Ron? Befriend him and convince him that Harry wasn’t a ‘slimy snake’?
That image hurt Harry too when he thought about Sirius taking Harry’s bed in the Slytherin dorm, befriending the boys in their year. Sirius was so cheerful, so clearly happy to have been given a second chance… Harry didn’t want to drag him down any, but Harry had spent the afternoon thinking it would be the two of them doing it all together.
Once Blaise Zabini was sent to Slytherin, and he sat himself beside Harry in the gap Harry didn’t notice the other students creating around him, Professor McGonagall looked to Dumbledore. There was only one student left, one smirking kid who kept looking around the room and winking.
It would have been really funny if Harry were on the opposite end of Hall.
“We had one late admission.” Professor Dumbledore waved gently to where Sirius waited. “Black, Sirius, please, have a seat.”
There had been whispers for Harry and there were just as many for Sirius. Harry figured that the recent death of Inmate Black (because it wasn’t Harry’s Sirius who died), that Sirius would experience some of the notoriety that Harry dealt with his entire life.
Sirius didn’t seem to mind the whispers, not that Harry expected him to. Sirius loped toward the stool with casual confidence and even whispered something undoubtedly cheeky to Professor McGonagall before the hat was dropped on his head.
Harry thought it would be quick, Sirius was as brave and brash as they came. It didn’t take long, really, half the time Harry’s did, it was the result that shocked Harry.
“SLYTHERIN!”
Harry didn’t mean to make the same slack-jawed expression Sirius had when Harry was sorted, he just hadn’t expected it at all. Sirius whipped the hat off with a dramatic flourish and Harry saw his smug smile.
That was all it took for Harry to stand up and begin cheering just as loud for Sirius as Sirius had him. Harry didn’t care that he was being stared at or that someone commented how they weren’t surprised that a Black was sent to Slytherin. Harry cared that Sirius was walking to the Slytherin table and that they weren’t going to be separated.
“You looked worried,” Sirius said playfully when he strutted down the table and sat down across from Harry.
“I heard all the Blacks go to Slytherin,” Harry said, sinking back down and once again feeling his mood flip itself at the never ending surprises of the day. “Just because your dad was a Gryffindor didn’t mean you would be, you know.”
Sirius threw his head back and laughed freely, making Harry that much happier. They were getting many sideways looks from the others, they didn’t care at all.
Blaise Zabini, a good-looking boy that Harry never had much to do with before, leaned toward them with a conspiratorial half-grin on his face.
“I think Professor Snape isn’t pleased,” he whispered to them while Dumbledore gave his speech.
Harry made the mistake of looking to where Snape sat and saw that ‘isn’t pleased’ was quite the downplay.
“Oh, he’s pissed,” Sirius laughed cheerfully.
‘Pissed’ might also have been a mild portrayal as Harry had never in his life seen Snape look so angry. Snape must have sensed Harry’s eyes on him because the glare he gave Harry was nothing short of venomous.
It was the sudden sharp pain in Harry’s forehead that made him hiss and look to Snape’s left. The moment Harry looked at Quirrel, Quirrel turned his head.
“Ugh.” Harry groaned and kicked Sirius beneath the table. “I - er… might have forgotten about something sort of important,” he whispered.
Sirius tilted his head, but with Zabini seeming to scoot closer to them to join their conversation, Harry couldn’t say much.
“I’ll tell you later,” he muttered. It was perfect timing when Dumbledore sat down and dishes popped up on the table. “Oh, good… food.”
Harry wasn’t terribly hungry, he had lunch with Sirius and then sundaes at the ice cream parlor (and why had Harry spent so many days at that shop and never once learned about his father being a regular there?). Sirius didn’t seem to remember their lunch as he began piling his plate high with food.
“Sirius James Black.” Sirius offered his hand across the table to Zabini with another grin. “I missed your name, mate, was it Blade?”
Zabini wasn’t bothered by Sirius (probably pretending) not remembering his name correctly. He smartly shook Sirius’s hand then offered it to Harry.
“Blaise Zabini,” he told them. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“That remains to be seen,” Sirius said. He leaned forward so he could look at the other first years clustered past Zabini. “Oi, did your parents not raise you with any manners?”
Harry thought that was rich of Sirius to say since apparently they were both orphans - orphans, same middle name, nearly identical birthdays… Sirius wasn’t subtle, was he? It did whatever trick Sirius wanted though as there was a flurry of hands being offered and names being shared.
Since Harry knew, and didn’t like, most of the students, he ignored them altogether. Sirius didn’t though, he was a social butterfly as he continued to introduce himself, over and over, by his full name.
“Sirius James Black?” Malfoy, typically, was the only one to question Sirius’s name and identity. “Who are your parents?”
“Sirius Black and Mary Macdonald,” Sirius said, the lie spilling off his tongue with an ease that Harry envied. “Secret love child, orphan… quite tragic.”
Harry grinned despite his best efforts at the cheer in Sirius’s tone.
“Terribly tragic,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and feeling fond of Sirius’s antics. Sirius had never, ever, been so happy and easy-going in all the time Harry knew him. Sirius had been haunted, hunted, locked up, imprisoned, and sick. Harry never got to see him happy and relaxed outside of in Snape’s memory.
“And I imagine your dad would be so proud of you too,” Harry tacked on, teasing Sirius.
“Right?” Sirius said to Harry quite emphatically, ignoring Malfoy and his scrunched up face of confusion. “I can just imagine dear old dad and the loving letters he would send me if he were still alive.”
Harry might have seemed cold-hearted when he snorted at Sirius’s theatrics, but it had been such a rollercoaster of a day - of a month, if Harry were honest - that all of Sirius’s antics were funnier than expected.
“He might not have been.”
Harry and Sirius both leaned forward so they could look at the boy on the other side of Zabini. Small, slight, with neatly combed brown hair and a light smattering of freckles across his nose, Harry struggled to place his name.
Maybe Harry should have listened to the introductions… he did tell himself he would try and branch out more on his second-chance, he should probably start with his housemates who weren’t Malfoy.
“No?” Sirius blinked at the boy. “Why not?”
The boy might have been Nott, once Harry considered it. Harry didn’t know much about him at all, but Hermione had mentioned being partners with him in Arithmancy in their fourth year for a project.
“Well, he was a Gryffindor, wasn’t he?” Nott said, his shoulders curling inward once he saw he was the focus of many pairs of eyes. “My - my father was friends with your grandparents, Walburga and Orion Black?”
Harry kicked his leg out and touched his foot to Sirius’s under the table when he saw the light twitch in Sirius’s hand at the mention of his parents. Sirius never said it outright, but Harry had gotten the impression that his family had been foul to him. It was something that always made Harry feel more connected to Sirius, their shared history of being raised by people who shouldn’t have been allowed to have children.
Sirius twisted his foot, linking Harry’s ankle with his in a way that made Harry feel better. After spending a month thinking he was dead, Harry didn’t think that he would be sick of spending all his time with Sirius anytime soon. Most likely, Sirius would be sick of Harry much sooner than Harry would him.
“Well, maybe he would have hated me then,” Sirius told Nott casually. “It’s a good thing that Minister Fudge had him killed in his sleep, isn’t it?”
Harry breathed very deeply and then began calmly eating some potatoes, listening while Sirius regaled the entire table with a very loud and ridiculous story about how Sirius Orion Black had been killed on Minister Fudge’s orders.
Harry might have objected if he didn't remember, quite clearly, that Fudge had been both perfectly willing to see Harry expelled and sent Dolores Umbridge to Hogwarts. There was probably no real harm in Sirius’s tale, but Harry certainly wouldn’t defend Fudge if there ever was.
And speaking of people that Harry wasn’t actually terribly fond of…
An older student, not one that Harry recognized at all, had been waved up to the Head Table when the dinner turned to desserts. She had very straight black hair and marched down to where Harry and Sirius were sat at the end of the table.
“Black.” The girl said Sirius’s name curtly, but not necessarily cruelly. She wore a prefect badge and a Slytherin tie, which made Harry think her name was Fawley? Maybe?
Harry really had been quite wrapped up in his own world during his time at school, hadn’t he? That would change, he swore to it. If Harry could squash all the mad events that happened at Hogwarts before they happened, maybe he could have more of a normal student experience.
Normal… a novelty.
“Hello!” Sirius turned on the bench so he could offer Fawley his hand. Harry mouthed the words along with him as he introduced himself: “Sirius James Black, pleasure to meet you.”
The girl, who did introduce herself as Prefect Fawley, shook Sirius’s hand with a neutral expression.
“Your presence is requested in Headmaster Dumbledore’s office immediately after the feast,” Fawley told him. “I can show you the way.”
Harry’s stomach sank at Sirius being requested by Dumbledore. It had to be because of his surprise arrival, right? There was no way that Dumbledore was going to make him leave? Or somehow guessed that Sirius wasn’t quite who he was saying he was?
“Thanks,” Sirius told Fawley. “I can find my way though.”
If Fawley thought it was strange that a first year student claimed to know the way to the Headmaster’s office, she didn’t say so. Fawley only nodded to Sirius, nodded to Harry, then returned to where she had been seated with the other Slytherins that looked to be in sixth and seventh years.
“The Headmaster wants to see you?” Malfoy had leaned back toward where Harry and Sirius were sat and his eyes were narrowed while he watched Sirius load his plate with desserts. “Why?”
“To congratulate me on being the most skilled first year, I imagine,” Sirius said airily. “As if I need his praise.”
When Sirius’s mildly bitter comment got a harsh nod of agreement from Harry (for the sentiment if not the actual message), Malfoy started to smile.
‘Interesting’ was all he said as he sat back in his seat though, causing Harry to scowl in warning. If Malfoy tried to screw with Sirius, then Harry had five years of education and five years of pent-up anger to release on him.
“Reckon I can go with you?” Harry asked Sirius hopefully when the others melted back in their own conversations.
“Where? To Dumbledore’s office?” Sirius asked. He snorted when Harry nodded. “Be hard to do, since I’m not going.”
Harry, who had spent the last year being ignored by Dumbledore at every turn, couldn’t help but feel satisfied that Sirius too wasn’t exactly happy with the Headmaster. The Dumbledore they had hadn’t done anything wrong to them, yet and never if Harry could do things right, but Harry wasn’t exactly eager to go chasing after him either.
“Oh, damn.” Harry swore quietly when he thought about how much he had wanted Dumbledore’s praise in his first year. “He’s got my cloak,” he muttered to Sirius with an unhappy grimace.
“Dumbledore does?” Sirius asked, a fork of cake halfway to his mouth. When Harry nodded once again, Sirius mirrored his grimace. “Mother fucker.”
That certainly earned them another round of looks, though it was nothing compared to the ones they got when the feast ended and Harry and Sirius fell right in step with the students headed to the dungeons.
“You love this,” Harry accused Sirius as the first years began whispering to the others about how Black ignored a summons from the Headmaster. Sirius looked like he was preening, being the center of attention.
“Me? No!” Sirius tossed his arm over Harry’s shoulder and tipped his head until their heads bumped together. “You know me, pup, I hate attention. I like to stay in the background, you see.”
Harry snickered and was so cheered by all of everything that the walk to the Slytherin dorms didn’t even seem as daunting as it should have. It hurt Harry to not be headed to the Gryffindor dorms, curling up in a bed beside Ron and whispering late in the night while they cemented their fast friendship, but it was hard to be openly bothered while Sirius was just so happy.
The passage to the Slytherin dorm was as cold and unfriendly as Harry remembered it being in his second year. It didn’t make Harry very hopeful for a comfortable seven years, but he thought he might try and make the best of it.
“The password is Pantherophis Guttatus,” Fawley told them all, stroking her finger down the center of the stone door. The door slid in the wall, granting them all access to the common room.
“I’ll never remember that,” Harry whispered to Sirius, thinking of the password.
“Why should you?” Sirius asked. It was a strange question that Harry didn’t get a chance to answer as Fawley was calling for all their attention.
She stood in front of the fireplace with another older boy who Harry didn’t know and she waited for all the Slytherins to enter the common room and quiet down before speaking to them.
“Welcome to Slytherin,” she said, not needing to yell as the students were all respectfully silent. It wouldn’t be like that in Gryffindor, but Harry was too curious about what she had to say to even think about being rowdy.
“I have a short welcoming speech for our newcomers, though some of you others should be listening as well.” Fawley sent a sharp look at a cluster of older students who smirked and shouldered each other.
“Slytherin is what I consider to be the greatest house,” Fawley told them, earning a quick grimace from Sirius. “We have ambition, cleverness, resourcefulness, and are what I believe to be a more traditional house than the others.”
Harry couldn’t fault her there, Slytherin was certainly traditional.
“Our downfall tends to be that many other students, and staff, don’t see traditions as something to be valued and they see us as more sneak than snake. Because of this immature view of our house, Slytherin students are typically targeted more by other houses in areas of bullying and harassment.”
Harry glanced at Sirius, but Sirius was boredly buffing his nails on his shirt. They were… shockingly clean? Harry never noticed Sirius’s nails much before, but Sirius as a whole (as a child) was rather well-groomed. It made sense, with Sirius’s whole ‘you can’t go to Hogwarts in castoffs’ spiel, but it still caught Harry off-guard.
Sirius was technically a man in his thirties though…
Fawley gave them a few standard pieces of information about class schedules and ‘going to Professor Snape if they needed anything vital’. That note actually made Harry feel angry when he thought about how he tried to get Snape’s help what felt like just days ago…
“He’s got Padfoot!” Harry cried desperately, looking to Snape. Harry stared in his eyes and tried to will the man to look in his mind. “He’s got Padfoot in the place where it’s hidden.”
“What?” Umbridge had her wand out, pointed at Harry, and she turned her head to stare at Snape. “What’s he talking about?”
Snape made no indication at all that he understood Harry, not one.
“I have no idea.”
Fat chance that Harry would go to Snape for anything ever again.
“Prefect Maugans will begin reading requests from last semester while I hand out the new time-tables,” Fawley said, giving a name to the other prefect. Fawley took a stack of parchments off the mantle over the fireplace and began with the first-years, smirking when she didn’t have one for Sirius.
“I expect the Headmaster has yours,” she told him.
“Oh no, how will I figure out what classes I have without my own schedule?” Sirius said deadpan.
Harry snorted, easily handing over his so that Sirius could look at the schedule. Slytherin shared so many classes with Gryffindor that Harry didn’t need the schedule and he was more interested in what Maugans was doing anyway.
Maugans, a grim-faced boy with light brown skin, had a parchment of his own and he read a few pairs of names off it in a ritual Harry didn’t understand. It certainly wasn’t anything like the first night in Gryffindor when the house occasionally had their own small parties.
“White and Pearison.” Maugans looked out and Harry turned his head, seeing one of the students he addressed. The girl, a seventh-year Harry thought, she her head.
“Resolved,” she said.
Maugans nodded, “Flint and Langley?”
“Resolved,” grunted Flint, the boy that Harry knew was the Slytherin quidditch captain.
“And Lestrange and Bulstrode, Maurice?”
A tall boy, older though Harry couldn’t gauge what year he was, stepped forward. A shiver of dislike trickled down Harry’s spine when he saw dark brown eyes, a strong jaw, and cropped dark hair.
“Unresolved,” he said loudly.
Sirius leaned so close to Harry that his lips were touching Harry’s ear.
“Rabastan’s son,” Sirius breathed very quietly, his warm breath tickling Harry’s skin. “Bastard, but his mother gave him the Lestrange name.”
Harry wanted to ask how Sirius knew that, but changed his mind when Lestrange walked to the front of the group of students, roughly shouldering Harry as he went.
“Wanker,” Sirius called toward him, smirking when Lestrange turned his glower on him. “I’ll be next then,” he told Maugans, confusing Harry further.
“Noted,” Maugans drawled. “Bulstrode?”
Harry looked toward the girl in his year - she was small as a first year… - but it was a much older boy who stepped up. Harry guessed that he was Millicent Bulstrode’s brother, judging by their similar face shapes and the unfortunate way that Millicent had strongly resembled the boy when she and Harry were fifteen.
“Everyone else, back up,” Fawley said. “Anyone without an issue is dismissed, we go to breakfast at seven-fifteen sharp. Do not be late.”
Harry didn’t think he had any sort of issue - any issue that would be resolved in one night anyway - but Sirius caught Harry’s wrist before Harry could follow a few of the other first years to the dorms. Most of the other first year boys stayed as well, it had only been Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott who slipped away toward their beds.
“You’re going to leave me to duel without a second?” Sirius asked Harry, making his eyes go comically wide even if he was grinning ridiculously. “That’s not very loyal of you.”
“And I don’t think we’re wearing yellow,” Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes. “Who are you dueling then?”
“Lestrange?” Sirius said, as if it were obvious. And to Malfoy and Zabini, who were clustering them, it must have been.
“It’s bold of you to challenge a sixth year,” Zabini said, stressing the Gryffindor attribute in a way that was undoubtedly an insult. “You’re not worried?”
“With Harry backing me?” Sirius laughed and once again put his arm on Harry’s shoulders. “Not even a little bit. I think Harry and I could out-duel any Lestrange, any day.”
Sirius was quite possibly Harry’s favorite person in the world, truly. Since the day they met, when Harry discovered the truth of Sirius’s past and Sirius gave Harry an offer for everything he had ever wanted, Sirius was certainly in the top three (if not the very top) for people that Harry cared the most for.
But Sirius was an idiot.
If the veil had killed them instead of ‘just’ sending Harry back in time and killing the Sirius Black of Harry’s time and bringing him back as an eleven year-old…
Well, Harry didn’t think they were the stellar dueling-duo that Sirius boasted them as.
Harry didn’t understand why anyone was dueling anyone, not that he really objected to it, and it ended up being Malfoy who explained it to him while Sirius and Zabini watched the duel happening and shared whispered comments that Harry only heard half of.
“Anyone with any issues with a housemate during the year can submit their name and then they duel on the first day of each new term,” Malfoy told Harry in a rush after Harry questioned what was happening. Harry was rather bemused by Malfoy’s enthusiasm to explain it to him until he realized that all of his history with Malfoy was gone…
All Malfoy knew of Harry was that they had met once in Diagon Alley and that Harry arrived midway through the sorting with a Black before sorting Slytherin. There had been no rejected offer of friendship on the train, no insult thrown at Ron, no slur sent to Hermione. Malfoy wasn’t in the Inquisitorial Squad, he didn’t dress up as a dementor to taunt Harry.
Malfoy was just an eleven year-old kid, one who Harry forgot but had wanted to be Harry’s friend in what Harry with hindsight could see was a bit of desperation.
Harry made an honest effort to not curse Malfoy on the spot for the way he had looked truly thirsty for Umbridge to crucio Harry as he nodded along to the explanation.
“Er… thanks,” Harry told him, the best he could do. It made him feel sick, but Harry couldn’t only try and branch out with people who didn’t once smile when Harry was about to be cursed.
Malfoy looked so childishly gleeful about Harry’s less than enthusiastic thanks that he took it upon himself to run commentary on what ended up being a rather short duel. Harry, who probably got an O on his defense OWLS, thought Malfoy was making up most of what the silently slung spells were, but it was at least amusing.
At the end of the duel, when Lestrange had Bulstrode’s wand, Maugans swished his wand and dispelled the shimmering barrier protecting the students from stray spells.
“Lestrange,” he said, leaning against the grey bricked mantle and looking rather bored by it all. “Black and Lestrange.”
Sirius, in contrast to Maugans’s boredom, jumped excitedly and smacked Harry in the chest lightly.
“Come on, Pup!” he laughed, lighting up in a way that was sickeningly familiar. “Let’s do it!”
Harry started to drag his feet and didn’t like the position that he was in suddenly…
Sirius, so lit up for a chance to fight. A Lestrange, glaring at him with dark eyes and a wand in his hand…
Less than a day before, Harry had been curled on his side, wishing more than anything that Sirius were there. Why did Sirius have to immediately put himself in the same spot they had been in just a month ago?
It made Harry’s stomach roll with nerves when Sirius bounced up to the center of the room and cheerfully introduced himself again.
“Sirius James Black!” Sirius said, sweeping his arm out and bending at the waist in a bow. Harry stood a few steps behind him, happy enough to let Sirius be the center of attention.
It might be brilliant going to classes with Sirius… if nothing else, Sirius could take a spotlight with no effort.
“Only one will die here tonight!” rang in Harry’s ears, causing both a jolt to go through him - Scabbers was in the Gryffindor dorm… - and a fond affection to soften his worry.
Harry didn’t need to worry, it had done nothing but caused a lot of pointless sweat. Even in the body of an eleven year-old, Sirius was a grown and accomplished wizard who seemed to mostly toy with Lestrange while setting himself up to look like a complete magical prodigy to the other students.
Sirius was fast, creative; it made Harry feel adrenaline pumping through him just to watch. Sirius also ran his mouth so much that had many students stifling laughter for the sake of solemnity.
“You duel like my mum,” Sirius taunted Lestrange, twirling his wand and causing snow to begin falling on him in thick chunks which sizzled through Lestrange’s clothes. Lestrange no sooner sent a thick yellow spell to Sirius before Sirius turned it into a flock of fluffy yellow chicks which flew at Lestrange with sharp beaks and adorable chirps.
“He’s a pureblood, isn’t he?” Malfoy whispered to Harry.
Even at eleven, with his hair waving wildly in the wind he seemed to create for himself and the manic light in his eyes… even with muggle jeans and a black and white checkered shirt to match the trainers he bought… Sirius couldn’t pull off anything except a pureblooded appearance. It was the regal features, the confidence. There was something magnetic about Sirius, no matter his age. He was charismatic, brilliant, and powerful…
Sirius was the only thing worth giving any attention to in the room.
“Half-blood,” Harry told Malfoy firmly. Harry had no idea who Mary Macdonald was, but it didn’t ring any familiar bells in Harry’s memory. He also decided that if Sirius liked her enough to pretend to be her son, then she probably hadn’t been a pureblood or Slytherin.
“Really?” Malfoy sounded surprised. “He looks a lot like his father.”
“Eerie, isn’t it?” Harry quipped, sighing again at Malfoy’s immediate bigotry.
“I like him,” Zabini declared, grinning sharply when Sirius did something that made the candles in the chandelier melt down and trap Lestrange in a waxy cage. The cage only held him for a moment before Sirius silently tore it down and began a new attack.
“You two grew up together?” Zabini asked Harry without looking away from Sirius.
“It feels like I’ve known him for years,” Harry said, unsure how he was meant to answer that. Yes probably would have worked, but would that get back to Dumbledore? Would Dumbledore wonder how Harry - who Dumbledore knew was isolated and trapped in Little Whining - met the unknown Black heir?
Dumbledore hadn’t done any favors for Harry or Sirius in the last year, longer than that really, and Harry didn’t want him taking any quick interest in Harry’s life.
Sirius finished the duel with another neat trick of charming weather in the common room and twisting it to a weapon. There was a rainbow that poured from the tip of his wand and it wrapped itself around Lestrange’s legs, knocking him backward then pulling him in the air upside down. When Sirius summoned Lestrange's wand, Harry couldn’t help but cheer.
Nobody else did, at first. Then the other first years saw Harry Potter cheering so they cheered and a few of the older students were quick to cotton on. Beneath the cheers, shared in whispers and more looks than words, was shock.
Harry could feel it, he could sense what Sirius had just done, and he couldn’t begin to fathom how it would help or hurt them with all the things Harry wanted to accomplish…
But Sirius outed himself immediately as someone charismatic, charming, powerful, and unwilling to tolerate anyone so much as shouldering Harry Potter when he was around.