From Hero to Hatred
“Theo, your hair is fine, do not turn into Draco on me.”
Harry laughed as the other boy shoved him into a tree. “Not all of us enjoy having a literal bowtruckle nest on the top of our head, Hadrian.”
“Is it worth it for the ingredients we got?”
Theo looked back towards the clearing of the Forbidden Forest they had just left. “Ask me after we see if the focus ritual works.”
“We’ll have to make sure we look into any addictive properties. Knowing you and Hermione, I feel like we’ll be doing it a lot.”
“We’re not that bad. But I could use some extra galleons, and if we sell the ritual information to some of the fifth years, we could make quite a bit.”
Harry groaned as they climbed the hill towards the castle. “Honestly at this point we just need a collective Herald fund for all the things we can sell.”
“You’d just throw in extra galleons when no one was looking.”
“Shut up.”
Theo laughed as Harry turned red. “C’mon, lunch should still be up, and there’s no way whatever Pomfrey gave you in the hospital wing was sustaining enough for gallivanting in the Forest.”
Harry rolled his eyes, following Theo into the Great Hall. They waved at their friends scattered among the other tables, but Theo was pulling Harry towards where Neville was dozing over an open book at the Gryffindor table. Harry flicked the back of both the twins’ heads before they took a seat on either side of the sleeping second year.
“Nev, are you okay?”
The Gryffindor jolted up, breathing heavily, blinking at the two Slytherins. “Yeah, sorry. Just haven’t been sleeping well.”
Harry leaned forward, Theo biting at a fingernail on Neville’s other side. “Are you sure there isn’t something I can help you with? I can reach out to your grandmother, maybe even through my aunt-”
“No!” Neville shook his head so hard he almost toppled over. “Don’t bo- don’t bother my gran. I just… I need to figure out how to balance everything. It’s fine. I’m working on it.”
“Okay. If you’re sure. You mind if we eat with you?”
The boy shook his head again, and gave the two a slight grin as they dug into their lunch.
When Neville got up, only about ten minutes later, to apparently disappear into the library, Harry watched him go with a frown. “He didn’t eat very much.”
Theo nodded, looking the same way. “Which is worrying when you’re the one making that comment.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ve been doing better. But I see what you mean. He’s… he’s somehow taken steps backward. He’s even more nervous than he was at the beginning of last year.”
“Did something happen over the summer?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” Harry pulled out a piece of parchment from his bag and a ballpoint pen and started to scribble out a letter for one Molly Weasley.
Theo had leaned over, reading over Harry’s shoulder. “Ron’s mom? Do you think she’d know?”
“With all the kids out of the house, she’s started spending a lot of time catching up with old friends. Since Lady Longbottom, at least in name, is more of a Light-leaning family, she’s on the list of people in the Weasley’s social circle.” Harry trailed off, tapping his chin with the pen. “Although, she was a Rosier by birth. Maybe Aunt Narcissa knows something.”
Theo jolted so suddenly he spilled his tea. “What? She was a Rosier? Augusta Longbottom?”
“Oh, yeah.” Harry laughed as he cast a quick drying charm. “Best kept secret on both sides of the war, if I’m honest. I only knew because I had Gerard look into the family when I found out Neville and I were godbrothers. Apparently, she still got along quite well with her family, but they agreed to cut ties amicably when she fell in love with Patrick Longbottom.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know that.”
Harry shrugged. “Apparently, Longbottoms have a habit of falling in love with people from Darker families. Patrick’s mother was actually a Black.”
Theo shook his head. “I never would have guessed.”
“We only hear about the families that are torn apart by their choices. Andromeda and Sirius Black, just as an example from my own family. The ones that don’t want to completely cut off their family? They’re smart enough to keep it secret. And the other families that may know… Well, they’re not likely to risk pissing off other influential families at the risk of their own.”
“Maybe there’s hope for us after all, then.” Theo looked over towards the Slytherin table, where Pansy was surrounded by Ginny and the other first year snakes, as usual.
Harry scooted down to nudge his shoulder against Theo’s. “Are you worried? Do I need to keep an eye on you, too?”
The hesitation before Theo shook his head didn’t leave Harry with the highest of confidence.
The months following the first (human) attack were a strange mix of fear and excitement. There was still an undercurrent of terror, especially when it was discovered that the paint used outside the girl’s bathroom was enchanted to not be removed, but was instead slowly fading away as weeks went by.
(Hermione had sidled up to Dean one day, watching him sketch in a journal, and gave him a curious glance. “Do you think magical graffiti is a thing?”
He froze, and then looked up with a grin. “If it’s not now, it will be.” He stood and chased down Harry to take him up on his promise to buy him an art book.)
Classes were a welcome distraction to them all. While Hermione was still yards ahead on the written work, she took the fact that the others scored higher in practical work with a reluctant grace.
Draco was starting to inch ahead in Transfiguration, grinning when McGonagall even offered Slytherin points through gritted teeth for his beautifully patterned tea set he made from a mouse. Pansy mainly enjoyed the aspects of Transfiguration that allowed her to alter her robes, and had even stayed back to engage the professor with questions about handsewn alterations versus magical.
Draco, Harry, and Daphne Greengrass were neck in neck in potions work, cycling through who had the best potion each week. The first time it was Draco, the grin on his face was pure joy, shared with an equally amused Harry. It was the first time Harry could remember Draco looking like a kid proud of something he’d actually done, and not just his name. Daphne didn’t seem as happy when it wasn’t her potion on top, but she would still ask Harry for brewing advice with a roll of her eyes.
Harry having extra lessons (no one who paid attention was convinced that he had weekly detentions with Snape) definitely seemed to help.
Pansy also, however, seemed to take a liking to charms. She and Lavender Brown were always the top in their respective class, mastering the spells easily. Harry and Ron, however, usually went off on a tangent about other uses for the spells, rather than the one Flitwick described as he taught. One day, after a revision lesson about the levitation spell, had Hermione reluctantly dragged into a conversation about lifting multiple items at once, of various sizes and weights, only to release them like a trap when an enemy was underneath.
(Flitwick listened to this, slightly concerned, as this led to a debate with his Ravenclaws on the reliability of this idea, how it would simply be easier to use a ward to contain the objects until needed, or how much planning one would need in advance to do this, and ultimately ended in a discussion on magical strength needed, and how much one could logically hold up with the spell.)
Defense, however, was a let down for all.
Not even Theo bothered taking notes as Lockhart reenacted scenes from his various books.
Hermione only scribbled down key facts mentioned to cross reference them with the books themselves for their ongoing pursuit to catch the professor in a lie.
The class essentially became self taught, as the snakes and the eagles bent over books from the library and family homes, using the syllabus Lockhart had abandoned on the first day as a rough guide, even if spells like the disarming charm were technically more advanced than they should be.
Padma scoffed under her breath the day they read on it. “I mean, sure. The charm is great, but if you don’t do it well enough, they can just… pick up their wand again. There has to be a better way to end the duel before they even have a chance. Or teach us protego.”
“Apparently, if you put enough power behind expelliarmus, you can actually throw someone back.” Hermione eyed the professor as Lockhart kept talking, waving his wand like a lunatic. “And protego is a fourth or fifth year spell, at least. Expelliarmus is eons easier.”
“...I'm still going to try it. But it would be even easier to find a more permanent way to end the duel,” Harry agreed.
Ron shifted, barely looking up from a copy of Quidditch Weekly. “No maiming, Harry.”
Harry just rolled his eyes.
“I found a jinx that might help, in that regard. I was unsure what it could be used for other than diplomacy, as it was in a prank book I borrowed from George. But thinking about it now, it definitely might do what you’re thinking.” Anthony pulled said book from his bag, flipping to a page. “There’s variations, based on what you want to do, what language. But the basic spell just leaves the target unable to speak any other language than whichever one you cast. The book suggests Mermish, just because it maintains no similarities to any of the Latin-based languages, and you wouldn’t be able to cast finite.”
Everyone peered over shoulders and around arms to scan the book, not even caring if Lockhart saw them all huddled.
“So unless you can cast silently, or have a friend who can cast finite before they’re also taken out…”
Ron grinned. “Man, we need to write a book on how prank spells can be used for combat. We’d make thousands.”
“Talk to your brothers.” Harry hesitated, thinking. “And Ginny, honestly. You’d have enough for a full novel by the end of the term.”
“Hiya, Harry, Luna.” Hannah flounced in the Nook, setting her bag across the table from them. Movement between their open books made her smile. “Oh, and hi, Atticus. How was Hagrid’s?”
Luna didn’t even look up, simply flipping another page of the full index of Newt Scamander’s anthology of magical creatures.
Harry met Hannah’s gaze with a frown, reaching an idle hand to throw a few woodlice from a bag to the table for the bowtruckle. “His chickens keep disappearing, or dying. He can’t tell why, so we’re trying to see if there might be something in the forest that’s getting to them. On the bright side, he made a fantastic roast for lunch. But he’s worried.”
“Did you ask the centaurs?”
Harry nodded absently as he turned back to his own book. “I asked Ronan, he said they’re keeping to themselves. With no proof that this has anything to do with the Forest, they’re focusing on tending to the foals that were born last spring, and there’s something going on with the Acromantula colony they’re trying to keep an eye on.”
“Oh no, them too? Poor Hagrid. He does have a soft spot for the colony, doesn’t he.”
Harry nodded again. “He’s freaking out. Tries not to show it, but it’s not a good year for him. And he gets really dodgy when we mention the Chamber of Secrets.”
Hannah pulled the book away from Luna, who blinked up at her, zoning back into the room. “Don’t lose yourself in the books, you two. I’m sure Hagrid appreciates you helping him figure it out, but self-care is important.”
Luna gave her a soft smile, but immediately stole the book from in front of Harry.
Harry just sighed. “We will. Tweak’s been on my case lately, so I’m taking care of myself by no choice of my own. It’s just…” He trailed off, eyes locked on the book in Hannah’s hand. “We just have this weird feeling, you know? Like… we’ve read something about this, and we just can’t place it.”
“Okay.” She pushed the book back across the table, laughing slightly to herself when Harry immediately started to scan the page. “Just… Don’t make me send Ron up here to drag you away from the books. I don’t think any of us want to see that.”
Harry grinned sheepishly. “No worries there, Abbott. We’re running out of books, anyways.”
She giggled as she grabbed her bag and went to search for Pansy and her hoard of first years.
“Hadrian, look!” Anthony’s voice cut through the din of the crowd when the Slytherins made their way up to dinner one night.
Harry cut through the milling students to the notice board placed outside the Great Hall.
“Dueling Club? No way, do you think it’s Flitwick running it?” Harry scanned the paper.
Hermione was peering over his shoulder. “He was a champion, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Do you think they’ll teach combat spells?” Justin pulled away from the mass, craning over Harry’s other shoulder. “Or just how to use the spells we already know in a fight?”
Ron snatched the paper from between Justin and Anthony. “Well, dueling is pretty different from combat. Dueling has a set of rules, healers on hand, spells you can and can’t use. So even if it is just dueling and not, like, how to win a fight, it’ll still be worth going. At the very least, they’re separating the years, so maybe we can ask for more challenging spells.”
Harry was distracted by Neville, who was heading into the Great Hall with a pale face. “Hey, Nev! Did you hear? Dueling Club. You excited?”
“Oh. Hadrian. Uh, I guess? I’m not too-I’m not sure I’ll do well. My wand.” He shifted awkwardly under Harry’s arm.
“You mean your dad’s wand? Nev, I really wish you’d let me treat you to a trip to Ollivander’s. Even just to ask him about compatibility.”
“It’s okay, Hadrian. It’s-it’s fine.”
“Well, you know if you ever want to practice, there’s usually someone in the Nook, or you’re always welcome in the snake pit.”
“I-I don’t know if that’s-if that’s a good idea.”
“I do.” Harry gave him a wide grin. “You’re my godbrother, Neville. If anyone has an issue with that, they can take it up with me. And I guarantee it won’t end well for them.”
Neville turned red, but returned his grin with a shaky smile. “I’ll think about it.” He pulled away and headed towards an empty area of the Gryffindor table.
Harry watched him for a moment with a frown, before Hannah appeared at his side to pull him towards the Ravenclaw table. “Hadrian, do you mind if we sit with the upper years? Pansy apparently wants to talk about traditional Chinese house charms with Cho Chang, and Hermione’s already taking notes.”
Harry rolled his eyes as he followed. “Sure. I’ve been meaning to talk to Penelope Clearwater anyways. She’s apparently on the fast track to intern with the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”
“Oh, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Farley found her waiting for a certain redhead after hours the other night?”
“Miss Abbott!” Harry gasped, making Hannah light up with her bright laughter. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were gossiping with Parkinson! What would your adoring public think?”
Hannah tossed her hair over her shoulder, smile wider than Lockhart’s best. “Tell whoever you’d like, they’ll never believe you.”
The number of bruises on Anthony’s back was a record as the Heralds all ran into him in the doorway of the Great Hall.
“Merlin, Goldstein, you can’t just stop midstep—” Ron trailed off when he looked over Anthony’s shoulder into the room.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Anthony had never looked more furious. “There’s no way this ends well.”
Everyone peered around the Ravenclaw, and the group groaned as one.
“If you all would continue into the room rather than blocking the entryway?” Snape’s drawl made them all turn back to see him standing behind them, eyebrow raised.
“Thank Morgana, are you supervising this?” Harry leaned into Hermione’s side. “Maybe we’ll actually learn something.”
“While I appreciate the vote of confidence in my ability to curb whatever idiocies may occur tonight, do remember you are referring to a staff member, Mr. Potter.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but pulled his friends to one side to allow the Potions professor past. They trailed behind him, hovering to one side of the transfigured stage as he climbed atop, next to a grinning Lockhart in blinding blue robes.
“Welcome, welcome! Gather round, everyone! Now that my assistant is here, we can begin.”
Ron almost bit off a finger trying to stifle his laughter at the look on Snape’s face.
Susan had pulled out a muggle notebook, but sighed when the professors faced each other, only to cast a simple disarming charm. The only thing that gave her hope was how far Lockhart flew when Snape’s spell landed first.
Hannah patted her shoulder. “Not everyone is as advanced as we are, Sue. You know Marcus has us ahead of the normal second year material.”
“Hadrian, how did Lockhart manage to find his wand? I thought it was… lost after our first class.” Pansy eyed Lavender Brown as the Gryffindor handed the professor his lost wand.
Harry’s grin was biting. “It was indeed. He apparently was using a backup wand for weeks before the Squid flung the wand out of the lake. Smart creature, the Squid. Smacked poor Professor Lockhart right in the face as he was trying to explain to Hagrid how to keep kelpies out of his well.”
“We’re dividing you all into pairs. Try for some semblance of inter-house cooperation,” Snape called over the crowd.
The Heralds didn’t bother to split apart, or to practice, instead debating the use of the spell as they watched Terry Boot’s shoulder start bleeding as Finnegan’s spell went haywire.
“Do you think yourselves above learning a new spell?” Snape appeared behind Ron, his shadow falling over the group.
“We’ve already learned this spell, sir. We were actually discussing the disadvantages of using it in the middle of combat.”
“Indeed?” Snape’s hand landed on Justin’s shoulder, and the Hufflepuff’s eyes widened. “Perhaps a demonstration?” He looked up towards where Lockhart was trying to get Millie away from Ernie Macmillan.
“Ah, uh, excellent idea, Severus.”
“Mr. Malfoy. Join Mr. Finch-Fletchley on the stage.”
Draco climbed to the stage from his spot next to Tracey, sneering at Lockhart’s grin.
Justin sighed when Snape gently pushed him to the stage, but pulled his wand out and stood in a ready stance across from Malfoy.
“Now, on the count of three, you’ll cast the disarming charm. Once we see that, perhaps we’ll move on to a simple blocking charm. Ready?”
Both boys nodded.
“One.”
Harry watched Draco with a growing sense of dread.
“Two.”
Draco’s sneer grew, and he eyed Justin with a smug look as his wand flicked and he muttered under his breath.
A snake appeared from the tip of his wand, fangs exposed, hissing frantically.
Hermione sighed. “That spell isn't allowed.”
Ron groaned. “It’s also a fourth year spell. I forgot Malfoy’s so good at summoning.”
“I thought it was a conjuration spell? Doesn’t McGonagall teach it?”
“I think it depends on the variation of the spell you use. He just cast the basic spell, so I think it’s conjured. You have to add another word to the spell for a summoned creature.”
“Do conjured animals act differently than normal ones?”
“Is there a difference between a conjured animal and a transfigured one?”
Harry tuned out the others, eyes caught on a now-trembling Justin.
Hannah was the only one who noticed, stepping forward to murmur in Harry’s ear. “What’s wrong?”
“Draco must have overheard, the other day, when Justin was talking about how he got bit by a snake as a kid, and has been scared of them ever since.”
She paled as the snake inched forward, eyes locked on the boy. “Oh, he wouldn’t.”
Her worry caught the attention of Hermione just in time for her to see Harry step forward. Realizing the situation, she instantly reached out to catch his arm.
“Harry, you can’t. Surely they’ll banish the snake before anything happens, Snape wouldn’t let anyone get hurt.”
Harry shifted, not looking away from the scene. “That’s a venomous snake, Hermione.”
“And I’m sure Snape has an antivenom potion, or that Madam Pomfrey can heal anything that happens.”
“It’ll still hurt.”
“And so will Cormac kicking your ass when he uses this as fuel to claim that you’re the Heir of Slytherin,” Ron grabbed his other arm lightly, trying to tug him back. “Justin can handle a snake bite, if it even gets that far.”
“He shouldn’t have to. Draco is under my family name, in my house, and I’ve let him play his games long enough.” Harry pulled forward, out of the reaching grasp of his friends, ignoring even Susan and Hannah’s calls to come back.
Draco, who was grinning as he watched Justin shake in a muted fear as the snake moved closer, looked over towards the other Heralds with a superior expression that wouldn’t be out of place on the face of his father.
Said expression fell as he saw Harry moving towards the stage, and the glares aimed his way by all of the others.
He knew the crowd wouldn’t react well when the hisses fell from his mouth.
He knew they would assume the worst.
He still felt the pang of absolute panic when he saw both of the professor’s faces fall, when the crowd went quiet, when Ernie Macmillan yelled that the heir of Slytherin had revealed himself.
He ignored the stares when Snape dismissed the session, instead grabbing the sleeve of a pale, now-worried Draco. “Nook. Now.” The hiss of his command was even more terrifying to Draco than the Parseltongue he had just heard.
Harry pushed Draco into the room, and he instantly felt the glares of a dozen angry Heralds.
Even Marcus, Terry, and the twins were there, having heard about the conflict by Ginny, who had been just down the hall in an all-house common room when the students left the Great Hall in droves, whispering about Harry.
Ignoring Draco’s immediate fear, Harry cleared his throat. “So, obviously, if you’re in this room, you already knew that I was a Parselmouth, because otherwise I would never have gained access to the Nook. But obviously things are now a bit more complicated.”
Pansy turned away from Draco, trying to hide the conflicted pity on her face as she fidgeted with her hair. “For anyone from more traditional families, this will either make them wary of Hadrian, or see him as even more of a problem. Anyone from the light will just be scared.”
Justin crossed his arms from his place on the couch. “Sure, it’ll make people more likely to lash out. But there’s not much else we can do than what we’ve already been doing, which is to just defend him.”
“You don’t have to defend me. Don’t make more problems for yourselves.”
Ron stepped forward. “We wouldn’t have to if Malfoy here hadn’t been a prick.”
Draco flushed. “I was doing what I was told, which was to win. I won’t apologize for using any advantage available.”
“At the cost of a friend?” Ron stepped closer again, and everyone in the room remembered that besides Blaise Zabini, Ron was easily the tallest in their year as he towered over the blond.
He sneered. “Just because Hadrian amuses himself with a comedy of insignificant characters doesn’t mean they’re my friends. Don’t conflate my acceptance of my Heir’s acquaintances with me actually willing to socialize with them.”
“No worries there, Malfoy,” Justin scoffed. “Point taken. I don’t think any of us are going to be worried about socializing with you from here on out.”
Before Draco could say anything else, Theo stepped forward. “C’mon, mate. It’s not worth starting anything. Let’s go back to the dorms, yeah? I need help with Transfiguration, and I left my notes in the lounge.”
He pulled Draco out of the room, shooting apologetic looks towards the others as he did.
Pansy bussed Harry’s cheek as she followed them.
Hannah looked towards Harry as the door closed behind the other Slytherins. “What are you going to do, Hadrian?”
The room was silent as they all waited, for the footsteps to fade away, for Harry to look away from where his cousin had walked away. For instructions.
Harry sighed, finally looking away to stare up at the ceiling, eyes wet. “He’s making his own choices. I’m not writing him off completely, but I’m changing the password for the Nook. I won’t tell you how to treat him. Just don’t cause more trouble than we need. I have a feeling the next few weeks won’t be kind to any of us.”
The term went on.
Harry and Luna couldn’t quite figure out what it was about dead roosters and antsy spiders that made their memories itch.
Malfoy had almost completely pulled away from the Heralds, trading barbs with Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass while ignoring pointed glances from the entire group of Harry’s friends.
McLaggen had, as Ron predicted, used Harry’s Parseltongue as a reason to get many Gryffindors and a few from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw to sneer and hiss at Harry as he passed.
His fellow Slytherins, however, pulled Harry behind themselves and hissed back.
His friends, too. Harry couldn’t help but laugh when he heard that Justin and Susan had gotten kicked out of the library for getting into a heated argument with Ernie Macmillian about Harry’s innocence during a Hufflepuff study session.
The whispers seemed to die down, at least, after a few weeks of Marcus and Terry not letting Harry out of their sight between classes and meals.
(At least, when Harry or a Herald was around. Everyone learned that fact quickly when it was Hannah, of all people, that twisted around with a particularly nasty rash jinx at an older housemate for calling Harry an attention seeking brat who should be expelled and sent back to the muggles to rot. Cedric did nothing but push her away and take points away from the older boy. After that story made its rounds, no one was stupid enough to say anything in earshot of one of Harry’s. Not even Pansy heard much gossip about people thinking ill of Harry, as they tended to keep it to themselves and friends they knew shared the sentiment.)
What was truly surprising, even with rule one stamped into their brains, was the line the older students were walking behind closed doors.
It was a coin flip to whether they would sneer and hiss at Harry in the common room (claiming he wasn’t worth being Heir, that he had tricked the hat into getting into Slytherin, that he was a trumped up nobody who didn’t even know how to yield the power he was born with) or watch him with a reverence that he prickled under his skin.
It didn’t seem to help that more often than not, if Harry was in the common room, so was Susan Bones, niece of the head of the DMLE.
Once they left the bricks of the House, however, not even Blaise would do more than make a few pointed comments that only a Slytherin or a particularly astute Ravenclaw would pick up.
The back and forth was draining.
By the time November rolled around, Hermione in particular was ready to snap.
Even with her understanding of politics, the first time they were escorted through the school by an upper year, Harry had to talk her down.
They had barely left Slytherin dorms one Saturday, right after Dumbledore had announced an increase in castle security, when they were stopped in the corridor.
“Oi!” Harry and Hermione whipped around to see Silas Lee, the sixth year Slytherin prefect, tapping his foot at the end of the hall. “You two! What do you think you’re doing?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “We still have to study, Lee, and we need to go to the library. I wasn’t aware that was no longer allowed.”
The prefect shifted, watching them both. “C’mon, then.”
They shared a glance. “We know the way, you don’t have to walk us.”
“Shut up and let’s go.” Silas walked a few steps and then turned. “I needed to go to the Central Hall anyway.”
Hermione started to worry at her lip, but Harry shrugged and pulled her along. “Cheers, mate.”
It wasn’t until they were safely in the library that she turned to Harry. “What do you think that was about? He’d never even looked at me before. Pansy said he was firmly in the won’t bully but won’t defend camp when it came to first gens. He’s not the only one, either, it’s happened a few times this week. Levi Avery even waited for me to ask Professor McGonagall a question the other day after the sixth year class ended.”
Harry gave her a grin. “You may be a first gen, Mione, but you’re still a Slytherin. I don’t think any of the upper years are going to look the other way to see you hurt, whether through the Chamber or some other idiotic student. Remember when Tennant hexed that fifth year Ravenclaw for saying you were an uppity bint who only knew magic because you could regurgitate our textbooks?”
“I do remember, thank you for the reminder.” She glared. “Am I supposed to forgive them for saying horrid things about me in the common room because they defend me in public?”
“I’m not saying that at all, though you did a decent enough job defending them to Ron the other week. I’m just explaining their thought process, as flawed as it may be. It’s at least a step in the right direction. Revolution doesn’t happen in a day. Maybe this is how they’ll treat you, but by the time we graduate, maybe a first year first gen won’t have to watch their back in the common room.”
She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I can’t defend them to Ron and then turn around and not follow my own advice.” She looked up. “Nothing is black and white. And this is just the beginning of how complicated things can get when it comes to war and politics.”
He leaned across the table as she began opening books and notepads. “Just because you understand the logic doesn’t mean it’s magically easy to accept. But if you know that you need to work at it, that’s good for both you and them.”
She flicked his nose, laughing at the screwed up expression as he watched her hand. “Do your work.”
“Mr. Potter, a word, if you’d please.”
McGonagall’s call made him stop his near blind stumble to his dorms, mud still dripping from his fall during practice. He waved off Millie, who had walked back from the field with him.
(She may not like flying, but Millicent was almost on Ron’s level of analyzing tactics in Quidditch, and she was slowly converting him to follow the Caerphilly Catapults, if only because of their history of daredevil players.)
“Of course, Professor.” He weaved back through the crowd to stand in front of the Head of Gryffindor, near the wall of the entrance to Central Hall. “Will this take long? No disrespect, I’m just not quite in a state to be much company.”
The professor shifted awkwardly in front of him, eyes flickering to the dozens of students milling around them. “There’s been another incident, and the headmaster would like to discuss it with you.”
“Ma’am, I’ve been at practice for the past few hours, and at least twenty people can attest to that. Why is my presence necessary for any investigation?”
She eyed him for a moment. “The student in question was Mr. Finch-Fletchley.”
She held out a book titled Veela, Dwarves, and Other Beings.
The same one Justin had been reading just that morning at breakfast.
Harry froze, and the few people around him heard, who knew him, knew his friends, instinctively took a few steps back, but kept watching him.
Watching him as his shoulders fell, spine straightened, and he seemed to grow a few inches.
Watching him as his lungs began to heave.
Watching him as his jaw set.
Watching him as he threw a fist at the wall beside him, the sound echoing even through the din of the busy hall.
Watching him as the sudden silence didn’t even phase him, eyes of everyone on him.
Watching him as he took another breath.
Watching him as he didn’t even blink at the blood dripping down his knuckles.
Watching him as he nodded to the Deputy Headmistress.
“Let’s go, then.” His voice was hollow.
She nodded as well, and turned to lead him towards Dumbledore’s office.
They had barely made it a handful of steps when a shadow fell over them.
“I do hope, Minerva, that you weren’t about to take one of my students to a meeting with the Headmaster without even informing me.”
McGonagall sighed, not even turning to face him. “Of course not, Severus. I trust your students to inform you of the need for your presence immediately, and it has not let me down yet.”
Snape sneered. “The need for students to inform me of my duty is just one of the things wrong with the past few years.” He ignored her snicker, which stopped as soon as she looked down at Harry, who was staring blankly ahead. Snape stopped her with a soft touch of the arm.
Harry stopped, not looking at either of the adults.
“Mr. Potter, your hand, if you would.” Snape held out his own, wand in the other.
Harry blinked, before raising his hand in front of his own face, and then nodded when he saw the blood.
“Sorry, sir. Didn’t realize.”
He lifted his hand further, which Snape gently held by the wrist as he waved his wand over.
“Tergeo.”
The blood lifted off of the skin, disappearing into the air, leaving only the scrapes from the stone wall. The following episkey had the knuckles knit back together, leaving only the slightest of pink shining on Harry’s dark skin.
“Appreciated, sir.” Harry’s voice was still low, unfeeling.
Snape took a breath, eyes flickering to a shocked McGonagall, before he placed a hesitant hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Hadrian, you have my word that after the headmaster speaks with you, I will escort you to visit Mr. Finch-Fletchley myself.”
Harry nodded again. “Thank you, sir.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I simply ask that you ignore any undue emotion I may express upon visiting.”
“I would not think it undue, Mr. Potter. Shall we? Or do you need a moment to compose yourself?”
Harry pulled back slightly, letting Snape’s hand fall. A deep breath, and he nodded. “Let’s see what Albus wants now, shall we?”
The three continued up the stairs, none of them realizing the whispers that followed, all surrounding the fact that there was no way that Hadrian Potter could really be the heir, not with one of his laying up in the Hospital Wing, not with the way he acted at finding out.
Not even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was that good of an actor.