And then, with a smile that was hard to define
If Harry hadn't already been firmly convinced that James Potter was an utterly ridiculous man, the nonsense on the morning of September the first would have done it. Harry knew perfectly well that the wizarding platform of King's Cross Station had its own dedicated bank of Floo hearths, but oh no, James had to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron instead (which was absolutely packed), and then march them out onto Charing Cross Road, when admittedly they were wearing Muggle-style clothes, and both Harry's and Jules' trunks were shrunken down, but the birdcages with the snowy owl and Taiga falcon were a lot more conspicuous than Harry thought James realised. He supposed James was hardly going to report or investigate himself for minor infringement of the Statute, and as Chief Auror he could probably get it swept under the carpet if anyone said anything; but equally, for the Chief Auror, it wasn't a good look, in Harry's opinion.
And then there was that awkward moment at Leicester Square Underground station when James marched blithely through the barrier with Jules' cardboard ticket (even though it had CHILD printed on it in large grey letters on the pink cardboard), and the barrier in turn flashed 'Enter, Child', and one of the station staff intervened. Harry could have sworn James was actually reaching for his wand holster when he piped up with his "I'm so sorry, we don't go to London very often, I think my dad and my brother have each other's tickets," and even after that, Jules had to be shushed from enthusing loudly about how fascinating the escalators were. At least the Piccadilly line was direct, so they didn't have to change anywhere. Navigating the crowds between the Underground platform and the train station hall was quite bad enough. And then the thrilling, fascinating, scintillating experience of running through a seemingly solid brick wall, and then Ethan Thorne, and the carefully orchestrated press jamboree, and just no. Harry was done. Nobody but Longbottom even noticed him slipping away from the media circus, and a quick nod of acknowledgement was quite sufficient there. The rule of 'look as if you know what you're doing, and you're much less likely to be challenged' evidently applied here, too. Harry grabbed the first empty compartment he found, put up the heaviest wards he could manage from the book of mostly illegal spells Theo had sent him, and finally let himself breathe.
Theo Nott, meanwhile, felt things were going quite according to plan. Yes, he'd had to start off in a compartment with Malfoy and those dreadful hangers-on of his, as was expected, but Malfoy had been only too eager to explore the train, 'tips on getting into Slytherin' indeed, and the eagerness to meet Jules Potter was ridiculous. He'd kept him a little longer, past the introductions, just to make a point. Showing willing, of course, even though he wasn't particularly, but not only that. The reverse psychology of the 'company doesn't suit you' and 'don't you trust my judgement' was standard fare, and from then it was only a matter of waiting for Malfoy to say something indiscreet, and jumping in on the opportunity. A gibe about getting the Boy-Who-Lived's autograph, and he had him.
"Father said I should try and make friends with him. Someone who defeated the Dark Lord is most likely a very powerful wizard…" And there he was. The guilty look, the glance at Hermione.
"I expect she won’t mind whatever you say," said Theo in a reassuring tone of voice. "The Granger family is rather unknown in higher society, but Hermione herself is our type if you know what I mean. You’ll see. I’ll vouch for her." A brief look of uncertainty, a cough, but he was pinned like a doxy under immobulus.
"Well, father thought he might be a potential Dark Lord himself, when he reaches his majority. That it might be why he survived the Dark Lord’s attack. Best to get on his good side now. Correct any misapprehensions he might have. Just in case of trouble, of course." Again the glance at Hermione, to see how she was taking this. Theo didn't need to look at her. This next bit was all on her, but he had confidence she wouldn't disappoint.
"What an interesting theory!" And there she went. Denigrating the Light bias of Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, talking about the inherent magical power of sacrifice, and then asking if Malfoy knew whether titles like Dark Lord and Dark Lady were formally granted or bestowed by majority consensus. And now Theo was allowed to grin like the Kneazle that got the cream, and Malfoy would take it as simple satisfaction that he had been right, he could slip in a childish 'told you so' to further the illusion. And off he went. Theo and Hermione would have the carriage to themselves for most of the journey, if Malfoy really intended to go up and down the train the way Theo thought he did, the peacock. Though, to be fair, he'd been socially marginalised far more than Theo himself had: the perils of having the notorious Bellatrix Lestrange as an aunt, and the almost equally notorious Sirius Black as a close kinsman. It wasn't unreasonable for him to want to make his name and face better known among his peers, and he wasn't self-aware enough to realise that, with his bratty demeanour, he would be more likely to alienate people than garner their respect. Especially with those lumps in tow. Still, it gave Theo an opening.
"I'll be back soon, with Harry," he said, and slipped away. Hermione was biting her lip slightly, but her chin jutted out firmly, and the nod she gave him was resolute. It wasn't as if he was going to the moon. Harry turned out to be within a carriage of where Theo had calculated he would be, based on the most expedient direction one would take to escape the inevitable press conference at its customary location. Eight compartments away rather than three; hardly the end of the world. Well-warded. He had made good use of the book Theo had given him, then. And he had a gift for Theo, a duplicated copy of a fairly rare and distinctly Dark book about Herbology. Theo was sure this wasn't the Darkest or rarest book in the Potter library, or even close. Harry was making a point - several points - and Theo appreciated them all. As well as the fact of the gift being chosen to appeal to his specific interests, and the revelation that Harry had learned a spell that, if Theo's memory served, was on the third-year curriculum, before even starting at Hogwarts. Yes, Theo felt he had chosen well, as far as cultivating allies went; he could afford to indulge this urge for friends, too, since at least they were advantageous people to have as friends. Harry was quite amenable to taking down his wards and following Theo to the original compartment, bringing his luggage with him. (More of a declaration than Theo thought Harry realised, though of course the fact of the luggage being shrunken meant it wasn't a practical inconvenience.)
"Mr Harry Potter, heir to the Noble House of Potter, I would like you to meet Miss Hermione Granger, of the minor family of Granger." Just the right stress on the 'minor', to make it seem like it was only a technicality, a mystery, one that it would be crass to ask about, though of course that wasn't necessary for Harry, who knew perfectly well what her background was. A rehearsal of sorts. "Hermione, meet Harry."
"A much-anticipated pleasure," Harry said, as she gathered her cat -with her left hand - and stood. He extended his own right hand; she took it in hers and they shared a handshake, before sitting down.
"No less on my side, I assure you," she said, and then they both looked to Theo, as if waiting for a grade on their performance of the etiquette they had learned, almost identical sparks of glee lurking in the brown and green eyes.
"Wonderful," he said, quite sincerely. "Would you mind doing the honours and putting up some wards, Harry? Some acquaintances of mine left their luggage here, but I shouldn't think they'd be back for a while."
"Not a problem," Harry replied, and got to it. Hermione was watching intently, and as soon as he was done she peppered him with questions, and in-between their shared interests in the technicalities of privacy enchantments and their shared disapproval of the laws that rendered so many interesting topics of study outright illegal, and others legal to cast, but not to buy or sell books about, and others only legal to own books on depending on one's own blood status, the conversation flowed readily. Book after book was pulled from the trunks, whether to provide evidence for a point in an argument, investigate a matter of speculation, or for the future perusal of someone other than its owner. Really, the only indication that Harry and Hermione had not been corresponding all summer was their continued use of 'Miss Granger' and 'Mr Potter,' well, that and the way previous discussions Theo had had with one of them sometimes needed repeating for the other's benefit. Theo was almost sorry when the angry face of Jules Potter appeared in the glass of the compartment door, even though it was a contingency he'd anticipated with glee.
"Harry!" Was that outrage, or an attempt to call his brother to heel? Or both? Oh, and Weasley was there, too. Joy.
"Yes, that's me." The noise Theo made attempting not to laugh drew Golden Boy's attention.
"Nott."
"Potter."
"Oh good, I don't have to introduce you," said Harry, blithe in a way that was very obviously fake. "Only Hermione. Hermione, this is my brother Jules - " interesting take on the rules of etiquette, prioritising the rule that men are introduced to women over the rule that a person of lesser social prominence is introduced to a person of greater social prominence, especially when he'd done things the other way round a moment ago. Or was it that he was implying he didn't find Jules' status as the Boy Who Lived interesting or valuable, compared to the concrete fact of heirship to a House? Or that the three of them were a group, and Jules was the outsider and intruder? "-and his friend Ron Weasley. Mr Jules Potter, Mr Ronald Weasley - Miss Hermione Granger."
"Yes, yes," Golden Boy said impatiently. "Now come on, Harry, we've got a compartment in the middle of the train."
"I'm fine here, thanks," Harry replied, still with the too-pleasant-to-be-real air.
Weasley exploded, nothing Theo hadn't heard before, his father was a Death Eater, he himself was deeply suspect, nobody should associate with him, etcetera. Theo rebutted every statement without losing an ounce of composure, and his friends were similarly bland and blank. Perhaps if he'd been more guarded in his correspondence, he might have been seriously worried that one or both of them would be frightened away from him, but he knew them better than that now.
"I really should look into slander and defamation laws in more detail," said Hermione meditatively, "and how their development dovetails with the history of duelling over insults. Of course it would be rather beneath Lord Nott to dignify an eleven-year-old with a response, however much of a celebrity he might be, and I'm not sure how an insult to a family member differs from an insult to oneself in terms of honour-based expectations..."
"We can discuss it later, once they've gone, if you like," Harry chimed in, "I think one of the older etiquette books did touch on something of that nature." Weasley's jaw actually dropped at that. Idiot probably couldn't conceive of anyone voluntarily reading etiquette books - or reading in general, given the contemptuous glances he had been giving the piles of books.
"Fine," the apparent brains of the operation announced, after a long pause. "Be that way. You'll soon change your tune once you realise you've got no friends in Gryffindor - it's not like they're going to get in." Another speaking look, and they left, slamming the door behind them. Harry re-warded the compartment.
"However shall I cope with not 'getting in' to Gryffindor," Theo deadpanned, and they were all laughing.
"I should hope we'd all stay friends even if we do go into different houses," said Harry firmly, "not that I imagine for a moment I'll actually be in Gryffindor like he thinks. That room they gave me back at Potter Manor is pretty much solid red and gold - Jules actually said they didn't have bedspreads in any other colours, can you believe it? But that reminds me, I didn't actually say - Miss Granger, will you do me the honour of calling me Harry?"
"If you will call me Hermione," she replied, and then broke the demure manner to grin at him. "It's nice to have friends."
Theo couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this content. He loosened his Occlumency shields for a moment, to bask in the feeling of his friends' magic - he had friends - and then froze, horrified.
"Hermione, what happened to you? Are you ill? Did someone curse you?" He threw up a few extra shields, specifically focused on the prevention of eavesdropping. "You can say anything, no-one outside can hear us. Did a spell you were trying go wrong? Did something happen with one of your tutors?" Harry was picking up on his concern, but Hermione just looked perplexed.
"I don't know what you mean," she said, and this wasn't the usual I-don't-know-what-you-mean that acknowledged they'd strayed into dangerous waters, it seemed genuine. She had no idea.
"Your magic," he said. Still nothing. He sighed. "Look, don't bandy this around." He waited for both of them to nod. "I have an ability - I don't advertise it - to sense other people's magic, at least to a certain degree, when I concentrate on it. Yours feels completely different from when I first met you - incredibly diminished. It's like someone crippled you, and I have no idea if it can be fixed."
"Oh!" she said, and relaxed all at once. "I think I know what that is. Give me a moment." She fumbled with the front of her blouse for a moment - he hastily averted his eyes - and then she was taking off some kind of necklace, a red leather cord with whatever the pendant was hidden in her fist. "Hmm, I suppose that's still skin contact," she said, and tucked it under the top layer of clothing in her trunk. "What about now?" she asked. "Am I back to normal?" Theo breathed in, breathed out again, and focused. Yes, that was more like it. She was as she had been last September, only rather stronger - as one would expect from a year's growth - her magic a little darker - as one would expect from a year of practising whatever Dark Arts she was being taught alongside standard magic.
"Yes, you are," he said. "Wherever did that necklace come from? That's dangerous stuff - I've never heard of anything that can just shear off part of somebody's magic like that - and it's not like you have a trained adult at home to help you if something goes wrong!" He was already reaching towards the trunk, and she pushed his hand away.
"Don't!" she said hastily. "It's not what you're thinking, anyway. It was-" she coughed, and her hand went to her throat, and she glanced at Harry. A frown. "It doesn't shear off my magic. I've had it for weeks now, and I tested it extensively. My magic works just the same whether I'm wearing it or not, with the same limitations for both power and stamina. It's meant to hide me, that's all. So-" another pause, "-so people don't think I'm too Dark. In case any of the authorities are hostile to people whose magic feels excessively Dark, which my friends were worried mine might. The person who gave it to me was - ah - introduced to me by my primary tutor, Mr C, who I've known since I was eight, and this person - Mr P, maybe? - he swore a vow not to harm me unless I move against him first, and to be generous in cases of possible misinterpretation. So I know it's not a bad thing."
"Is that normal for tutoring arrangements in the magical world?" asked Harry.
"Not really," said Theo. "It's not unheard of, for tutoring in skills like Occlumency, where the tutor will end up learning a great many of their student's secrets, and the other way around to a lesser extent, for there to be vows in place to protect privacy and such, but most people don't bother for most subjects. Hermione's tutors are... different. And as far as I can make out, she's under a vow to be discreet about them around people who might not approve - and there are people in the Wizarding world who would very much disapprove of her having any contact at all with such beings." He had shocked her. "I'm not one of them," he went on, as gently as he was capable of. "Neither is my father. Harry's father is. So is the Headmaster. You'll need to be careful. Don't look him in the eye if you can possibly help it. In fact, try not to look adult wixen in the eye as a general rule."
"It said in A Meditation on Manners that the reason that it was a point of etiquette not to do so - or only to do so when one particularly wished to impress an interlocutor with one's sincerity and genuineness - was because of Legilimency." She pronounced the word carefully, with the stress in the wrong place. "But none of the books will say what that is, or even mention it."
"Legilimency," he corrected her pronunciation. "It and Occlumency are the two main branches of what is commonly known as the Mind Arts. Occlumency is defensive and protective; Legilimency is offensive and investigative. Most people never learn either, or even hear of them. Some people learn a little bit of Occlumency, but never take it very far; if they want to train their recall, or if they have particularly acute senses or special abilities and don't want to be overwhelmed by them to the point of incapacitation. I had to learn a little for that reason-" what was it about these people that had him spilling so many secrets? "-though I'm by no means a master. Just enough that I can switch it on and off. I wouldn't have been capable of visiting Diagon Alley, let alone studying at Hogwarts with so many other students, if I hadn't learned."
"Offensive mind arts..." Harry said slowly, and then all at once at a much louder volume: "you mean there are wizards who can read people's minds? And a lot of people don't even know it's a thing! Is it just reading, or can they also alter things?"
"Yes," said Theo, "but true Legilimens are very rare, much rarer than Occlumens. And even a small amount of Occlumency training is enough that you can at least tell if someone's intruding, or trying to intrude. And most attempts at Legilimency do require eye contact. Hence the rule. And yes, the Headmaster is a known Legilimens, so neither of you should look him in the eye, at all. Especially not you, Hermione. As far as I know-" he gave a little bow to Harry "-your secrets are much more dangerous."
"I want to learn this Occlumency," they both said, nearly simultaneously, then grinned at each other.
"Most of the textbooks are varying degrees of illegal," Theo said, "and you absolutely must not bandy around that you are learning. You shouldn't really even let on that you've heard of it. I'm not competent to really teach anyone." He sighed. "But I suppose I could at least tell you some of the foundational exercises. Things Father had me working on before we started lessons proper." Harry brightened, closed and re-opened his trunk while muttering something, and then pulled out another book. The Subtleties: On the Arte of Mind Magicke. Theo shook his head.
"Of course you would, Harry," he said. "That's one of the more illegal ones. Older. And I have no idea if it's a good place for a beginner to start."
"I suppose I'll just have to copy it for you, then," said Harry brightly. He cast Geminio, right there and then, and then they tidied both copies into their trunks immediately. Hermione took advantage of the distraction to put her necklace back on. He still hadn't had even so much of a glimpse of it.