Between Classes and Chapters
Two weeks into the term:
“Hey, Harry?”
He looked up from writing in his journal to see Hermione worry her lip. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry if this is inconsiderate of me, but I thought you might like a starting point.” She ignored his confusion and handed him a book on Indian Wixen culture.
He took it with a shaking hand. She patted his hand, and left him to break d own about the life he could have had if things had been different. Instead, she went back to her own room to start reading An Introduction to Basic Healing, the healing bruises on Harry’s arm on the train fresh in her mind.
The evening after yet another group of older Gryffindors cornered the “traitors” of Slytherin:
“C’mon, Potter.” Flint picked the book out of Harry’s hands and gestured towards the common room door.
“Marcus, no, I’m tired.”
“Hadrian, this is the third time one of you firsties has come up to tell me that you got threatened by some idiots. Not to mention, a few upper years have already mentioned testing the three of you to ensure the unlikely additions to Slytherin will be a credit to the house. At the very least, you and I are going to go over the basics over defensive dueling. After I make sure you’ve got that down, we’ll switch to offense. Terry’s already waiting down there. Where are your shadows?”
“Ron’s writing a letter to his mum in the first year’s lounge, and Hermione is debating our Transfiguration essay with Nott in the Slytherin library. I’ll grab Ron when I put my book away, we can get Hermione on the way.”
Ron was more than happy to put off his letter for new magic. Hermione was a little harder to pull away, but Theo promised to watch her things and pull a few more books out for her return.
Harry ended up loving it. Years with Dudley and his gang had honed his ability to dodge and run, and he was still laughing while Ron and Hermione were panting on the ground.
The spells they learned didn’t hurt his attitude either.
Plus, the fact that Marcus showed them the kitchens after, and introduced them to Tweak, the house elf dedicated to Slytherin house?
That was just the cream on the cake that was placed in front of them down in the kitchens.
A few days after the troll incident:
“Holy—”
“Language, Ronald.”
Harry grinned at the center of the empty room. “There’s a loo just down the hall, still technically in the abandoned part, and I already ran down to the kitchens and got Tweak to promise to help me fit it with some furniture next week. I think he was hoping that if I start hanging out in a single place, he can feed me more.” He walked over to the others and spread his arms. “I was thinking of calling it The Nook. A little hideaway in a cranny of the school. Just for us. And any friends we think are worth it.”
Hermione grinned. “I love it. We’ll need a massive table, maybe some bookshelves for some books we don’t use that often. Maybe a teacart in the corner, if Tweak doesn’t mind.” She walked around, pulling out a notepad to start taking notes.
Ron wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “This is bloody brilliant, mate.”
After dinner one day, in the Potions classroom.
“Professor Snape, I have a question about the essay you set this morning.”
“Potter, I can guarantee that whatever questions you may have would be more fitting for an essay assigned two years from now. As much as it pains me to admit, you are more than familiar with this essay’s subject. Leave, I’m busy overseeing this detention.”
Harry turned to see a blushing Sophie Roper, hair pushed back with a yellow bandana, scrubbing furiously at a cauldron. Snape didn’t seem to be concerned when Harry inched closer to her, leaning against the table she was at.
“What did you do, Roper? Rare to see a badger, let alone a first year, in detention.”
She turned even more red. “Iwasbaking.”
Harry leaned closer. “I’m sorry, what?”
Snape sneered from grading tests at his desk. “Yes, Roper, tell Potter what idiocy led you here.”
She took a deep breath and put down the brush she was using. “Fine. I was trying to use the burners in my potions station to bake biscuits. Professor Snape did not appreciate it, nor my offer to make him any.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “You what? In the station you were using? Don’t you know that could disrupt the flow of heat to your cauldron? You’re lucky we were only brewing the Herbicide Potion this week, if it had been anything more complicated, the lack of stability could have compromised the integrity and possibly have it blown up in your face!”
“Yes, Hadrian, I am now fully aware of the danger of misusing my station. Thank you for the repeated lesson. Can you follow the professor’s suggestion and leave? I’m mortified enough as it is.”
Harry scoffed. “Badger got bite. Fine.”
Neither student noticed Snape drop his quill, nor the smile on his face as a frustrated Harry left the room, leaving Sophie to continue scrubbing.
During December’s Hell Week of Term One, in the Nook:
“Sound board.”
The first time Harry had asked for a sounding board, most of them had been confused. Hermione and Anthony were instantly listening, but the others shared a confused glance. Harry was thrilled to put his thoughts about evolution in magical owls on hold to share some of his random knowledge, telling them about how muggle religious gatherings in the Renaissance period would use boards placed strategically to make their speeches louder.
But by now, they were all used to this call, of one or another of them needing a theory thrown out and discussed. Especially when Harry or one of the Ravenclaws decided to take an essay in a direction that wasn’t necessarily what was asked. They would call out ‘sound board’, and everyone who could would put down what they were doing and would starting throwing around ideas.
The Nook had a literal board they had made, of a list of ideas or theories, whether it be for a class, an assignment, Harry’s research, gossip… And they would write notes when they thought of it, arguments written in the margins of the board, chalk getting smaller as they ran out of room.
By Hell Week, a term Justin told them his brother at Eton uses when everyone’s cramming for exams, they had gotten used to the term, and the Nook once again fell into lively discussions that were probably too complicated for most pre-teens to follow.
Sometime in mid-September:
“—and next thing I know, the glass was gone, and the snake was snapping left and right on its way out of the doors.”
“Blimey, Hadrian, how’d you know that zoo had vanishing glass?” One of the twins leaned over him to get to the pumpkin juice.
“Wait, vanishing glass is a thing?”
The other twin grinned across the table. “No. But it will be. Thanks for the idea, Hadrian.”
Two hours later:
“Ron?”
“Yeah, Harry?”
“Tell me and Hermione how to tell your brothers apart?”
After the fifth History of Magic class:
She was tired. She was bored. She was done. Her wrist hurt and she was exhausted.
She walked up to Prefect Khan with an expectant look.
“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“I understand that Professor Binns has been teaching for over two centuries, and word on the wind is that his lessons plan changes less often than Professor Snape’s expression. So obviously we must have an in-house method of passing the class without making anyone suffer through even more inane droning.”
He laughed. “Congratulations, Granger, you’re the first of the firsties this year to be smart about History and ask for help. Your prize is to be the official holder of the first year study guide. Written and perfected over the years, this is everything you need to know to pass the final with flying colors. Only one copy. Do with it what you will.”
Hermione walked away with a smug grin and a pile of scrolls.
The weekend after the failed ‘Midnight Duel’ in the Newbloods Classroom:
“Wait, what?”
“Three heads?”
“Hadrian, please tell me you didn’t adopt it and that it’s not somewhere in our dorms.”
“How big is it?”
“Fred, whatever you’re thinking, no.”
“Hannah, why are you taking notes?”
“I don’t know, Justin, why aren’t you?”
The first week of Term Two:
“Psst. Hey, Ronald.”
“Parkinson? What’s up?”
“You eat with your brothers a lot, don’t you.”
“Yeah?”
“Got a lot of friends in other houses.”
“Sure.”
“…You ever hear some good gossip?”
“Might have. People tend to ignore just another Weasley.”
“I have money.”
“You’re on.”
The week before December in the middle of the near-full common room.
“Potter!”
Harry groaned from his sprawl on the couch, sitting up when he saw the look of regal fury on the face of the source of the voice. “Evening, Greengrass. Davis, nice to see you skulking as usual. Would you two like to take a seat? Maybe have whatever conversation at a lower volume?”
“No, I would not like to sit. I want to know what your game is.” Daphne stood over him, head held high even while some of the closer students tilted their heads to listen in. She had lowered her voice somewhat, but didn’t seem to care that her words would carry to nearby groups.
“What game would that be, Heir Greengrass?”
“Don’t act dumb, Potter. I know you pay attention. I know you see Malfoy and I gaining allies. I know you’re a third side in our year. Why aren’t you acting like it?”
Harry met Hermione’s, then Ron’s amused looks. “Why would I?”
“Excuse me?” Daphne’s voice echoed, causing a few more people to look their way, and Tracey placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
Harry shifted, leaning towards her. “Look Daphne, may I call you Daphne? I’m the Boy-Who-Lived, heir to both the Potters and the Blacks. As much as I absolutely hate the title and the political power that gives me, it’s not something that anyone else is able to forget. They know I’m here. They know where I stand, it’s not like I’m quiet about my opinions, especially when one of my friends is involved.”
He tilted his head with a grin. “And yes, I do see the adorable little power plays you and Draco have in the common room. It’s very educational. But when people get tired of watching you two children playact, they turn and see someone who has already, time and time again, put his actions behind his words, especially to those who stand beside him. So, I have not need to join the theatrics of claiming power. I already have it. Feel free to keep on, though. Just know that while you’re playing for followers in the Slytherin house, I’ve already gained friends in multiple houses and across multiple years, not to mention the connections I have beyond Hogwarts. I don’t need to play your games. I’m rebuilding my family names.”
Daphne stood even taller, her eyes too-bright and her jaw set tightly. “Indeed. Excuse me, then.” She turned with a soft huff and stormed off, Tracey wincing and following behind, ignoring the appraising looks the other students in the room were shooting the boy on the couch.
Harry deflated in his seat, head thunking on the back, lolling over to glare at Hermione, who was paying no attention as she took notes on her tome about the history of the Wizengamot. “The things I do so you can plan for an army to coup the Ministry with.”
A Monday evening towards the middle of first term.
“Hadrian James!” Hermione slammed open the door to the Nook, causing all of the students in it to jump.
“I didn’t do it!” Harry instantly stood, hands out in a placating gesture.
“Exactly! You never told me why you were an expert in closets!”
Dean blinked a few times before meeting Justin’s gaze. “Like…”
“No, Dean, not that. It’s not that big a deal, Hermione. I just… I grew up in one.”
The room went quiet, purebloods and newbloods alike watching the boy in horror.
“What?” Hermione’s voice was quiet, and Ron moved back against the wall, recognizing the tone as something similar to what his mother would use when she was angrier than she could handle.
“Like I said, Mione, it’s not that big a deal. We don’t need to hash this out-”
“Hadrian, you are so open with everything in this world, but you won’t let us in about your time in the muggle world? How does that make sense?” Susan called from where she had moved, placing a gentle hand on Hermione’s shoulder.
Hannah looked over to him, no pity on her face, only a firm understanding. “If you put out a call for help, and people choose to answer, that’s not on you. That’s on us, because we care about you. Let us.”
Harry deflated, sitting back down. He was the only one in the room who didn’t notice the way his shoulders shook. He also didn’t notice Theo, who had the habit of lurking in the corner without interacting with anyone not in green, move to the door, just able to hear Harry’s next words before he closed the door behind him. “My aunt and uncle. They had me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. They moved me after my letter came.”
“Moved you to where?”
“…My cousin’s extra room?” Harry winced.
“His extra room? How many bedrooms are in your aunt’s house?” Hannah asked, sitting beside Harry and leaning into his side.
“Um… The master, the guest room, Dudley’s room, and his spare room. Four.”
Hermione took a deep breath. “Four rooms. And they had you in a cupboard for eleven years?”
“Nine and a half, since I was eighteen months old when I went to them.”
“Blimey, mate, no wonder you’re so scrawny, you can’t grow like that!”
Neville was nodding along, having shown up for the first time in since Harry had found the room weeks ago. “Plants can’t grow if you don’t give them space to root. It’s the same with people.”
Harry felt sick, digging his fingernails into his thigh. “I don’t know. It’s all I remember, and it got to the point where it was my safe place, because none of the Dursleys could really fit in there. I could hide there when I wasn’t cooking or doing chores, and by the time I was old enough to ask questions, I had learned not to.”
“What kind of chores, mate? Like, for allowance?”
Harry laughed, a hollow sound that made everyone in the room wince. “Yeah right. If you count meals as allowance. No. I cleaned, I worked in the gardens, I cooked whatever meals they asked of me, and if I was lucky, quick, and quiet, I could eat table scraps.”
“You cooked but you weren’t allowed to eat what you made?”
Harry shook his head, his fingers pushing further into muscle.
Hannah pulled his hand away from his leg, lacing their fingers together instead. “Harry, you understand that that’s wrong, don’t you? I don’t know about in the muggle world, but even here, our house elves get treated with more respect than that.”
Harry met her gaze, one of sympathy but not pity, and he felt his heart break in his chest, tears beginning to fall. “It’s all I knew,” he whispered, his words still carrying to everyone in the room.
Dean pulled at Justin’s arm. “C’mon, mate, we don’t need to be here for this.”
Justin nodded, jaw set as he stood. “Just…” He sighed. “We’re here if you need us.”
Soon enough, the room had mostly emptied, only Ron, Hermione, Susan, and Hannah remaining.
Harry was not in a headspace to speak anymore, clutching at Hannah’s hand and almost collapsing into her lap from his chair next to her. She just squeezed back, rubbing his back as she watched Hermione, Ron, and Susan circle up a few yards away, voices only a whisper.
“I’ll write my aunt, and see if there’s anything legally we can do without proof.” Susan clenched her fists at her sides.
“His lawyer, we should reach out to him. Or have your aunt do it,” Ron added, chewing on a fingernail.
“He already has a lawyer? That’s good. I’ll be sure to let her know.”
“We have to be careful. He’s already said that the headmaster had something to do with his placement with his aunt. I’m not sure how much good yours can do against Dumbledore.” Hermione sighed as she met Hannah’s gaze. “We may just have to be… Slytherin about this.”
“How so?” Susan asked.
“Unless things have changed, I’ll have a nanny of sorts for the summer. She’ll have a means of travel. It shouldn’t be too much trouble to talk her into visiting a friend on occasion. I doubt Justin would have an issues doing the same. Dean might, but I think between Justin and I we can keep an eye on him until we can get him into the Leaky or someone’s house.”
Ron dropped his voice even lower. “He won’t want to stay with anyone. He already thinks it would be an imposition. Now we know why. He’s used to taking up as little space as possible.”
Susan placed a hand on his arm. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe start with a night here or there, and then by next summer work him up to possibly not paying for lodgings. Although having Hannah’s uncle watch him is leagues above him staying with them.”
Hermione kept watching Harry slowly fall asleep in Hannah’s lap, the exhaustion of his confession outweighing the unnatural curl he was in. “If he shows up to the train with bruises again, there may not be a them to go back to.”