A Mind Full of Chaos
The rest of the holiday break was spent reading through all of their new books, passing their favorites between each other, and talking the older Weasley boys into teaching them new spells. While Ron and Harry prodded the twins to relay some of their prank spells, Hermione sweet-talked an oblivious Percy into sharing the best spells for those of the academic mindset. After they retreated back to the boys’ lounge, they would swap and practice, and brainstorm how to use each in ways no one would expect. And, to Harry’s delight, the break also included pages of notes about the magical creatures found in the Forest he got to meet with Professor Kettleburn.
Before they knew it, the Hogwarts Express had returned, and the dungeons were once again full. The night of the train’s arrival, the house elves had made a scaled down version of the Welcoming Feast at the beginning of the year, and the students filled themselves with food as though the holidays hadn’t been spent doing the same.
Harry had just finished a second helping of treacle tart (the elves seemed to remember his fondness for it and made sure to place a plate of it in front of his usual seat) when the Headmaster rose to his feet.
Harry and Ron ignored the majority of the flowing speech, something about reaffirming themselves to their studies for the last stretch of the year, until a sharp jab from Hermione made them tune back in.
“—so I will say this as a general reminder. Much of this castle has been abandoned, and many rooms hold lost relics and artifacts from unknown previous residents. These relics can be strange and powerful, and we could learn much from them, but the first thing we all must learn is patience and safety. While the staff do not begrudge the curious minds of our students, please be wary of such objects. Especially when it is after curfew.”
Harry and Ron shared a loaded glance, but neither moved to look up at the staff table, even when Harry could swear he felt the weight of Dumbledore’s gaze on the side of his face.
Slowly, groups began leaving the hall, back to dorms or classrooms to study and reconnect. Harry, however, gave his friends a sly grin and headed across the room towards the dais behind which the headmaster stood. Ron groaned and followed behind, Hermione not even bothering to stand.
Dumbledore looked quite pleased to see Harry approach. His eyes were mirthful and twinkled when Harry stopped a few feet shy, head tilted, eyeing him speculatively.
“Yes, my boy?”
Harry was too focused to wince at the adage. “You must be related to Garrick. I swear if I closed my eyes while you were speaking, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”
Dumbledore looked a little shocked, both at his familiarity with the wandmaker and his lack of confession in regard to their midnight explorations, but smiled genially. “Not related, no. Just old friends.”
Harry gave a disbelieving hum and turned to head back towards an impatient Ron.
Ron, who immediately leaned into Harry and whispered under his breath, “very old friends, I’m guessing.”
Harry’s laughter pealed around the near empty room and, with a now-standing Hermione, the three headed towards the dungeons to greet their House friends.
“Hadrian, I don’t think you understand the point, you’re supposed to skiv off classes, not sneak into more.” George peered down to a blushing Harry the first day back in classes.
“Shuddup. Fred didn’t seem to have an issue with hiding me for class.”
The twins shared a grin at the small victory of their newest little brother being able to tell them apart so quickly in the year.
“I just thought that it would be a funny prank. But now I see that you actually want to learn, and I’m properly mortified.”
“Too bad. I’m planning on doing this at least once a week, and I’ve already made Flick, Terry, and Marcus promise to let me know if their classes are doing anything worth me coming down to see.” Harry shoved at Fred’s attempt to ruffle his hair.
“And here we thought Hermione was the swot.”
“Just for this class. I promise. And maybe potions. But from what I hear, you two aren’t allowed to give me shit about being above my course level in potions.”
The twins laughed as they wound their way down to the clearing that was the CoMC class’s outdoor classroom. “Fair enough, Potter. Fair enough.”
Harry knocked on the door to the Head Girl’s dorm that evening, a book tucked under his arm. Flick opened her door, sighed at seeing her favorite first year with an innocent smile.
“What’s the book.”
He held up An Introduction to Hearth Magic and Rituals, and shot her his best puppy-dog eyes.
"Just show me a few? I haven’t been sleeping well, and I saw a ritual on good dreams…”
She groaned and closed her door behind her. “C’mon. We’ll do this in the Nook unless we need to be outside for something, and then you can show me a good place in the Forest. We’ll focus on one at a time, and once you master one, we’ll move on to the next. By the end of the year you should have a few under your belt, and you should be able to do a few even with the muggles.”
Harry bounced after her with a grin.
It wasn’t until after the first full week of the new term that Ron and Hermione realized something was wrong. Harry had taken to napping a bit more between classes, but they had just assumed that it was due to the weather, the cold, and covered him with a blanket. But after their Transfiguration class that Friday, where Pansy concernedly eyed Harry’s even more lackluster than usual attempts, the three of them made their way to the Nook to do the weekend’s homework before dinner.
Harry, however, immediately sprawled across a couch and start breathing deeply, falling asleep near instantly.
Ron met Hermione’s worried eyes. “Whatever it is, it’s getting worse. Nott even pulled me aside to suggest taking him to the Hospital Wing, that the break must not have settled well with him.”
Hermione bit her lip as she watched Harry’s mop of hair peek out from the Weasley blanket Ron had taken to leaving in the Nook, with promises from Tweak that it would stay safe. “He seemed fine. The only thing I can imagine bothering him would be that blasted mirror, but he hasn’t even mentioned it since.”
“Doesn’t mention a lot, does he though?”
Silence fell between them as Harry snored softly, near silently.
“Let’s give it the weekend. If he doesn’t seem to be recovered by classes on Monday, we’ll drag him to Madam Pomfrey after Potions.”
Ron nodded, and they set to work on their assignments.
They had just set aside their Herbology essay, with a few questions they expected to ask of Neville at dinner that night, when Harry began twitch. And not just a jerk of a limb. But a full-body reaction.
Ron instantly sprang to his feet, leaping across the room to his friend’s side. At another violent twitch, a tentative hand went to brush through his hair, only for Ron to recoil. “Blimey, he's burning up!”
Hermione was at their side the next instant, feeling Harry’s skin herself. “Nightmare?”
At Ron’s shrug, she began petting through the sleeping boy’s hair. “Harry? Wake up. Please wake up, you’re scaring us.” He gave another twitch. “Hadrian, please wake up.” She pitched her voice louder and closer to his ear.
Harry sat up instantly, chest heaving as he blinked the sleep away. “Wha-Where am I?”
“Mate, we’re in the Nook. Just you, me, and Mione here. Deep breaths, mate.” Ron settled in front of him on the couch, Hermione on her knees on the floor beside them.
Harry took a deep breath. “Right. Course. Sorry.”
Hermione’s displaced hand settled on his knee. “Talk to us, Hadrian, you’re scaring us. You haven’t eaten much this week and you’re always so tired. What’s wrong?” She missed Ron’s quiet groan beside her.
Harry ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “I thought it’d go away on its own. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to worry you.” He pulled his knees up to his chest, but Hermione’s hand stayed attached even with the movement.
“Harry, keeping whatever is going on to yourself obviously isn’t working. Maybe if you talk about it? You know we’ll listen to whatever you have to say. Or perhaps we can catch Professor Snape before dinner?”
He was already shaking his head. “Professor Snape has enough to worry about without me whining about some stupid nightmares to him.”
“I don’t think—” Hermione was cut off by Ron’s look.
“Look, mate, if you don’t want to talk about it, maybe Madam Pomfrey has something you can take to help you sleep.” He poked Harry’s leg. “I’m just surprised I haven’t noticed you having nightmares before. We share a wall.”
Harry peeked out from the tight circle he had enclosed himself in with a sheepish, guilty grin. “Making noises, especially in the middle of the night, wasn’t something that was looked kindly upon at home. I learned pretty quickly how to wake myself up without screaming or anything. And when I nap, since I’m around others, it doesn’t tend to be so ba…” As soon as he finished speaking, his eyes widened in shock at his own words. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said—I must still be tired, ignore me.”
Ron just nodded with a slight smile. “Why don’t you go freshen up at the loo down the hall? Dinner’ll start soon, and Mione and I wanted to sit with the lions, we want to pick Nev’s brain about the Herbology assignment.”
Harry smiled back, unfurling to stand and leave the room as he kept a worried hand in his hair.
Hermione immediately spun to Ron’s wince. “What was that?”
“Look, Mione, Harry reminds me a lot of Charlie back before he really figured out himself. Always apologizing for being too quiet, or for not paying attention to the conversation, always assuming that we had something better to do than listen to him talk about dragons. It never helped to tell him he was wrong. We had to show him. So telling Harry that Snape wouldn’t mind listening, or keeping things serious when he talks to us about those bloody muggles of his, that won’t help. We just have to find his boundaries and make sure we’re there for him in any way we can be without setting him off. Slowly, if we keep things light and make it seem more normal, he might start opening up.”
Hermione worried her lip again. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how Harry was feeling about things like this. It’s just so frustrating that he won’t talk to us.” She clenched her jaw, working things through her mind before relaxing slightly. “You’re right. He needs time. I forget we’ve only known each other a few months.” She eyed Ron speculatively, a small grin creeping at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe a bit more than a teaspoon.”
It took a second for Ron to make the connection to their conversation on the train, but he was still laughing when Harry crept back into the room, face washed and eyes wary. Ron packed up his and Hermione’s bags and ushered them out of the room, heading towards dinner, even though they still had an hour before the meal was set to start.
“Who knows what mayhem we’ll run into on the way down?” He argued, pulling a bemused Hermione by the hand, Harry trailing after them with a confused but happy smile.
“Or, we could go to the library. We still haven’t really looked into Nicolas Flamel, and Theo gave us a decent place to start.” Hermione gave a fleeting tug on Ron’s hand.
The redhead looked back at Harry. “Whaddya think, mate? Up to breathing in some dust while Hermione talks way above our heads?”
The boys grinned at each other, Hermione not even bothering joining them as she quickly turned back towards the stairs that would lead them to the Central Hall. Ron hiked her bag higher on his shoulder as they watched her disappear around a corner.
Harry scuffed a shoe as he walked beside his friend. “Hey. I just wanted to… Y’know. Thanks. For not bugging me about earlier. It’s just… It’s hard to remember that people actually care now, y’know?”
Ron took a silent breath to keep his shoulders relaxed, not even looking back at Harry. “Course. What are friends for?”
Hermione’s footsteps ahead of them were the only sound for a moment.
“You wanna talk about it?”
Harry shrugged. “I guess Hermione was wrong about me not being able to remember that night, being so young.”
Another breath. “Anything specific?”
“Voices, mostly. Mum. Him laughing. A flash of green. Pain.” Harry’s voice had dropped to almost nothing.
Ron couldn’t help but throw an arm around his shoulders. “Since the mirror?”
Harry’s cheeks darkened even further, as he tried to pull away to no avail. “Yeah.”
“You haven’t gone back, have you?”
“Course not. Even if I did, it would be more to check out the runes than for them. I know it’s not real. It hurts, knowing that thing is here in the school, but I have enough problems without making another out of it.”
Ron pulled Harry closer, stopping them in the middle of the corridor to hug him. “You’re my best friend, you know that, right? You and Mione?”
Harry laughed as his arms wound around Ron’s stomach. “I’d hope so, after half a year of doing practically everything together.”
“Good. Now, c’mon. Before Hermione pulls half the alchemy section off of the shelves and onto some poor table.”
They kept a leisurely pace as they followed the sounds of falling footsteps once more.
Nearly an hour later saw Hermione grin as a massive tome was heaved onto the surface of the table they had claimed for the afternoon. The boys, having gotten distracted with an alchemy project that had nothing to do with Nicolos Flamel but was attempting to use hearth magic in the stead of Latin spells, started and turned to watch her flip through the thick pages.
“Finally. Right, here we go. Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone. It says here that both he and his wife drink its elixir, and both are in their mid-six hundreds. And Circe knows this book probably isn’t the most recent of publications.”
Ron’s brow furrowed, but Harry was looking at the text upside with curiosity. “Philosopher’s stone? Turns metal to gold, yeah? Elixir of Life? It was mentioned in one of the old Potions Weekly issues I’ve been reading through.”
“Metal to gold? Immortal life? No wonder it needs to be protected. Especially if it’s only been made by the one bloke. Can you imagine what the process is going into that?” Ron’s eyes were wide.
Hermione made a noncommittal hum and kept reading through her book.
Harry, however, turned to him with a grin. “Well, basic alchemy looks like a mixture of potions and transfiguration, with a healthy dose of runes to boot. Shame they don’t teach it here anymore, it sounds wicked interesting.”
“I reckon that if you handle the potions, I could try out the runes, and Mione could figure out any of the transfiguration stuff. How hard do you think it could be?”
“I wonder if Flamel would begrudge a few curious students asking questions?” Harry shot his friend a brilliant, innocent grin.
Ron met it with one of his own. “I don’t see why not.”
It wasn’t until they had already rolled up the letter that Hermione had looked up and eyed their grins with a tired glare. “What did you two do? I looked away for ten minutes, tops.”
“More like thirty, Hermione. C’mon, we’re going to miss dinner, and we still have those Herbology questions for Neville.” Ron once again shepherded his friends towards the door, giving a cheery wave to the distrustful eyes of Madam Pince.
They bickered about the benefits of learning basic alchemy the entire way down to the Great Hall, settling around Neville and Dean at the center of the Gryffindor table with amused looks.
“Look, at the very least, I can write to my Aunt Narcissa and see if she or her husband have any insights.”
“Alchemy is at least a third-year project, Harry. If I’m not allowed to tear apart magical artifacts until then, you’re not allowed to try alchemy until then.” Hermione gave a wry grin.
“I’m not saying we have to start now, Mione, but it would be a good introduction, and why not at least see what the literal foremost expert in the field has to say about it.” Harry gave her an innocent smile, and then turned to the Gryffindors. “Hey, Neville, Dean, how’re things?”
Dean just shook his head and turned back to an irritated Seamus. Neville, however, leaned forward. “Alchemy, really?”
Ron shrugged from across the table. “Seems interesting enough.”
“But not yet,” Hermione said sharply. She turned to face the boy next to her. “Say, Neville, we had some questions about Herbology, and we were hoping you might be interested in talking us through them? You have a better grasp how things work, and Harry’s hopeless outside of practicals.”
Harry, loading up his plate, just shot her a V and kept finding inane reasons to reach across Ron’s plate for things, while Ron kept moving said things further out of Harry’s reach.
Neville, ignoring the usual behaviors from the three of them, just nodded. “Sure. After dinner? We can meet up in the library or something? I just have to go grab my bag from the Tower.”
Harry swallowed his mash before speaking up. “We can bring you to the Nook. It’s a lot more comfortable, and Pince won’t be breathing down our necks.”
Ron and Hermione shared a glance, and Ron set down his fork. “You sure? That’s your place, mate, you don’t need to show a bunch of people.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not a bunch of people, it’s Neville. It’s fine. If I need a space all to myself, I have, you know, my bedroom. The Nook should be for our friends. Our coven.” He shot a wink to Hermione even as she rolled her eyes. “We should start showing them all the Nook before the end of the year. It’d be a great place to study for finals.” He looked back at Neville. “Meet us outside the Transfiguration classroom after you grab your stuff, and I’ll introduce you to Ozzy and show you the way.”
Neville looked between the three of them before shrugging. “I didn’t understand half of what you said, but sure. Potatoes, Hadrian?”
The rest of the evening flowed calmly. Neville was impressed with the Nook, and barely blinked at Harry’s Parseltongue. “You’re Indian. It makes sense. I think Parvati mentioned an uncle of hers that owns a snake farm or something, and has a few Parselmouths on the payroll. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” After nearly two hours of arguing good-naturedly about plants, and what Professor Sprout was actually asking for, and back into alchemy and it’s many facets, the group split ways, Neville disappearing up the central staircase while the trio dipped into a secret passageway that led to a door right on the Snake side of the dungeons. Ron’s attempt to get his friends to sleep was quickly waylaid by Theo Nott, who looked rather alarmed as Harry climbed over a couch to sit across from him and pepper him with questions about alchemy, Hermione still chiding him about its complex nature.
Nott, however, took to the conversation with a slight grin. Harry matched it, glad that the shy boy was slowly warming up to others outside of Draco and Pansy. He was more than happy to regard them with stories of a great uncle that attempted to create a philosopher’s stone, only to have it literally blow up in his face, and end up in St. Mungo’s.
Finally, one of the fifth-year prefects, Silas Lee, hovered over them with a disapproving frown. “It may be a Friday night, but it’s near midnight. Off to bed. Or at least, out of the common room.”
Theo blanched at the time, and vanished down the hall. Harry narrowed his eyes at Lee while his friends prodded him off the couch.
“So you’re saying you’re not going to be awake for a while longer, Prefect Lee?” Harry’s voice drawled, his eyes flashing with mischief.
“I’m a fifth-year, Potter, I have OWLs to study for.” Lee didn’t seem to notice the smug smile on the younger boy’s face.
“Ah. Right. OWLs. Nothing to do with the sixth year Ravenclaw who somehow found his way into the Dueling Room in the dungeons? And has for near every Friday since the start of the year?”
Hermione’s eyes widened and she tried to hide a gasp. Ron, however, took one look at the sheer alarm in Lee’s face and shoved a hand in his mouth to muffle his laughter.
The older boy gaped. “How—”
Harry finally stood, reaching up to pat Lee’s shoulder. “Have fun, Lee. Slytherin will keep your secrets. But you should probably tell Barnes that Ravenclaw may not be so accommodating.”
He walked towards the dorms, his friends at either shoulder.
“Hadrian James, don’t antagonize the prefects!” Hermione whispered as they descended the stairs.
“What are you talking about, that was brilliant! How’d you know about that, Harry?”
“Padma mentioned seeing Sam Barnes sneaking back into the Ravenclaw tower the night before we let out for hols, wearing a Slytherin scarf to hide hickeys. Between Pansy, Lavender, and Parvati, it wasn’t hard to figure out why.” At the doorway to the boys’ lounge, Harry looked to a worried Hermione. “Look, don’t worry. Marcus has been helping me figure out the best way to get the older kids off of our backs. Not everyone will back off because of him or Flick. And we may be able to hold our own in duels with the younger years, but the uppers need an incentive to think twice. It’s all part of the plan.”
When she looked to Ron for help, she deflated at his shrug. “He’s got a point, Mione. This is a child’s play version of the politics we’ll see after we graduate. Better to start perfecting this shite now than to keep our heads down and hope we get it right later.”
She set her jaw. “Fine. I just find it a bit hard to believe that flinging around information about something like that will get us anywhere. But you and Marcus know more about this than I do.”
Harry gave her a gentle hug. “I’ll be sure to get Marcus up early tomorrow morning so you can ask him all sorts of things about school politics.”
She gave them both a soft smile and disappeared into the girls’ lounge.
They watched her go, Ron not looking at his friend when he asked under his breath, “And how do you know about hickeys?”
Harry groaned and backed into the boys’ lounge. “I made the mistake of asking about a bruise on Marcus’s neck and next thing I know I’m getting a very detailed sex talk by him and then far too much information on how Oliver is good with both his hands and his mouth.”
“Blech. He knows we’re eleven, right? That’s gross.”
“I dunno. Not even dumping water on his head was enough to shut him up.” They hesitated outside of Harry’s doorway.
“How are you feeling after everything?” Ron’s voice was soft, even though every other door in the room was closed.
Harry nodded. “I’m good. I think you two were right, talking about it, even a bit, helped.” He looked down, noticing a scuff on his shoe. “Thanks again.”
Ron wrapped him in another hug. “Course. Listen, if you have another one, you said they weren’t as bad when there was someone else in the room?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Good. Come knock on my door. I reckon my bed’ll fit the both of us with room to spare.”
Harry turned a dark red and sputtered. “Ron, what? That has to be against some rule or something, that’s tota—”
Ron’s hand covered his mouth. “I could give two shits what the rules say. If it helps you get through the night, we can share a bed. I’d say we could move our beds into the same room, but there’s not enough space, and those things seem heavy.”
Pushing Ron’s hand away, Harry nodded again. “Okay. I will.”
Ron leaned down, trying to look for something in his eyes. “Promise?”
“Yes, Ronald, I promise. Can I go to bed now?”
A few seconds later, Ron gave a brisk nod and let him go, watching him close the door behind him with a worried frown not out of place on his mother’s face.
“Marcus, no. Madam Pomfrey already said I couldn’t, and Professor Snape will murder both of us if I try to sneak out.”
“C’mon, Potter, live a little.” The sixth year grinned down at Harry and Pansy, who were playing cards as they watched people file into Great Hall.
“He’s trying to live, Flint, and that’s why he won’t go practice flying in freezing temperatures for a team he’s not even on yet. Pomfrey said he’s still too skinny to be outside for that long in the winter. Get over it. You’re lucky he still even goes out to the games.” Pansy didn’t even look up from her hand.
Marcus groaned. “Fine. But I still expect you to show up for dueling practice.” He disappeared, presumably to go bother his boyfriend.
Pansy shot Harry an expectant look. “You get dueling practice from Flint?”
Harry shrugged. “Why do you think we’ve gotten less and less challenges? Marcus tells people he trains with us, we wipe the floor with the lower years, people get the message. And by people I mean those not in Gryffindor.”
Pansy let out a quiet giggle. “Fair enough. The older lions still giving you trouble?”
“When aren’t they? And they only reason Dean and Neville don’t have it worse is because Fred and George have made sure that it’s clear they’ll get back at anyone who messes with them.”
“Mm. Do we need to have a fact-finding mission soon?”
The gleam in her eyes made Harry lean forward with a grin. “I think that may be just what we need. Any ideas?”
“I’ve heard McCormick has a scorned ex in the badger den. Think Finch-Fletchley would invite us around?” Pansy matched his grin.
“One way to find out.” Harry stood at the table, eyes scanning the yellow robes that just entered the Hall. Meeting Susan’s gaze, he motioned for her to come over, and as he expected, she pulled Hannah and Justin behind her.
As they neared, Pansy watched Harry once more.
“What?” He saw her questioning glance and responded with a raised eyebrow, a little too similar to their Head of House.
“No one wants to mention it, but Granger hasn’t been answering questions in class anymore. Is she… okay?”
Harry bit back a grin. “It was a bit of a transition from the way muggle schools expect their students to be. In the muggle world, we’re expected to learn to answer the questions on the test. So up until now, her worth in a school was based on how well she tested, and how well she knew what the teacher was asking. It didn’t help that she’s not the best at reading people, so she buried herself in reading books to make up for that. Hermione finally accepted that she needs to start learning for the sake of learning, to understand and build on that for future lessons. It took ages.” He laughed as the Hufflepuffs settled around them. “Justin, how long did it take you to get used to not needing to answer every question a teacher asks?”
Justin sighed dramatically. “Oh, it was terrible. The girls would have to hold my hand down on the desk to get me to stop. My schools were always based on participation, and if the teachers didn’t see you raise your hand, you’d get marked down. We talking about Hermione finally catching on?”
“Yeah. I think it helped that we got her debating with the Ravenclaws and the older years a bit, so she can figure out the practicality of what we’re learning rather than just what the answer on the test would be.”
“Hm.” Pansy eyed the first-gen for a moment, and then leaned in with a sharp grin. “So, we’re planning on getting back at one of Hadrian’s bullies in Gryffindor. Can you three get us into your common room later?”
Ron was sitting between Draco (who had only slightly gotten better after his mother sent him a letter about being a Black as well as a Malfoy, and not to dishonor his cousin, the Heir of the House Black) and Millicent Bulstrode, who was surprisingly into Quidditch. Harry and Hermione were a little further down, as close to the stairs of the stands as possible.
Hermione was about to throttle her best friend.
“Harry, I swear to Hecate that if you don’t settle down—”
He leaned into her side. “I’m sorry, Mione. My head’s all over the place with these nightmares and stuff. I don’t know if I can sit through a game right now.”
Harry ducked out of the way of her curls as she turned to face him. “What? Harry, you dragged me all the way down here and now you don’t even want to watch the match?”
“Shh. I didn’t want to worry Ron, you know he’s been hovering like mad since the other day in the Nook. He was so happy when we agreed to come. I just… I’m too jittery to stay.”
She groaned, tucking her book into Harry’s expandable bag. “Let’s go.” Harry grinned and stood. “Hey Flick?”
“What’s up, Hermione?” The seventh year emerged from the huddle of upper years doing Merlin knows what.
“If Ron asks where we are, tell him we went for a walk, will you?”
“Sure thing. Have fun. Don’t let Hadrian fall off of anything.”
Harry shot her the V as they started down the stairs, weaving between students going to the game.
“Alright, Harry, where are we going?”
The guilty look on his face made Hermione groan. “You seriously want to go into the Forest right now? Where three quarters of the student body are right there and could easily look over and see us?”
“No one will see us. And we’ll stick to the outskirts, where we can run right back out if something goes wrong. It’ll be fine.”
“What’s going to go wrong is that I’m going to murder you and leave your body for the centaurs to find.” Hermione glared at him as she wrapped her scarf around her neck tighter.
“You’d be the first to succeed out of the many who have tried.” Harry laced their arms together and pulled her into the forest once they were out of sight from the stands. He kept his word, keeping them just in sight of the light filtering through the thinner areas of the forest. On occasion he would take out his notebook and scribble something down, other times he would just take a deep breath and enjoy.
“What are we even looking for, Harry?” Hermione sighed as he pulled ahead, making his way into a clearing.
“Why do we have to be looking for anything, Mione? Can’t you feel the weight of the magick in the air? It’s enough to just be here. Based on the way this clearing is set up, I think we’re close to the centaur’s camp.” He leaned back, staring up at the canopy.
"And how do you know all of this?”
He shot her a guilty smile. “Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn have been teaching me a lot while you hang out with Theo and Ron practices for the chess tourney.”
“And you haven’t been out here alone? Haven’t snuck out while we weren’t looking?”
His smile grew and he threw his arms out. “Can you blame me?”
Hermione just watched him with a fond smile. It wasn’t until they heard murmuring voices and the breaking of branches that they both froze.
“Quick, under the cloak!” Harry whipped out his cloak and wrapped it around them both, wrapping an arm Hermione’s waist to get more comfortable.
They quickly slowed their breathing, being as quiet as possible. “Should we leave?” Hermione whispered in Harry’s ear.
He shook his head slowly. “Might make too much noise.”
They stayed still breathing as silently as possible, though Hermione had to hide a gasp when Professor Quirrell staggered into view, almost tripping over a branch.
“…t-t-to meet here of all places, S-Severus.”
“Would you rather we have this conversation in the middle of the Quidditch match, Quirrell?” Snape’s voice was icy. “After all, the stone is supposed to be a secret from the students.”
Harry and Hermione locked eyes under the cloak.
Quirrell was mumbling, but Snape cut him off. “Exactly how far have you gotten? Have you found out how to get past that beast?”
“Severus, I-I’m sorry—”
“And you still maintain that that blasted troll is your contribution? Even with the spellwork that the Filius and Minerva have performed?”
“W-Well, y-yes—"
“Listen to me. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I do not make a good enemy, Quirinius. Whatever stunt this is, you are putting my reputation at risk, and I will not wait much longer for you to decide where your loyalties lie.”
“B-but I d-don’t—”
“You’re running out of time, Quirrell. And I’m running out of patience. We’ll have another chat soon, assuming the headmaster doesn’t figure your plan out.”
Snape threw his cloak over his head and left a shaking Quirrell standing in the clearing.
A shaking Quirrell who immediately started talking to himself, before whimpering and leaving.
They let out a twin sigh of relief.
“What do you think—?”
Harry shook his head. “Not now. Not here. We’re too close to the centaurs, too far from the edge. We can talk this through later, after the match, in a safe space.”
“Fine. The Nook, after dinner. But we are going to talk about this. That conversation did not reflect well on either professor.”
“Where were you two? You missed George give that Diggory bloke a broken nose worthy of Marcus!” Ron wrapped an arm around his friends.
“After dinner.” Harry dragged Ron towards the Hufflepuff table, Hermione begging off to sit with Daphne and Tracey. “Let’s sit with Justin today, I wanted to ask him something about his campaign to learn more than Hermione about wizarding culture. Nice nose, Diggory.”
A handsome third year stuck out his tongue. “Still won, didn’t I Potter?”
Harry sat across from Justin, who was right next Diggory. “What’s up, Hadrian?”
“Millie let us borrow a book about wand lore. She thinks the three of us should practice using each other’s wands. Thought you might like to look at it too, since you’re working with Neville about his dad’s wand.”
“Oh, cool, cheers!” Justin took the book and immediately opened it.
Diggory leaned forward. “Potter, heard you’re gearing up to be the Slytherin seeker next year? I’m looking forward to playing against you.”
Harry tilted his head. “You shouldn’t be. I’m going to wipe the ground with you. Maybe literally, Marcus says my Wronski Feint is near perfection.”
The look of shock on the third year’s face made Ron break into laughter. Harry only managed to keep a serious face by biting the inside of his cheek.
“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.” Cedric blinked and slid away from the group of first years, just as Hannah and Susan walked up, taking his abandoned seat without hesitating.
Later that night, Ron warmed his hands around an emptying cup of hot chocolate from the tea cart that Tweak kept stocked in the corner.
Hermione and Harry were on either side of the table, theories about trials set by professors, about if Snape knew what was going on with Quirrell, if Quirrell was the one who tried to kill Harry at that first Quidditch match. Neither even noticing how their friend kept sinking deeper and deeper into the couch cushions.
From what Ron could tell, Quirrell was the bad guy. It was always the quiet ones, never the obvious choice.
If Snape had wanted Harry dead, there were plenty of chances. Harry was in his office at least once a week, and it wouldn’t take much for the professor to talk Harry into meeting him in the Forest to collect some potions ingredient.
Quirrell, on the other hand. A noted behavior difference since his year long vacation. Made Harry’s head hurt. Was apparently an expert on trolls, but rumor had it that he fainted from fear when he reported one at Halloween. Nothing made sense about that bloke.
Ron knew that was the conclusion his friends would come to. They just had to argue around whether Snape was acting on behalf of the Slytherins or Dumbledore, whether Quirrell was pulling the strings or if someone else had their sights on the stone.
To Ron, it didn’t matter. They were eleven. They weren’t in a position to deal with the masterminds of plots. It was hard enough stopping the minions. One step at a time, with three possible strategies planned for up to three moves ahead.
But Harry and Hermione tended to think big picture. Beyond the game, looking at the tournament. And Ron figured it was good for them to get this debating nonsense out of their system every now and then.
With his best friends’ argument in the background, Ron placed his cup on the coffee table, pulled his Weasley quilt off the back of the couch, and settled down to nap until they figured out what he already knew.