Halloween
Hermione was not exactly a people person, she was well aware of that - she much preferred books as company. Books were easy to understand, books didn't call her ugly or annoying, books were always honest and only told facts, so books were superior company in her eyes. Of course, she had made attempts to mingle more with other people, but just about every time she did, she found herself on the receiving end of more teasing and bullying, and it only drove home the point that people were horrible. Hogwarts had been her latest attempt at turning over a new leaf, and for once, the results had been slightly better than usually. For the first time in her life, no one teased her for all the weird stuff that tended to happen around her - her magic, as it had turned out. Here, everyone was able to make things float, or turn wigs green - and hilariously enough, almost no one seemed to be willing to learn how to do these things.
Of course, not everyone had that lazy attitude. She had been fortunate to walk into Harry's compartment on the train, because at least he understood her, if maybe only to a degree. He was like her in many regards - a sponge for knowledge, a hard worker and learner and, as she suspected, he too had been at least teased for his magic, if not outright bullied, though he hadn't said much on that matter. Still, Harry was... well, he was odd at times. He had a tendency to just... shut himself in mentally, in a way. He spent quite a lot of time with his thoughts, and Hermione suspected that he led entire conversations on those occasions, if the odd smile or grin she sometimes spotted on him when he thought no one was looking was any indication. He was also eager to prove himself, and pushed himself hard to make that happen, which was a lot, between homework, classes and Quidditch. It was almost as though he was starvingly hungry for any sort of positive recognition - as long as that happened verbally, and not through any corporeal contact. That, he at the very least disliked, if his tenseness whenever someone touched him was any indication.
Most concerningly, he had quite the cynical side to him, she had found - Harry had a deeprooted distrust for authority, especially adults with authority, even if he got on well with the prefects (particularily Percy) and most of the teachers (not counting Professor Snape). He was also prone to making snarky comments, which Hermione would've usually put down as him simply being a boy... but she hesitated to use that label on Harry. His temper was another thing which she'd usually have put down to him simply being a boy, but the way in which it showed itself was... odd. Prior to the incident during Flying, Hermione wouldn't have guessed Harry to be hotheaded, but his attitude towards Malfoy certainly had proven that he was, and that he simply didn't show it like most. If anything, it seemed as though he was prone to simply letting off his steam during those conversations with himself, and on rare occasions, returning insults tenfold towards whoever had send them his way - usually Malfoy.
However, as of late, there had been a change in his attitude - Harry was becoming less patient, his temper shone through more and more, and it was rather easy to irritate him. He didn't lash out or anything (at least not as far as Hermione knew), but it was very obvious that he was really restraining himself. His dislike for physical contact also increased, and again, while he didn't lash out, it was very obvious that he wasn't enjoying being touched by anyone. All these things really had her worried, in many parts because Harry was was one of two friends she had, and because she really didn't want anything to happen that would see him hurt himself - or worse, get himself expelled.
She wasn't the only who noticed, either. One evening, while studying on her own (Harry had already gone to bed), she had accidentally listened in on Percy Weasley talking to another fifth year - Oliver Wood, the Quidditch team captain.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Oliver", Percy had said. "Of course I noticed these things as well, but unless you give me something concrete, my hands are bound."
"You're a prefect, Percy", had been Woods answer. "Your word matters more than mine. Something is very wrong with Harry, and I'm worried for him."
"Worried for him, or worried for your shot at the cup?"
Wood had been angrily silent for a second after that. "That was uncalled for, Percy. Look, I'll be the first to admit that I can be a bit fanatical when it comes to Quidditch - seriously? - but I genuinely care for people beyond their skills on the pitch. You've seen the same things as I, or else, I don't think we'd be having this conversation."
Cue a sigh from the prefect. "Yes, I have, but unless Harry comes to me saying "hey, my relatives are abusive assholes" - oh, please, you've heard me cuss before, close your mouth - there's nothing I can do. I have already voiced some concerns of mine to Professor McGonagall, but all she did was purse her lips and promise me she'd take it up with the headmaster, and nothing's come of it since. So, I really don't know what else to do here."
Wood cursed colorfully. "And I'm guessing Professor Dumbledore simply said the same bloody thing he always says when Harry's whereabouts are questioned. You know, days like these I think that the man has too much on his plate."
Percy didn't disagree, which worried Hermione, considering the prefect usually sang the headmasters praises. "Look, all we can do is keep an eye on the situation", he finally said. "Try to accomodate him as much as possible, and maybe discreetly try to coax something more concrete out of him."
"Won't be easy", Wood had grumbled. "Lad's too sharp for his own good."
"Well, maybe he'll realize we're not all like whoever ruined his picture of authority sooner rather than later." Percy sighed. "Sorry for questioning where your concern for Harry came from earlier."
"Bah, it's alright. Merlin knows I can be a bit fanatical - okay, seriously, quit that look."
Hermione hadn't let on that she had overheard their conversation, but she had made a mental note to approach Percy if she found out anything specific about what was going on at Harrys home - she hoped that Harry would confide in her, since she was closer to him in age, and a girl, and his friend. Unfortunately, by the time All Hallows' Eve came, nothing had changed for the better - if anything, Harry's mood had only worsened, and his fuse shortened. It was painfully visible that he was doing his best to not snap at people, and Hermione struggled to think of a way to let Harry know everything was alright. Books, or at least those books she knew, did not tell her that.
"Wingardium Leviosa!", Harry cast, performing the wand movement Professor Flitwick had demonstrated earlier - to no avail. The feather he was supposed to make float only lifted off the table for a short second, and he suspected this may have only been due to a gust of air. At least his hadn't caught on fire like Seamus' had earlier.
'It's the damndest thing', he complained. 'I just don't get what I'm doing wrong.'
'Neither do I', Tom grumbled. 'Which is mind boggling - that spell is one of the easiest there is.'
'Guess today just isn't my day', Harry glumly thought and sighed in frustration.
Ron, who was seated next to him, picked up on that. "Cheer up, mate", the redhead said with a grin. "Only a bit longer till we get to the feast!"
"Yay", Harry grumbled, clearly not excited about the Halloween Feast this evening - he absolutely loathed that holiday like he did few days. Halloween had been the day his parents had been murdered, Halloween had been the day - at least according to aunt Petunia - the Dursleys had 'taken him in', Halloween had been the day he was always locked in his cupboard extra early while Dudley got to go out collect candy and pelt houses in toilet paper. The fact that these... people... celebrated it like it was some joyous occasion irked him to no end.
Not that Ron caught on to his bad mood. "'Sides, you're not the only one who doesn't get it. No idea why my bloody feather won't float, either." The boy eyed his feather like it was some cat that was threatening to eat his rat - which, considering just how useless and greedy Scabbers usually was, wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.
"Well, that's because you're pronouncing it wrong", Hermione piped up. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, with a long 'gar' and 'o'."
"You do it, then, if you're so clever", Ron complained. Harry simply rolled his eyes at their nonsense.
And naturally, Hermione was not one to pass up a chance to show off. She rolled up her sleeves, pointed her wand at her feather, and said: "Wingardium Leviosa!", pronouncing the words just like she had explained earlier. And of course, her feather began floating and caught the attention of Professor Flitwick.
'...Tom?'
'Yes?'
'Is it possible I simply pronounced it wrong?'
Tom 'blinked'. 'It's about as likely as it is that I misremembered the correct pronounciation', he admitted.
Naturally, Harry tried to cast the charm using Hermiones pronounciation, and found that yes, he had indeed been mispronouncing the spell wrong ever since Tom first told him the incantation. 'Well, that's just typical', he grumbled. 'Ah well, at least we figured it out prior to the exams.'
Unfortunately, not everyone shared that outlook. When the class ended, Ron complained: "It's no wonder she doesn't have any friends. She's a bloody nightmare, with that know-it-all attitude."
Harry felt someone push past him, fast, and when he looked, he saw Hermione running away, face buried in her hands - for the split second in which he saw it, it was very obvious she was crying. He made a move to intercept her, to calm her down, but she took off before he could get as much as a word out.
He turned to Ron, who looked indifferent, and in that moment, the combined annoyance of Halloween and its lead-up broke through. He shoved Ron, hard, so that the other boy stumbled backwards into the wall outside the classroom. "Hey, what gives, mate?", the redhead asked.
"You-- you call me -- you bloody, piggish git!", he let out. "What the hell makes you think it's okay to talk about her like that, huh?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Harry?", Ron asked. "I was just saying it as it is - she's a know-it-all, and she doesn't have any friends."
Harry had never felt so tempted to punch anyone as he had in that moment, and jabbed his finger into Rons chest, hard enough that the boy squeaked in pain. "And you think that makes it okay to talk about her like that? Huh? She was helping you, and you insult her in return, you bloody waste of a human being! If you got your arse out of your own head and maybe started paying a bit more attention, and, God forbid, do your own bloody homework, then maybe you wouldn't be such an absolute joke of a wizard! How's that for saying it as it is?"
"Mr. Potter!", he heard someone say behind him, and when he turned, he found himself faced with.... Professor Flitwick, looking not quite angry, but certainly not pleased, either.
'Oh...oh no, what have I...'
'I think the real question ought to be: what were you willing to do next?'
"Would you please step into my office for a bit?", the short teacher asked. Harry numbly followed him into the classroom, angry at himself for losing his temper in such a public manner, for losing his temper at all, for showing just what a freak he really was...
"Do you want some candy, Mr. Potter?", Professor Flitwick asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He shook his head, unable to meet the professors eyes.
Professor Flitwick sighed. "I have overheard part of your exchange with young Mr. Weasley, and rest assured, I do not appreciate his comments on Ms. Granger any more than you did", he began. "Still, I cannot condone the manner in which you told him off, I hope you understand that."
"Yeah", Harry answered. "I know I messed up, Sir."
"Such is youth, Mr. Potter", Professor Flitwick kindly said. "Though I must ask: are you doing alright?"
The question took Harry by surprise. He couldn't recall the last time a teacher had cared for his wellbeing, let alone asked him about it. Could Flitwick... but no, there was no way he actually cared. He was probably just trying to be nice.
"I'm fine, Sir", he answered. "Just... today's not a great day."
Flitwick nodded, a sad expression on his face. "I understand, Mr. Potter", he said. "I suppose whenever we celebrate what we've won, we forget what we lost in the process." Harry didn't react as he continued: "If you like, I could tell you a bit about your parents. I taught them both during their schooling, and I have very fond memories of them."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe", he glumly said.
Professor Flitwick gave a reassuring smile. "I'll make some time over the weekend, then. And if you don't mind, I'll write an excuse for your next class - it seems to me you have quite a bit to think about, and I think we can both agree that you can afford to miss out once", he said with a mischievous wink.
Harry smiled for the first time since his outburst, even if only tentatively while Professor Flitwick scribbled something on a piece of paper. "And if you ever feel the need to talk, please, do not hesitate to call upon me, even if I am not your head of house. Merlin knows Minerva can seem a bit unapproachable at times", he chuckled.
"I appreciate it, Professor", Harry answered. "Truly."
Flitwick nodded before briefly turning serious again. "Still, like I said, I cannot condone your actions earlier any more than I can condone the words which prompted it. I won't dock points or give out detention, but I must ask that you try to make some peace with young Mr. Weasley - and that you please do not act in the same manner in the future. While I do understand the temptations, violence is never the answer."
Harry smiled, relieved he wasn't in trouble. "Thank you, Sir", he said. "And I won't lose my temper like that again, I promise."
"Superb!", Flitwick said with a smile. "Now then, if you don't mind, I must prepare for the next class. Oh, and Mr. Potter? While I can understand why you may wish not to, I do hope I'll see you at the feast this evening."
Harry nodded, still unsure, but certainly more willing to entertain the possibility.
'Well, that could've gone worse', Tom observed. 'Come on, we might as well use that time to see if I can still find that room on the seventh floor.'
'I wanna check on Hermione first', Harry said. 'But sure, we can go look for that room.'