Chapter 12
Madam Pomfrey placed two potions on Boy’s dinner tray. He recognized the anti-inflammatory one, but he didn’t know what the second phial contained. For one thing, it was more than twice the standard size. The other difference was that the phial was made with a dark blue glass.
“What’s this one?” He asked her, pointing to the strange phial.
“For anyone else’s ears, it’s a vitamin supplement.”
“And for my ears?”
“Two ounces of Professor Snape’s blood.” She answered quietly, despite being the only two people in the room. “Until your overall health straightens up, you’ll need to take it with every meal. After you feel better, you’ll only need it once per day.”
The thought of drinking blood, anyone’s blood was nauseating. “I really don’t want to drink that.”
She took a seat on the edge of his bed. “How about this? If I take the stopper off the bottle, and you still don’t like the idea, we’ll figure something else out. Alright?”
Biting his lip, Boy reluctantly agreed. There was no way that… that… oh, wow. “Smells so good,” he said, utterly captivated in an instant. His stomach growled fiercely. There was a sharp sting in his upper jaw, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Hands shaking, he reached out for the phial. So warm. Without a second thought, he upended the little bottle into his mouth. And groaned. It was the most incredible thing he’d ever tasted. The rich, sweet taste exploded on his tongue and seared down his throat and settled in his belly, sending pleasurable tingles throughout every inch of his body.
Dizzily falling back into his pillow, he gigged. “Am I vibrating?” He giggled more at his silly question. Of course he was vibrating! He could feel it! “Are you vibrating too?”
Trying to hold back her own laughter, she just nodded.
“S’nice, is’nit?” His bones felt like goo and he didn’t care one whit. He could happily spend his life as a noodle-y pile of… well, noodles. “Noodle-y,” he mumbled, giggling harder at the odd word. “Noodle-y noodle-y noodle-y nooneld-noodelity-noonles… what was I sayin’?”
“You were saying how sleepy you are,” Madam Pomfrey lied, using a cough to hide the chuckle that slipped out.
Boy’s eyes lit up suddenly and he smiled broadly. “Hiiiiii guys!”
Madam Pomfrey giggled, turned to see the three Ravenclaw girls, then went to her office.
“Uh… heyyyy, Kitten?” Olive said, unsure. “What’s going on?”
“Oh!” Boy gasped loudly. “Penny! ‘Melia! I haves real bad news. I can’t marry you!”
“Yeah?” Amelia asked, playing along. “Why’s that, Kitten?”
Penny just smirked.
“Purfess’r Snake says I’m a somohex- no, a hosumexsh- he says I’m gay too.” Boy was struggling with his words, but it was okay. The floaty feeling was too nice for him to care.
“Is that so? Well, if Professor Snake says it, it must be true.” Penny snorted. “Hey! If it is, that could be why he was allowed into our dorms. What do you think, Buh-Harry? Am I on to something?”
“C’mere,” he whispered loudly, his arm flopping as he tried to wave her over. “I hab a secret. Did you know my name isn’ Buh-Harry?”
“Oh?” Penny bit the inside of her cheek. “So, what is it?”
“‘M Boy,” he said with a little yawn. “‘M not Harry either. Sir says I can’t tell no one, but yur nice. You won’ tell no one. Did you know my middle ‘nitial is E? D’you know what it means?”
Penny’s urge to laugh tapered off somewhat. “No, I don’t. What does the E stand for?”
“Dunno,” he shrugged. “It w’s on my letter.”
Amelia put her hand on Penny’s shoulder to stop her from commenting. “Hey, um… Boy? Who is Sir?”
Boy rubbed his nose. “Jamie’s daddy. Always wan’ed a mummy and daddy.”
“But you’re Jamie’s brother,” Amelia said, hoping to gain some clarity. “Doesn’t that make them your parents too?”
He started to shake his head, but it made him dizzy. “Nuh-uh. ‘M not ‘llowed to call ‘em that. They don’ like me. Said ‘m d’seased an’ bad. Can I have a b’rthday, ‘Melia?”
Amelia, Olive and Penny exchanged worried looks.
Olive nudged Penny with her elbow and glanced toward the matron’s office door. “We all want extra birthdays, Kitten. Sorry, but I think you’ll have to wait for it like the rest of us.”
He pouted. “D’you know when it is?”
“Sure, I do,” Olive replied. Everyone knew when the Boy-Who-Lived was born. It was practically a holiday.
“C’n you tell me?” He begged, his eyes slightly out of focus.
At that, Amelia almost smiled, but the look on his face… "You're serious, aren't you? Harry, do you really not know when your birthday is?"
"'M not 'llowed to ask queshins," he slurred, his eyelids drooping. "Queshins is bad."
Olive covered her mouth, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
"I pray that it's his medicine talking," Madam Pomfrey whispered softly, having approached with Penny just a moment earlier. "Will one of you go fetch Professor Snape?"
"'Fess'r Snake is'n so scary," Boy said groggily, finally losing the battle against sleep.
Groping around, Boy felt the plushy fur of his doggy. He wanted to lay with his doggy, but the bed was too small. Pushing some magic into the bed, he felt it expand and patted the spot in front of him. "C'm on," he mumbled sleepily.
"I see you've finally woken."
Boy's eyes snapped open. "Um, hello, sir?"
Professor Snape uncrossed his legs and re-crossed them the other way. "I was requested to test your coherency and reflexes now that you have begun to take proper care of yourself."
Ignoring the jab, Boy rubbed his eyes and sat up.
Bear wiggled around to slip between his back and the wall.
Absently, Boy patted his doggy. "What do you need me to do, sir?"
Professor Snape tested his reflexes by sending gentle pulses of magic to his joints and wrote something on his parchment.
"Are you able to tell me the current date?"
"I think so," he said honestly. "I've been sleeping a lot, but it should be either the sixth or seventh of January."
"Acceptable,” the man said with a sharp nod. “So you are aware, it is the seventh. Next question, as simple as the first. What is your full name?"
Boy. "Harry Potter. Did I have some kind of reaction to the… vitamins?"
"Mostly incoherent babbling," the professor said dismissively. "How old are you?"
"Eleven," he replied automatically.
"What is your first class on Wednesdays?"
"I haven't got my new timetable, sir. For last term, it was Herbology."
"And your birthday?" Snape asked, keeping his gaze locked firmly on the parchment.
"What about it?" Boy asked, his heart racing. What was he going to do? How was he supposed to explain not knowing that?!
"When is it, Potter?" The man scowled, scribbling more notes.
"Same time as last year." Talking back was going to get him into trouble, but being in trouble with Professor Snape would be much safer than being in trouble with Sir.
Unimpressed, he continued taking notes. "And finally, what would you say if I told you that I was removing you from your position as seeker?"
Boy gasped, tears filling his emerald green eyes. "I… yes, sir." He wrapped his arms around his middle. Why was that the first punishment he came up with? Why not detention? Or a point loss?
When he sniffled, the professor looked at him suspiciously. "What? Not going to beg or shout? Your brother would."
"No, Professor," his chin quivered slightly. "I won't argue. It's your decision, and I have to accept that."
"Very well," the man said, letting his parchment roll up. "I have enough information to go on. The practice schedule has changed since last term. You will find an updated version in the common room."
Wait, what? "Sir? I don't understand."
"You have not been removed. I simply needed to gauge your emotional responses." He went to Madam Pomfrey's office without another word.
What kind of test was that?! That was a horrible trick! Threatening to take away one of the only things that made him happy?!
Since he was alone in the infirmary, he didn’t bother with his fake wand. He cast a listening charm at her door.
“-your evidence.” That was Professor Snape. “It is enough to warrant the scan, and I will back your decision. Or would you rather I do it myself?”
He wasn’t being mean, even if it sounded like it.
What scan? Better still, what evidence? And what was the evidence?
“I wanted to believe it was the blood,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice replied, sounding close to tears. “For Merlin’s sake, he asked if I was vibrating! I thought he was just high from the blood, saying all those things!”
“Blood?” Penny asked. “What blood?”
Wait, Penny was in there? Why was she there?
“It does not matter, Miss Clearwater.” Professor Snape said impatiently. “What matters now is getting him scanned, and if necessary, healed. Should that be the case, the next step would be to have him removed from his current placement.”
Boy was unable to figure out what they meant. Current placement? Here? Was he going to be removed from the fifth year? Were they going to make him leave? Even after telling him he could stay? They couldn’t! They promised!
Amelia’s shaky voice pulled him back to reality.
“Where would he go? They’re the last of the Potter line. What’s to say the next people wouldn’t hurt him?”
“If this is what it looks like, would you be able to take him in, Severus?” Madam Pomfrey asked.
“It would be impossible. If certain information came to light, my motives for doing so would be called into question. There would be a very real chance I would face incarceration.”
“What information, Professor?” Olive squeaked out.
Geez! She was there too?! Who was next? Percy? Flint?
“Whether you become privy to such things will depend entirely on Mr. Potter.” There was an air of finality to those words, making Boy all the more confused.
“You know what?” Penny asked. “I don’t give a damn. I just want to know if my little Buh-Harry is okay.”
He wanted to assure her that he wasn’t sick anymore, but he couldn’t let them know he was spying.
“We have only until the end of the school year to find a suitable candidate for custody, should it come to that. Though, what little time I spoke with him, it is more than possible. Glossing over subpar responses, I was able to ascertain through his weak attempt at deflection, that he does not seem to know his birth date. That alone would be enough to warrant the scan, as would his reaction when it was first mentioned. Not to mention his emotional response to unrealistic punishment.”
“Wait, you punished him?! For what?!” Amelia shouted. “He hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“That is an appropriate response. Indignation, anger. What Mr. Potter offered was simply resigned acceptance. He did not argue, shout, or even question my reasoning. While clearly saddened, he merely agreed and told me that it was not his place to question adults. That behavior was ingrained into him through years of conditioning. The illusion that all adults are always right is not the typical mindset of an eleven year old. All children, at one point or another, will verbally spar with authority figures, be they parents, older relatives, caregivers or indeed teachers. I find it nearly impossible to believe that Mr. Potter has ever told an elder the word ‘no’ unless answering a direct question.”
Of course he didn’t. Children were supposed to obey adults. That’s just how it worked. Right? Besides, there were lots of kids who listened to adults, surely.
“Does that mean Jamie is treated badly too?” Olive asked.
There was a snort.
“Not necessarily. In fact, I very highly doubt it.” It was Professor Snape again. Apparently he really liked to talk. “From what I have witnessed, the Brat-Who-Lived is every bit the arrogant, spoiled little prince. An exact replica of his father.”
“Severus!” Madam Pomfrey chided him. “He’s just a boy.”
“Who was clearly not raised under the impression that it was his name. Or, have you already forgotten the fact that while Potter Jr.’s birthday is covered by the press nearly every year? When was his twin mentioned? I, myself, incorrectly assumed that he was either a distant relative or that his name was a coincidence. Do you recall the major headlines of the Daily Prophet the day after the holiday break began? ‘The Boy Who Lived, Excited for Holidays’. ‘Potter Parents Proud of Precious Progeny’. At what point did any of that drivel mention the ‘other Potter child’?”
“Alright! You’ve made your point.”
Boy cut off the spell. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Why was Professor Snape so angry? It just didn’t make sense. Jamie was talked about in the papers because he was special. Boy wasn’t special. Boy didn’t save the world. Jamie did that. Jamie was a good son. Sir and Ma’am often said so. The perfect son. Boy couldn’t blame them for favoring him. He was, after all, diseased. Jamie didn’t have any diseases.
Boy surprised himself. Was that his disease? Being a Vílaupír? Did they know? Was that why they didn’t like him? And if so, why didn’t they ever tell him? He could have understood, honest.
Now, because of that, they wanted to scan him for- oh no.
“Bear!” He whispered frantically.
The Wyhound picked up his head.
“We need to go back to our room, now!” Boy scrambled off the bed, wincing as his feet touched the cold floor.
Sensing his urgency, Bear hopped down and crouched so Boy could climb on his back. It was well after curfew, so hopefully the Slytherins were in bed.
To his immense shock, rather than start down the stairs, Bear shook out his wings and jumped. His stomach lurched as they began to plummet.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tightened his grip on his doggy’s neck. At some point, the descent slowed and they bobbed in place. Boy refused to open his eyes again until Bear landed.
He was pleased to note that he was directly in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room. He cast the disillusion charm and snuck inside. Thankfully, the area was deserted.
For the next few days, Boy was able to avoid being in close contact with everyone, including his friends. Sure, he saw them in class, but he sat in the very back of all his classes while they were in their usual places at the front.
He could tell that they were hurt by his actions, but they had been conspiring against him! How could they do that to him? What had he done to them, that was so horrible, that they would go behind his back like that? He was perfectly right to be angry. See, Professor Snape? He could be angry! Was it an appropriate emotional response now? Professor Snape had attempted to pull him aside at least a dozen times, but he made sure to be in a position for a quick escape any time he saw the bitter man.
The anger lasted four days. It might have lasted longer, but he was too wrung out to care anymore. He had even stopped participating in class. Make no mistake, he was still doing the work, though he made no extra effort as he usually did. The other professors had obviously noticed, and were worried. Twice in Charms, he blatantly ignored questions that were directed at him. He was too busy scribbling in his book to keep himself awake.
On the fourth night, he collapsed in the library. He had felt Bear licking and nudging him, but he could do nothing about it as he fell under.
Something cool touched his eyelid and pulled it open. He winced as a bright light was dragged slowly across his line of sight. When he swatted at the light, his hand barely lifted off the linen.
“Congratulations are in order, Potter. You’ve officially surpassed the previous record of the number of visits by a single student within one school year.”
Boy tried to reply to Professor Snape, but his throat was on fire to the point that breathing deeply hurt. It took a minute to lift his arm, and eventually he was able to tap on his throat. His arm flopped uselessly off to the side when he was finished.
His eyes opened as the professor put his arm back on the bed.
The head of the bed was elevated and a straw was placed between his lips.
At that point, Boy didn’t care if it was poison. If it helped douse the flames, he’d gladly drink anything. It was water. He drank greedily before the straw was pinched.
“If you drink too quickly, you will make yourself ill.” Professor Snape warned, then let go of the straw.
Forcing himself to sip, he actually looked at the man in front of him. The professor was paler than normal and he had bruise colored bags under his eyes.
“You sick?” He rasped weakly.
“No, Mr. Potter, I am not ill.” The man said, putting the water glass on the bedside table. “But you should be interested to know that I have made another… vitamin donation. Given your predisposition for self-neglect, you will partake in your meals here until the more… telling effects of your vitamins fade to a manageable level.”
Ignoring the Erumpent in the room, Boy sighed. “What effects?” Gods, his throat hurt.
“You deemed fit to begin spilling troubling secrets to your friends.”
He gasped, eyes wide. “What did I say?” His heart rate picked up significantly and he could feel his breaths shorten.
“Miss Clearwater mentioned your lack of knowledge of personal information. Miss Odoa added her worry regarding the relationship between yourself and the rest of the Potter clan, and Miss Elison simply cried.”
Cried? “Olive doesn’t cry,” he mumbled, feeling guilty.
“For the record,” the man continued. “Your name is Harry Evan Potter, and you were born on July 31, 1981.”
Boy could only gape as tears slid down his face. The knot that had been building in his stomach tightened significantly. He let his eyes fall closed and held his cramping belly.
“As you have gone without the proper nutrients for an extended period of time, and having only been introduced to it once, I will feed you in a more traditional manner. Keep in mind that I am only doing this because you are in serious need. You will be back to phials after this morning.”
Boy didn’t know what he meant, but he didn’t care. At this point, he was pretty sure that his stomach was content to eat itself. He was startled when a bare wrist was presented under his nose.
“We do not have all day, Mr. Potter.” He said impatiently.
When Boy made no move to grab his wrist, he jabbed the prominent blue vein with a little silver dagger.
Not bothering to ask where the dagger had come from, he let instinct take over and snatched the barely bleeding wrist and sank his teeth into the soft flesh. He didn’t care that he had suddenly sprouted fangs, or that they were currently embedded in his professor’s arm. What he cared about, all he cared about, was the delicious, intoxicating flavor of the thick liquid as it coated his tongue.
“Enough,”
But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. It was so richly addictive and he never wanted to stop.
“I said enough, blasted boy-”
At that, Boy jerked back, dropping his professor’s wrist. He immediately averted his gaze and curled in on himself, mumbling frantic apologies and begging for forgiveness.
“Severus!” Madam Pomfrey said, appearing out of nowhere. “What have you done to yourself?”
"My job, Poppy, and nothing more or less."
Madam Pomfrey cried out as the man slumped to the side, toppling out of his chair, unconscious.
Professor Snape had not said a word about what happened in the infirmary, though Madam Pomfrey did tell him that the professor had collapsed due to blood loss. It had taken over an hour for her to convince Boy that he was not at fault.
"It was his own silliness that put him in harm's way, not yours." She had said, seeing Boy's upset at the situation.
It hadn't even occurred to him that he wouldn't be at fault. Of course he was. Professor Snape became ill because of him. Even though he was fine after a few potions, it didn't detract from the fact that Boy caused him problems.
"Potter," Professor Snape barked as Boy headed back to his seat two days later. "You will remain behind after class."
Boy's steps faltered. He nodded and continued to the too-tall stool at his table. Putting one hand on Bear's back and the other on the tabletop, he pushed upward.
As the rest of the class dissipated, he simply folded his hands together in his lap and waited. There was no telling what the professor wanted to speak to him about.
Staring at his hands, Boy didn't notice that his friends had stayed behind as well. Until Penny pulled him off the stool and into a hug.
"What are you doing, Penny?" Boy asked, bewildered. "Aren't you upset with me?"
"Course not, Buh-Harry," she said immediately. "We all want to help you."
"Why?"
"Contrary to popular belief," the professor began, rising from his seat. "I am not a heartless bastard. While you may be content to hide from your problems, I am not content to watch you do so."
"What problem, sir?" Boy asked timidly, still not letting himself return Penny's embrace.
Sighing, the professor cast a silencing charm around the door.
Boy's eyes widened in fear. What was he doing?! "Sir?" He squeaked out, gripping the edge of the table.
"Do not worry, Mr. Potter," the man said calmly, holding his hands up. "We bear you no ill will."
"We're worried about you, Kitten." Amelia confessed.
Olive nodded vehemently. "That's all, we promise."
"Why?" He asked again. "I'm not sick anymore." What were they so worried about?
There was a tension in the air, keeping them silent.
"Harry," Penny said, breaking the silence. "We know you're not sick, but Professor Snape needs to run a full history medical scan on you."
“That’s against the rules!” Boy said loudly. He clamped his jaw shut as soon as the words left his mouth.
“Not when there is legitimate cause for concern, Mr. Potter.”
Boy couldn’t help but feel betrayed as Bear plodded over to the professor and nuzzled him.
“While I would appreciate your consent in this matter,” the man continued, scratching Bear’s ears absently. “It is not a requirement. The safety of the students in this school is the responsibility of the staff from September to June. As it is January, that responsibility falls to myself and Madam Pomfrey.”
“And us!” The three Ravenclaw girls shouted together.
Boy jumped at the harsh sound, immediately feeling foolish. His friends weren’t going to hurt him and he knew it.
“Sorry, Buh-Harry,” Penny said, still not letting go.
Olive and Amelia also apologized.
“How about this, Kitten?” Amelia suggested. “I’ll even have the test done too. Just to show you how it’s done. Maybe after, we’ll get you one of those lollies. Don’t even make a face either. We know you liked them. I still have some in my bag.”
“The last thing Mr. Potter needs are sweets, Miss Odoa,” Professor Snape said, exasperated.
Olive huffed. “Honestly, Professor. One little blood lolly is hardly going to-”
Professor Snape held up his hand, effectively cutting her off. “Blood candy? You’ve been giving a child blood candy?”
“It was an accident at first. What’s the big deal?” Penny asked.
“Explain yourselves immediately.” He snapped.
“Kitten helps us study,” Amelia replied with a shrug. “And we heard he’d never had sweets before, so we’d let him try different kinds while we studied. When we were picking out things at Honeydukes, I grabbed an assortment box and there were a few kinds of blood chocolates. He seemed to like them, so we got more.”
“Oh, no,” Olive gasped. “Is that what made him sick?!”
For the first time during the ping-pong match of a conversation, Boy spoke up. “No, Olive. Besides, I’m not even sick any...more…” His voice trailed off and he stared at his professor in horror. “Is-is that why I-I’ve turned into a-a thing?!”
“That would be my own assumption, yes.” He replied, ever the statue. “It very well may be the cause of your premature transformation.”
“What transformation, Kitten?” Olive asked uneasily.
“Back to the matter at hand,” he cut in tersely. “This examination needs to be performed. Will you consent, Mr. Potter?”
Even if he didn’t agree, Professor Snape had already said that he would do the scan without permission. He was caught. There was no way to stop what was about to happen, no matter what he wanted.
Tears filling his eyes, Boy nodded, keeping his gaze on the floor.
He couldn’t bring himself to look up even when the man began to chant. It was melodic, he noted as his feet started to tingle. The odd sensation slowly crept upwards until it was all-encompassing.
Feeling slightly dizzy, he grabbed Penny and put his free hand on the table to steady himself.
“Whoa there,” she said, holding tighter. “Someone get him a chair.”
Boy looked up as Professor Snape whipped out his wand and turned one of the stools into a shorter chair with a high back.
“What the fuck?” Professor Snape asked breathlessly. “This can’t be possible.”
Stunned by his language, the girls pounced on him, demanding information.
Holding onto a long sheet of parchment, the professor paled as he scanned over its contents. “How are you still alive, let alone functioning?”
How was he supposed to answer that?
“Professor?” Penny questioned cautiously.
But Professor Snape didn’t appear to have heard her.
“Sir?” Boy asked timidly, with a sniffle. “Could we go to class now?”
“I think, Mr. Potter,” he began, tearing his eyes away from the parchment. “That you may benefit from an afternoon to yourselves. Miss Elison, if you could post a notice cancelling my classes for the day, I will speak with the appropriate channels regarding this… consternating nightmare of a report.”
Bear perked up, licking the professor’s face like crazy as Olive did as asked.
“Your appreciation is duly noted, dog. Now, get down.” The professor’s words were harsh, but for once, there was no real venom.
Boy flexed his hands and Bear trotted over to him. “Wait! Professor, I nearly forgot. Can you make sure Cuddles is okay too?”
Professor Snape lifted a brow, but said nothing as he cast spells on the Wyhound. After a minute or two, he declared that everything was fine, and that they needed to go.
Amelia promptly scooped Boy up and held him fast against her chest. “Let’s go find an empty classroom, Kitten.” With one arm under his bum and the other across his back, Boy just went with it, draping himself limply over her frame.
Not that he would say anything, but he loved being carried, especially like that. No one had carried him like that before, and it was nice. Comfy.
Halfway there, Boy felt something knock into his back.
“Watch it!” Amelia snarled.
Picking his head up off her shoulder, Boy looked at whoever annoyed his friend. For the briefest of seconds, he thought he was seeing double.
“Sorry about-”
“That, lovely Miss-”
“Ravenclaw. And little-”
“Snakey, of course.”
“Why aren’t you two in class?” Penny asked, slipping into ‘scary prefect mode’.
“Well, actually,” one began, scratching his chin. “We saw you coming this way, and we wanted to ask the little Boy Genius something.”
“Hey, Penelope!” Olive said, impressed. “You got one of the Weasley twins to speak in full sentences!”
“We just like to mess with people, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” The other twin said flippantly.
“Drives our mum spare,” the first one added with a chuckle. “Anyway, Mr. Boy Genius, can we have a moment?”
Still being held, Boy nodded. “Sure. We’re only going down the corridor to… ‘Melia, can you turn a bit? I can’t see where we’re at.”
When she did, he pointed at an abandoned classroom a few doors down. It was the same room he’d made his ‘wand’ in, and he liked to go there pretty frequently.
“Alright,” Boy said, expecting to be put down. He was mistaken. “What will it be for today? Last time, ‘Melia picked, so it’s Olive’s turn, I think.”
“Umm, well, super fluffy is a given. How about… white with rainbow cheetah spots? No! Black with rainbow cheetah spots!”
Boy smiled and wriggled the ‘wand’ out of his pocket.
The Weasley twins watched in astonishment as the broken furniture piled up in the middle of the room and turned into a massive U-shaped couch of plain shades of wood brown, then into sherpa-style upholstery with the requested pattern.
Looking around, Boy froze. His hidden set up was uncovered. The table in the back corner held his cauldron (which he’d mail-ordered before getting Bear) and all of his potion ingredients/tools. Even the small stack of books was partially uncovered.
“Don’t worry,” one of them said quickly. “We didn’t actually touch anything, aside from the covering. That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about.”
“Well, one of the things.” The other said, biting his lip.
Sighing, Boy looked at them and Bear licked their hands in turn. “Alright, ‘Melia. I need to get down.”
“Says who?” She snorted. “Hold tight.”
He could only watch in amusement as Amelia shifted both of his legs to the same side and took a seat. He was sitting on her lap side-saddle.
Olive sat in front of him and Penny behind, all on one side of the couch, leaving the twins to sit by themselves on the other side.
“Well,” Boy bit his lip. “Um, I’m Harry, which you already seem to know somehow... Who are you?”
Their eyes widened in surprise. “We’re Fred and George Weasley.” One said for the pair.
“So… which one’s which?” Boy wondered aloud.
They gaped at each other.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever asked us that,” the second admitted. “I’m George, so I suppose that means he’s Fred.”
“Hi, Fred. Hi, George,” he replied, leaning into Amelia. “What did you need to talk about?”
“We know who you are, clearly, but you’re not quite what we expected.” Fred said honestly. “Anyway, er, we wanted to ask you for help. See, we want to open up a joke shop, but we have a problem…”
“Will you tutor us?” George asked bluntly.
“Oh!” Boy replied, startled. “Couldn’t someone in your house help? I’m not saying no, just… why me?”
“Because you’re a genius,” Fred stated, as if it were obvious. “And, you might not have noticed, but we Gryphs aren’t usually known for our geniuses.”
“Percy is your brother, isn’t he?” Boy asked. “He’s second in our year, and I already heard him admit you two are brilliant with you pranks.”
They were shocked.
“He said that?” George asked, almost sadly, but shook his head. “We can’t ask him. We clash too much. He’d have to go see Madam Pomfrey to regrow all of his hair within an hour.”
Penny snorted. “That’d be nice to see. We’d finally get to see how big his head really is.”
Boy just rolled his eyes. “You said there were a couple of things you wanted to talk about, right? What else?”
Fred pointed toward Boy’s potion set-up. “We were hoping to have you brew a few things for us, like burn salves and bruise balms and-”
“Why?” He asked immediately. There was a specific reason for brewing that stuff for himself, but they couldn’t have the same problem as him! Could they?
George had to force away his grin. “Some of our experiments don’t exactly go to plan, and there have been some explosions-”
“Tiny things, really. Barely count as explosions.” Fred added casually.
“But we have gotten… a bit battered by them.” George finished sheepishly.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he considered it.
“Before you decide,” George began awkwardly. “We can’t… we can’t pay you.”
“But we’re willing to offer you favors in return for any help you can give us.” Fred continued quickly.
“As Kitten’s self-named managers,” Olive started, putting her nose up. “We would need to discuss the terms of these favors before he can agree to anything.”
Stifling a giggle in his sleeve, he watched them curiously.
“Kitten?” They asked in unison.
Boy fished a pair of the kitty ears out of his pocket and put it on. It might not be the manliest thing to wear (or be called) but he didn’t care. His friends dubbed him Kitten, and they liked him. Plus, he loved the way they doted on him. It was really nice. These ears were black with Slytherin-esque polkadots. “They tried ‘Pretty Kitty’, but that was a bit much.”
“Is not!” Olive argued. “You’re just so cute and snuggly, like a pretty little kitty.”
“See?” He asked the twins, rolling his eyes.
They laughed goodnaturedly.
The chime signalling the end of class sounded.
“Can we meet up later?” George asked. “This was the only free period we have for today.”
Agreeing, Boy told them to come back after their last class of the day.
The twins hopped up and gave an exaggerated bow. “Ladies, Kitten, we bid you a good day.”
He waved at them and yawned.
Penny told him that they could talk later, and promised to wake him for lunch.
Stretching out across their laps, Boy fell into a confused, but content sleep.