Toadly Useless
*****
Harry made his way down to breakfast for the first day of classes and tried not to sigh yet again. The morning had already been eventful, with successfully sneaking Regulus into the Chamber ridiculously early in the morning, Seamus calling him a liar to his face, and Ron almost hexing their yearmate in retaliation. Only a quick spell from Harry and a reminder of the lies the Prophet was spouting kept the short-tempered redhead from following through with the lessons he’d been receiving from Artair. Or digging into the lessons he’d learned living with the twins for years. Harry hadn’t quite thought about what his best mate getting guard training would entail but hexing or pranking one of their oldest friends for his words didn’t quite fall into what he’d expected. He’d have to keep close eye on the redhead in the future and make sure his new, shorter fuse and increased skills didn’t lead to problems. Well, more problems than they were already going to face just being friends and Harry being Harry.
When he got to the Great Hall, though, he took a look at the tables and made a snap decision. Turning to Hermione, he made sure speak as normally as possible but loud enough to carry in the hall.
“’Mione, are there any rules against sitting at other tables?” he asked.
She looked at him suspiciously but seemed to realize what he was doing and beamed before shaking her head and offering a soft ‘no’. Harry beamed right back and marched over to where Malfoy was watching things curiously.
“Merry met, Heir Malfoy,” he greeted, offering a short bow and waiting until the blond returned the greeting. “Mind if I join you all?”
The sudden silence of the entire room had him fighting to keep from squirming, but he held his position and a respectful gaze, digging into the lessons Sirius had drilled into him over the summer in his demented lessons in how to act like the Heir and Lord he was. He refused to call it what Sirius always did, though. Parkinson recovered the fastest.
“Merry met, Heir Potter. Please, do,” she said, sliding a bit on the bench to make space for the raven-haired teen.
“Merry met, Heiress Parkinson. Are my friends welcome as well?” he asked before he moved.
Parkinson stared at him in shock before she nodded. Ron smiled sheepishly and offered his own greeting before taking a seat. Hermione seemed out of her depth, but she repeated the greetings the boys had given before joining Ron, sitting perhaps closer than necessary. Harry could see how uncomfortable she was, though, so didn’t acknowledge it. He would have to ask Arianna if she had any books Hermione could read on pureblood customs, since the witch was always more comfortable when she could read up on a subject. Only a second of thought was spared to the idea of Sirius teaching her as well. That would just not end well. For either of them. So, he just nodded once his friends were settled and then took the freed seat between Parkinson and Malfoy, glad they were seating on the end and he didn’t need to walk far to get to the other side of the table. This would be interesting.
As the hall erupted into noise once again, he quickly dished himself breakfast then scowled at the potion Hermione pushed over to him.
“You know she gave me those to make sure you remembered to take them when required,” Hermione chided gently, nudging it closer.
“Doesn’t mean I like the taste. Especially first thing…” he whined before snatching the vial and downing the nutrient potion quickly. He then made a mad grab for his morning tea, only to have the cup snatched away by Malfoy.
“What was that?” he demanded, eyeing the teen and pointedly holding the cup away from both Harry and his friends.
“Nutrient potion, to make up for my malnutrition I got addressed over the summer,” he answered promptly, unwilling to risk the tentative truce by lying to the blond. And hoping it would prompt the return of his tea. Before the taste settled into his mouth and he’d be forced to taste it the rest of the day.
“And would that have anything to do with why you’re suddenly acting like the Heir you are?” he demanded.
“I didn’t know about that until this summer,” Harry answered, still trying to get his tea back. The taste of that vile potion really clung to his mouth if he didn’t wash it away and he very much didn’t want to tuck into breakfast and have everything tainted. Again. Finally, he managed to snag the cup and take a quick sip.
The stunned silence and frozen Slytherins clued him in to the shock.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” Parkinson demanded, voice lacking the usual snobbish mask.
Harry shuddered at the stunned stares but shook his head. It was something Arianna had suggested, getting in with the Slytherins, if only to minimize pranks and outright attacks on himself this year, but he was suddenly under the impression that it would be beneficial to have them on his side regardless. And if it prevented a few from joining their parents as Death Eaters, all the better. The shock was quickly making way for horrified anger the longer he was silent, though. Yet he was sure none of it was directed at him. He saw a few glance to the head table and even saw one of the Seventh years snag Snape’s attention. When the dungeon bat sighed and made his way to the small patch of red and gold in the sea of green and silver, the rest of the hall fell silent again.
“Problem?” Snape asked curtly.
“We request a full House meeting tonight, with Messers Potter and Weasley and Miss Granger in attendance,” the Seventh year demanded hotly. “It would seem there are many grievances that need addressed, though I will not name them until we have more privacy.”
Snape studied Harry for a moment, as if sensing the larger plot, and then nodded. Harry gulped, not looking forward to the meeting, and made a mental reminder to mirror call Arianna before he stepped foot in the Slytherin house. If Regulus wasn’t in the Chamber, he might have even run to hide there rather than face the House of snakes when not polyjuiced. He was Gryffindor, yes, but even that bravery had limits. At least he wouldn’t be alone.
“Return to your breakfasts, then. As I am partially aware of Potter’s situation, I know for a fact there are more than a few persons who would be extremely annoyed if he missed a meal,” Snape said with an eyeroll before returning to his own meal.
Harry blushed and ducked his head, quickly setting to clearing his plate while stilted conversations started up again. The rest of the meal passed quietly, with Malfoy making an effort not to sneer at them and Parkinson making an effort to at least be civil to Hermione. But it was the efforts of the little Astoria Greengrass that eased most of the tension when she asked Hermione about her favorite part of the wizarding world. Hermione, being Hermione, immediately launched into a lecture about the differences, how much she loved having a spell to do just about anything, and how much she bemoaned using a quill when biros were so much easier to use and didn’t break as easily. It was obvious by the time the Heads of House were handing out schedules that many of the purebloods had never actually talked to a muggleborn for any length of time. Even the more accepting.
It was a situation both Harry and Hermione were quite willing to correct, especially since Ron, despite having been friends with the witch for years, hadn’t ever thought to ask and had been just as clueless as his Slytherin counterparts. And if more than one snake had seemed surprised by Harry’s knowledge, he merely said he was muggle-raised. And ignored the scratching of a quill coming from one of the older years where he suspected a list of questions was being compiled.
When McGonagall finally realized why she had three extra schedules and no student at the Gryffindor table unaccounted for, she made her way to the three lions among snakes.
“It’s refreshing to see you three making trouble in a good way,” she commented, eyeing the Golden Trio with barely contained amusement at the hot flushes that covered all three faces. “I would suggest extreme caution should you sit at other tables in the future,” she warned, eyeing the lingering Slytherins. “While I am not certain of the circumstances, it would behoove you to be cautious of possible retaliation, from either the Gryffindors or the Slytherins should you make it a habit.”
The thinly veiled threat of curses or hexing had Harry gulping and trying frantically to figure out if his Head of House was actually afraid for him or if she was potioned to be wary of Slytherins for no reason. The looks of barely concealed affront from many of the Slytherins was making him concerned for the latter…. Especially since, aside from stealing his tea to get answers, the Slytherins had been nothing but polite, despite how much he’d been an arse to them before.
He could see the Twins coming to the same conclusion from where they stood by the Gryffindor table, obviously listening in and not at all liking what they were hearing. Harry just knew the prediction he’d made over the summer was going to ring true this year. Slytherin House just got a pair of pranking protectors…. Harry himself wasn’t too fond of a good majority of the Slytherins, but he also knew, after the potions, that he’d have to start from scratch with his opinions on most, if not all, of the people he thought he knew. And the Slytherins had already proven he was wrong about most of his views on them. If they continued to act respectful when treated with respect, he would be just as willing to fight for them as he had been against them.
“Also, the Headmaster would like to speak with you,” McGonagall announced, as if she hadn’t just caused a shift in the loyalties of at least three of her lions.
“Would you and Professor Snape please accompany me?” he asked hesitantly.
McGonagall looked shocked for a moment but nodded, eying him carefully.
“Is there anything you need to tell me, Mr. Potter?” she asked gently after a moment.
“Not at the moment,” he admitted. “But maybe soon.”
She studied him a moment then nodded and went in search of her fellow Head.
“Harry,” Hermione muttered warningly.
“I know, but I’m not giving up on her yet,” he argued, ignoring the interested Slytherins trying to be invisible around them. “Go to class. I’ll tell you about it after.”
He gave her a look, trying to convey that if he didn’t, she was to ask and immediately get Arianna on the mirror. She seemed to understand and swore for a moment before nodding and stomping off, dragging Ron with her. Harry noticed the twins lingering at the door to the hall, focused on him and he sighed. There was no way he was going to get the pair to leave him alone for the meeting, but perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing. If anything, the pair could get him off grounds and apparate him immediately to Arianna if things went very poorly.
“Potter?” Malfoy asked warily, having obviously caught the exchange and immediately making some conclusions.
“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered.
“We will be asking about it tonight,” Parkinson warned.
Harry swore but nodded. More and more he was regretting offering the hand of peace to the Slytherins. He was not equipped to deal with their curiosity and he wondered how much it would take to arrange for Sirius to be there and conduct a large scale test on the group…. If anyone should be tested like he had been, it was the Slytherins. Followed closely by the Gryffindors, if he was honest…
The group delayed a few more moments, then nodded and set off to their classes. Once they were gone, Harry met McGonagall and Snape at the door and the three made their way to the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s office. The statue startled them all when it spoke.
“Welcome, young one,” it intoned, before jumping aside without a password.
“That was odd,” McGonagall noted before leading the way in.
Snape and Harry exchanged a glance and Harry could only shrug. He’d have to let Arianna know. He had a feeling Hogwarts was making her preference known and he was only Lord of one of the Founder houses. Arianna was going to cause all kinds of mayhem when she finally made an appearance at the school.
“Minerva? What can I do for you this morning?” Dumbledore called. “Ah, Harry, my boy! So good to see you! Minerva, Severus, you can go. I’m sure you have classes in need of teaching.”
“I asked them to be here, Headmaster,” Harry said sheepishly, trying to remember exactly how he used to act around the man and bury his anger at the potions he used to suffer from. “I had some hard times over the summer and I’m not really comfortable alone with anyone at the moment,” he muttered, trying to look as ‘kicked puppy’ as possible. Or at least that’s how Arianna had described his pout.
“Understandable, my dear boy, but what I have to discuss with you is for you alone,” Dumbledore explained gently.
“And what do you need to discuss with the brat that cannot be heard by two Heads of House, one of which is his own and your own Deputy?” Snape demanded with a sneer.
“Family matters, Severus,” Dumbledore said.
McGonagall scoffed and Harry looked at her in confusion. “The boy doesn’t have family, Albus,” she snapped. “I told you years ago those muggles were the worst kinds of people and if Mr. Potter finally running away didn’t prove it to you, I’m not sure what will. There are no family matters to discuss unless you’re willing to explain his Lordship to him at last.”
Harry stared at her in shock, then shook himself out of it enough to turn to his Headmaster in accusation and anger, of which only part of it was faked.
“Lordship?” he demanded, trying to capitalize on McGonagall’s obvious lead. And curious which lordship he was aware of. After all, he didn’t know if McGonagall had heard him confirm he had taken his Heirship over the summer. “What Lordship?”
“Minerva, we agreed he was not to know until he came of age,” Albus said, the usual grandfatherly twinkle in his eye absent and his face stern as he turned to his Deputy.
“No, you dictated and I said nothing,” she denied, face set in fury. “I kept silent because he had somewhere to go during the summers, since you wouldn’t let him stay here. But from what I’ve been hearing, he stayed with the goblins most of the summer and I will not allow it to happen again as there is a wonderful family home for him to stay at, with caretakers long deprived of his presence.”
Harry couldn’t have planned this meeting better if he tried.
“Minerva, that cannot be allowed,” Dumbledore denied, voice turning hard. “I’ve already spoken with his relatives and they’ve agreed to take him back next summer, if he will spend the winter holidays as well.”
“No!” he cried, letting a bit of desperation and fear leak into his voice. Emotions he didn’t have to fake at all. “Please don’t send me back! I never want to go back! Just like I’ve asked each year! Please!”
He was practically begging by the end and he knew Snape could tell he was seconds from actually panicking, because he instantly stepped in front of him and crouched, putting himself at eye level and studying him closely. Harry knew the man was now aware of his life at the Dursleys, but he seemed genuinely worried for him, even knowing sending him back wasn’t even a possibility. That knowledge didn’t stop Harry’s mind from spiraling into the what ifs and fear at Dumbledore’s political power. Whatever emotion was on his face and in his eyes seemed enough for Snape as the serious potions master nodded. He set a gentle hand on Harry’s knee, careful to broadcast his intention. When Harry still flinched somewhat, Snape’s eyes turned cold in understanding before he smiled gently. Harry could hear McGonagall give a sharp gasp before rounding on the Headmaster accusingly.
“Potter, please go to class and be sure Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger keep an eye on you today,” Snape ordered. Harry nodded and fled the room, oblivious of the shouting match about to start the second he was far enough away.
He barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before he was snatched up by a pair of twin redheads and whisked to the nearest empty classroom. Harry allowed himself to properly panic at the thought of returning to the tender care of his relatives for a few minutes before he gave a shaky laugh and hugged the pair to him closely.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “I don’t know what I would do without the pair of you. But we best get to class.”
Fred and George studied him a moment before nodding and escorting him to his first lesson. It was going to be a long day, he decided as he slid into the empty desk next to Ron, with a muttered apology to the professor. And an even longer mirror call with Arianna when it was done.
He was proven all too right when they finally made their way to Defense that afternoon.
“How much you want to bet she says we’re not using our wands this year?” Harry muttered as they filed in with the Slytherins, all of whom eyed him warily. As if they couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not with his efforts at peace. The Gryffindors seemed to be taking his lead, even if they were just as wary.
Hermione chided him, but Ron seemed to agree and not ten minutes later, as Umbridge was giving her welcoming speech, they were proven right.
“But, Professor, what if we’re attacked? Wouldn’t we need actual, practical practice to respond?” he asked, trying to be as polite as possible and waiting for her to call on him before he spoke up.
“And what occasion are you expecting to be attacked, Mr. Potter? Surely, the halls of Hogwarts are safe,” she said sweetly.
“All due respect, in my experience, not so much,” he denied. “And rarely are attacks expected.”
“Mr. Potter, I will not have you spread your lies in my classroom. You are perfectly safe in this school.”
“What lies? I’m four for four at this point. My first year, my Defense professor was possessed and tried to kill me. My second year, my Defense professor tried to obliviate me and my best mate while accepting that a student would be killed by a basilisk. My third year, granted, was better than most, but he still tried to bite me. He was in a very bad mood, but still. And last year, if you missed the memory that played in Diagon last week, the Defense professor was a Polyjuiced Death Eater that tried to kill me for his Dark Lord, after I’d just been tortured, used for a ritual, and nearly killed by said Dark Lord. And that’s just the DADA professors. There’s also the Cerberus, the Troll, the basilisk, the Dementors, escaped convicts, Dark Lords. I can go on.”
“Detention!” she shrieked and Harry took a moment to realize she would have interrupted earlier, but someone had cast a silencing spell on her. The various snickers seemed to come from both sides of the room and Harry took a moment to wonder at that before he realized she had given him detention the first day back. “And you will cease spreading such lies! You-Know-Who is not back!”
“Professor,” Malfoy argued, staring at him but addressing the pink toad. “I would respectfully disagree, seeing as how the Aurors authenticated the memory that showed last week in Diagon Alley and that many confirm was the Dark Lord threatening Potter.”
Harry stared at the blond in shock but Malfoy only nodded minutely. Then it clicked. Malfoy knew. He believed. And he’d silenced the professor so Harry could give his rant.
“Mr. Malfoy, you will be joining Mr. Potter in detention and ten points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin for telling lies!” she shrieked.
“Well, as fun as this is, it’s obvious I’m not going to learn anything here,” Harry muttered. “I’m leaving. Good luck with the bookwork,” he said, starting to gather his things and ignoring the indignant sputtering of the Ministry spy.
He’d have to arrange with Uncle Graves for private lessons after all. Maybe he could get the twins to coach him on the OWLs before they got overwhelmed with their NEWT revisions. As he was making his way to the door, he was surprised to see both houses following him.
“Um?” he said, eyeing the two groups warily.
“Just because I don’t believe you doesn’t mean I’m sitting in that joke of a class,” Seamus muttered.
“Well, I believe him,” one of the Slytherins muttered. Harry wanted to say it was Zabini, but he didn’t really know the others that well. He’d have to correct that. “And the last thing I want is to enter this war, on either side, unprepared. As much as I hate to say it, Potter’s right that she’ll not teach us anything. I’ve better things to do than make nice with some Ministry spy.”
“And if we were to set up a study group?” Harry offered warily, mind already starting on revisions to the plans they’d thrown around over the summer so as to include more than just the three of them. “Perhaps bring up independent study with the House Heads in place of her class?”
It was an option Arianna had floated at the start of the summer if the new professor proved too inept and they didn’t want the Americans to sneak into Hogwarts, but he’d not actually considered it, hoping that Dumbledore had found someone like Moony. Now, he wished he’d paid more attention beyond the requirements to qualify. Hermione seemed to jump on the idea though.
“And opened it to every House, as a way to engender inter-House cooperation?” she offered.
The Slytherins were eying them carefully, but it was their fellow lions that seemed the most shocked by the offer.
“You do realize they’re future Death Eaters, right?” Lavender asked warily.
“No, what I see is that Hogwarts was recognized by both sides as neutral in the last war and probably will be again and by treating them that way, all we’re doing is proving Voldemort right and gleefully shoving them into his welcoming arms,” Harry argued. He was well used to the flinches at the name at this point, but he was done allowing it to stop him from using the name. Despite the very real possibility that Dumbledore had insisted he use the name to engender fear in those around him and not as a way to normalize it as he’d once thought. After all, being raised away from the Wizarding world, it wasn’t like he was terrified of it like the survivors of the last war due to the trace it had once held that could lead to death if the speaker was found. He’d have to see about getting everyone to understand that the insane man was actually named Tom Riddle. Then the trace wouldn’t matter and his origins as a half-blood might take away some of his support. “I aim to prepare myself and anyone who wants to join me. And if, after all we go through together, at the end of school, you still want to join him, that’s your choice. I have little to no mercy for Death Eaters and I wouldn’t hold back in a battle if we faced each other after becoming friends. But I’m not condemning you before you’ve made that choice.”
Malfoy seemed stunned, but acknowledged the vow with a slight bow.
“I’ve severely underestimated you, Potter,” the Malfoy Heir acknowledged.
“As have I you, Malfoy,” he said, returning the bow as he’d been taught.
“Shall we discuss this at a later time? As you know, we have a detention tonight, after all,” he said with his usual smirk. It was strange to get it in commiseration instead of distain.
“If the toad will let us,” Harry agreed. Then swore. “We’re supposed to talk to the Slytherin House tonight,” he bemoaned.
“We’ll take care of it, Harry,” Ron disagreed. “We can’t tell them everything, but are you ok with us giving them some insight?”
Harry instantly knew Ron was asking if he could tell them about his home life and Harry sighed.
“I’d wanted to tell them myself, after we’d told Gryffindor house…” Harry said.
“We’ll tell Gryffindor house after dinner and meet at the Slytherin entrance after?” Hermione asked. “Surely your detention can’t take that long?”
Harry wavered a moment then nodded.
“If we’re not there, just go ahead and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Hermione nodded and they made their separate ways to their dorms to put their books away before dinner. With leaving the double Defense class only twenty minutes into the lesson, they had more time than expected and Harry wanted to mirror Arianna before he headed down to grab a bite. He had some private lessons to arrange and lesson plans from Moony to steal.
And if that flying thing around the corner was any indication, a prank to avoid.
*****
“Well, Forge, you ready for our first prank of the year?” George asked, gleefully rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
Normally, the pair of them had a prank set to go off the night they arrived, to bring in the new school year with a bang. It was a tradition at this point, but they’d elected, in their last year, to decide to not.
The wary and downright suspicious glares they got from the other seventh years, across all four houses, all night long was well worth the restraint. He’d have to remember that in the future.
But that did not mean they couldn’t still set off a prank in the middle of the next day.
And if it helped remove the scowl their dear soulmate gave off whenever spotted since they’d left him after his meeting with the meddler, well, that was a positive.
“I do believe there were a few good repercussions from learning more about our dear Harry, beloved Gred,” Fred cackled as he worked on tying the last string to the last part of the prank.
“And what have the demons got going?” Peeves snickered as he bounced down the hall.
George exchanged a grin with his twin before acknowledged the poltergeist.
“You’ll see in a mo,” he said with a cheeky grin.
“Finished,” Fred exclaimed.
“Perfect!” George cried with an excited bounce, looking at the map they’d borrowed from Harry. “And no professors in the next three halls. We’ll have to take that passage up to the seventh, but we should be in the clear.”
“Wonderful,” Fred said, turning to Peeves. “Care to assist?”
Peeves studied them a moment and George was worried he’d start shouting, outing them to any listening professors. He’d done it in the past and he knew the poltergeist often exposed students out of bed, either as a laugh or to keep them safe from wandering in the lesser used halls that sometimes still had defensive magics on them. The twins still weren’t sure which. And suspected it could be both.
But the prankster ghost only cackled, turning on his head and staring at them upside down for a moment.
“Peevsie will miss the demon twins,” the poltergeist said with surprising candor. “Let’s make the year the best for pranks!”
George didn’t realize his jaw had dropped until Fred was pushing it closed.
“Sounds like a plan,” Fred answered for them. “Now, release the pixies!”
They as one opened the cages for the no longer stunned pixies, before darting away quickly to avoid the whole group converging on them in retaliation for the small necklaces they all wore, numbering them.
And if the number 13 was just simply not there, well, the searchers would spend hours finding that out.