Love, Like Ghosts: A Glee/Harry Potter Crossover
Pairing: Harry Potter/Dave Karofsky (as well as canon Finn/Rachel, Kurt/Blaine, Sam/Mercedes, Tina/Mike and maybe some hints of Brittany/Santana) I also totally support a Harry-Blaine friendship.
Summary: Pushing for change and left with their ruins of their only magic-based school, the Ministry of Magic passes a law that forces each Hogwarts student still awaiting graduation to spend one year attending a muggle school. Harry finds himself relocated to Lima, Ohio- where the football coach is a former-Auror, the cheerleading coach is absolutely certifiable and blatant discrimination and prejudices thrive in the cut-throat world of high school.
It's there, nestled in the pool of hatred and pettiness that Harry finds Mr. Shuester's Glee Club and finds himself with the dubious task of navigating their tumultuous web of friendships and relationships all while convincing one reformed bully that sometimes a little courage can go a long way.
Spoilers: Content from all seven Harry Potter books as well as all aired episodes of Glee will be used in this story. While this story is set in what would be the 3rd Season of Glee, everything is nothing more than mere speculation on my part. Glee spoilers are so ridiculously inconsistent that trying to follow them is futile.
Notes: This story seems to be picking up something that resembles a plot, if only because my brain wouldn't stop asking me why exactly Harry would even end up in the US and then I had to somehow try and make it work. There's going to have to be some sort of suspension of canon timelines, particularly that of the Harry Potter Universe because the events of all seven books have in fact taken place but Harry is still merely seventeen for a majority of this story. If that really needs an explanation, I'm debating on hitting on the 'age is strange concept for magical folks because they live exceedingly longer lives than muggles' or that the events of Books Six and Seven were condensed into one year. Or Harry's cover story makes it necessary for him to 'legally' be seventeen when he's really eighteen. (Although all that business with the Time-Turners and such in Book Three makes me wonder if Hermione would legally be considered older than her recorded age. Questions, questions and even more questions.)
For: The Plot Bunny Whisper because they asked for a Harry/Dave story and I was hella intrigued.
Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and for picking out any errors I'd missed in the last chapter. Sadly I only have me and my spell-check to run over this thing before I post so any help is greatly appreciated!
Warning: There are homophobic characters in this part and for the rest of the story. Absolutely none of the views of these characters reflect my own. If you find you're sensitive to harsh language or physical/slushie violence, please turn back now.
Love, Like Ghosts
Part Two
Burt Hummel shook his head as he watched his son strip out of his overalls in what would have been Guinness World Record breaking time had anyone actually thought to call the officials.
"I'm finished for the day," Kurt said, more than a bit unnecessarily, "I'm going to hit up the mall with Mercedes, Tina and Rachel for all the back-to-school deals."
"Just be home for dinner," Burt replied wondering exactly what else his kid could buy for school. There couldn't be that much left with just under a week to go and Kurt's somewhat compulsive need to organize everything. "Carole's working early today so she should have a handle on the kitchen tonight."
Kurt smiled, absently fixing an invisible stray hair in his gravity-defying updo. Burt sometimes wondered if his son's hair ever just…moved.
Probably not. He'd seen his boy drown his head in a cloud of toxic hairspray when a single lock seemed to tilt too far to the left or something.
"Don't work too hard and only eat exactly what I've packed in your lunch can," Kurt said sternly, giving him a pointed stare. "Or I'll know."
Burt didn't doubt it, even if his taste buds mourned the whole wheat, fake-turkey sandwich he'd be chewing on in an hour. There was a very good possibility that the prolonged exposure to the chemicals in all those facial creams and hair products had somehow made Kurt a psychic when it came to Burt breaking his heart healthy diet.
Jimmy ambled out of the storage room, wiping dirty hands with an even dirtier rag. "Kurt gone shopping?"
"I'm starting to think he's buying doubles of everything, just to strain my credit card."
Jimmy laughed, full-bellied and loud. "If he didn't work his ass off right beside us damn near every day I'd have accused you of spoiling the boy years ago. My youngest still thinks my job is nothing more than driving out to trim down our money tree every week."
Burt let the response that Jimmy's teenage daughter didn't compare to his damn son die as a familiar 2002 Accord pulled up to the front of the shop. Shannon Beiste stepped out into the bright afternoon sun to greet him with a smile.
"Good afternoon, Coach Beiste," Burt said warmly, eying the car beside her, "that Ford giving you any trouble?"
Beiste shook her head. "Runs like a dream. I'm actually here looking for a car for someone else. Potter, get over here."
A pale, short-looking kid with the kind of hair Kurt would have cried over gave Burt an awkward kind of half-wave. "Hello."
Burt felt his eyebrows jump at the unfamiliar accent. "Yours?"
Beiste laughed, deep and amused. "No way. I'm just housing him. Exchange-student program from a sister school of my own alma mater. Either way I figured this was the best place to get a well cared for second-hand car."
"I have my license and price isn't a problem," Potter added quietly.
Burt gave Beiste a look, wondering if this kid was for real. "We got a few cars hanging around the back of the shop. I make a habit of repairing and restoring the write-offs. Never know when someone might need a cheap, used car around here."
Shouting for Jimmy to keep an eye on the front, Burt tugged on the brim of his pighat and led the unlikely pair out and around the shop.
"I'm still working on the Taurus there- it won't be done for another month or so if I can get the parts in. The Fiesta is done but it's got a lot of miles on it and well, that green is downright ugly."
Potter smiled briefly, looking a bit like he was trying not to. Burt shot Beiste another questioning look- it was the kind of smile he'd seen on Kurt a number of times just last year. Right when he was being bullied by that weird kid who'd suspiciously turned over a new leaf.
Beiste shook her head just enough to let him know that the kid was in good hands before she pointed out at the far side of the lot. "What about the Focus over there. Red's a good colour right?"
Potter eyed the car appreciatively, walking over to touch the glossy paint job Burt had splurged to get done just a few weeks ago. "She's lovely. How much?"
"Well, you'll have to go about getting her insured, certified and emissions tested on your own, so I'd say we'll be fine with an even thousand."
Potter peered into the interior and quietly scoffed at the price. "Double that and maybe I won't feel like I'm stealing from you. The interior is immaculate and the paintjob is brand new. I can afford it."
Burt grinned despite being caught red-handed trying to lowball the price. "You know a thing or two about cars, kid?"
Potter shook his head. "Just what good looks like."
"You might as well let him pay you, Burt," Coach Beiste said, her voice low and amused. "I'm coming to find he's as stubborn as he is well-mannered."
Burt was a pretty stubborn guy himself.
"This your first car?"
Potter nodded, his fingers dancing over the rounded edge of the bonnet. Burt figured it was; the kid didn't act like this whole process was boring like most spoiled teenagers did when their parents dragged them into Burt's shop. "Then it's a one and that's it. Take it or leave it."
Potter hesitated, pressing his lips together in a tight, uncertain line as his fingers came up to fiddle with a pair of thin, wire-rimmed glasses. "I guess I can't exactly force you to up the price. I'll take it."
Coach Beiste clapped a firm hand down on Burt's shoulder, grinning widely. "Let's get the paperwork started. I'll take Potter down to Jack's tomorrow to get the insurance wheel running. I thought you did certifications here?"
Burt nodded. "We do but most people looking to buy a used car want to sell out and look for a cheaper place to certify. I can have Jimmy and Kurt do it tomorrow morning."
Filling out the paperwork had become more of a hassle ever since Kurt and Carole had set up the computer in the front to electronically file away his forms. Between cursing his slow, unsure typing and whacking the side of the monitor whenever it flickered out, Burt learned that not only was the car going to a good kid but that same kid would be in class with Kurt and Finn.
"I'll let it slip at dinner tonight that they're getting a new student," Burt promised, finally finding the 'print' button in the mess of options on his screen. "The whole Glee Club will know by the time I've finished my peas."
Harry- a good, strong name, Burt thought with a grin- tried to flatten one of the more stubborn cowlicks at his crown. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Hummel but I'm sure I'll be fine on my own."
He tried in vain to swipe his debit card, nearly cracking the thing in half when it wouldn't read.
"I think it's a good idea," Coach Beiste said gruffly, giving Harry a measured look. "They're pretty much a mix-mashed band of misfits. I'm sure you'll fit right in."
Whatever joke the two of them seemed to be sharing went right over Burt's somewhat bald head. "Okay, here's your keys and ownership papers. I'll give you the spare when you come and pick her up in the morning. Any time after eleven should be fine."
"Thanks again, Mr. Hummel," Harry said quietly, pocketing the keys and folding the papers into thirds.
"No problem," Burt replied and the whole thing felt a bit clichéd, like all small-town business transactions. "Welcome to Lima, kid."
"Tell Finn to get ready for another hard year if he's planning to keep his spot on the team," Coach Beiste said with a parting wave. "That Evans kid has been training all summer to get his shoulder back in shape."
"Takes more than a good shoulder to be quarterback," Burt called back, at ease with the good natured trash talking. "Finn's got leadership skills."
Jimmy gave him an arch look as they watched the Ford drive off down the street.
"Shut up and get back to work- what's it a crime to be proud of your step-son nowadays or something?"
From: Kurt Hummel
To: Blaine Anderson
02 September 2011- 7:43pm
Were you at my dad's shop today? He's been hinting about there being a new transfer student all evening. Like it's breaking news. xo
From: Blaine Anderson
To: Kurt Hummel
02 September 2011- 7:49pm
No, I've been in Columbus all day. Why would your father even hint at my transfer when he knows that you know about it? x
To: Blaine Anderson
From: Kurt Hummel
02 September 2011- 8:04pm
A strange, subtle show of support for our relationship? If he's not talking about you it must mean we're getting another transfer student. Mysterious…xo (Do you have something against textual hugs?)
To: Kurt Hummel
From: Blaine Anderson
02 September 2011- 8:11pm
Stop trying to psych me out- your dad loves me. ;) I didn't think that transfer students were all that uncommon at McKinley anyway. You'll know all about it in a few days if you have a little patience. xx (I like kisses better? ;D)
To: The Puck Machine
From: Finnessa
02 September 2011- 8:34pm
dude burt said beast found a kid or sumthing
To: Finnessa
From: The Puck Machine
02 September 2011- 9:11pm
like a real kid?
To: The Puck Machine
From: Finnessa
02 September 2011- 9:29pm
yeah. shes a sponsor. Think its like rent 2 own. dude keep ur paw off my phone.
To: Finnessa
From: The Puck Machine
02 September 2011- 10:01pm
no stupid. its like a charity adoption or sumting. shell giv him back when he gradu8s. ] even ur phone knows Ima stud.
The square brick that was William McKinley High School loomed in the distance as Harry slid the Ford Focus into the nearest available parking spot. Furthest from the school, nearest to the exit- the best means of escape possible.
High school still seemed like a foreign concept, even with the undeniable proof that this would be where Harry would spend the next ten months.
He wasn't nervous- he wasn't. Harry was just a naturally cautious person, the trait ingrained into him from seven years sitting at the very top of a dark wizard's hit-list.
The caution was warranted and had worked pretty well for him this far.
"Constant vigilance," Harry muttered pulling the sleeves of his jacket more securely over the wand holster strapped to his right forearm. Beiste had tried to talk him out of wearing his wand on his person but Harry knew the kind of troubles a stray wand clanking around in a knapsack could cause and that every present cautionfrom the war made him feel antsy without its familiar weight.
The walk across the parking lot felt like an eternity crossing a particularly nasty circle of hell as a group of freshmen girls giggled and tittered in his direction. Anxious fingers tried in vain to flatten the fringe of hair falling haphazardly over his forehead, the gesture born out of a nervous habit of trying to hide the lightning bolt scar over his right brow.
The temptation to use magical means to hide the scar from sight had been nearly overwhelming but Harry had known from previous experience that glamour charms- while handy for reasons of pure vanity- were a hassle to keep consistent.
He'd settle for awkward, probing questions that could be deterred with a snappy "mind your own business" than ones that asked "why's your face look so weird?" anyway.
Groups of teens loitered all around the side and main entrances, trying to sneak a morning smoke or hugging steaming cups of coffee with bleary expressions. A few of the older students gave Harry a second glance but most of the school's populace seemed particularly uninterested in the stranger walking their grounds.
Coming up along a wire fence Harry caught a flash of red and white sports jackets before he heard a startled male voice yelp in outraged surprise.
"Look, it's the fag's boyfriend," a large dark skinned boy taunted, holding tightly onto the arms of a curly-haired teen who was not much taller than Harry himself. "Why don't we teach him his proper place here at McKinley?"
A loud blast of malicious snickering followed.
The top of the dumpster was thrown open.
Harry's whole body went cold at the impossible idea. Surely they weren't going to toss the other teen in the dumpster? Someone would stop them.
When another lanky red-jacketed teen grabbed onto the guy's legs, Harry resigned himself to being the one who would have to stop them.
A quick squeeze of his hand released his wand from its holster. Seeker-quick fingers brushed the tip as Harry brought up his right hand and wordlessly flipped the lid of the dumpsters closed again, adding a hefty weight charm for good measure.
The fumbling goons seemed to freeze at the sound of the dumpster top slamming down, still holding their prey in the obviously perfected form for a dumpster toss.
"Dude, it's just the fucking wind- lift it back up before Karofsky and Lopez show up," the dark-skinned teen snapped. The guy in his hands seemed to wince as they tightened their grip on his arms and legs.
"It won't open, man," another large-looking teen spat back, struggling against the magically weighted lid. Harry wondered for a brief moment if the pair of them had any giants in their family trees.
"Hello," he said cheerfully, stepping out and around the edge of the nearest dumpster. "I'm new here- I was wondering if someone might show me the way to the admissions office?"
"Scram, midget," the fourth red-jacket snarled, spraying spittle from his lips as he spoke, "does it look like we care?"
Taking in the matching jackets and stereotypical 'roid rage' expressions on the guys' faces, Harry figured they were on a team of some sort together. 'Jocks' as one might say.
He missed the days when being a jock simply meant you played quidditch and knew what a quaffle was.
The guy who had been struggling with the dumpster lid took a step back and with a snarling curse sent a vicious kick at its metal frame and Harry was suddenly reminded of Crabbe and Goyle- big, hulking bullies with less than a whole brain between them.
Peering out around the two jocks holding the teen they'd intended to toss in the trash, Harry gave him a small smile. "Do you think you could help me find the office if these morons unhanded you?"
The hesitant look of relief on his face nearly made Harry give the Muggle Secrecy Act the finger and give these trolls a scorching case of boils.
It didn't take much to figure out that the jackets seemed to be the thing of power at this school. Other students glanced in the direction of the dumpsters, taking in Harry, the trapped guy and the group of jocks before they averted their eyes and hurried away. The psychology behind it was disturbingly like the Death Eater's masks and their tradition of leaving a Dark Mark hovering over whenever they'd struck.
With another wordless spell, Harry watched impassively as the seams in each boy's coveted red and white jacket split, falling apart around them.
The guy strung out between the two biggest jocks dropped to the asphalt with a painful thump and quickly rolled towards Harry who pulled him to his feet.
"Well boys, I'd say it's been fun but you seem to be having an embarrassing clothing issue and I really have to get to that office," Harry said, wrapping a his free hand around the other guy's elbow and dragging him back towards the school.
A quick flick of his fingers pushed his wand back up into its holster just as they reached the double doors of the main entrance and the group of dumbfounded jocks disappeared from sight.
"That was- how did you-" The now rescued teen seemed to be at a loss for words, looking back between Harry and the doors.
"That was really awesome timing, wasn't it?" Harry agreed absently, still pulling the two of them along. "I truly need to know where the office is. Perhaps you can report the incident there?"
That seemed to pull the guy out of his awe and drop him firmly into bitter scepticism. "Maybe at my old school. The administration here could really care less. They'd even go so far as to say that I was asking for it."
Harry shot him a questioning look. He wasn't sure anyone would ask to be tossed in a dumpster that probably hadn't been emptied properly since June.
The guy seemed to hesitate, his eyes darting around the hallways quickly before something made him straighten his shoulders and proclaim, "I'm gay."
Harry waited for the revelation, for the actual reason why a group of deplorable goons jacked up on performance-enhancing medication and dressed in tacky jackets would want to throw him out like trash.
Homosexuality was apparently it if the other teen's expectant silence was anything to go by.
Homophobia. Wonderful. Harry really had to wonder what it was with societies and their need to torture, demean and outcast any number of people who didn't fit into what they saw as perfect or normal.
"That's a shit reason to pick on you," Harry replied, taking in the tense set of the teen's shoulders and the way he seemed to be expecting Harry to drag him back the way they'd come and throw him in the dumpsters himself. "I was hoping for something a little more exciting."
Relief was a physical weight melting of the other guy's shoulders as he seemed to realize that Harry could care less who he was attracted to- boys, girls, veelas, or hippogriffs- and quickly stuck out his hand. "Blaine Anderson."
Harry grinned at him. "Harry Potter."
"I'm going to hazard a guess and say that you're the other transfer student that my boyfriend has been obsessing over for the last five days," Blaine said casually, taking a small shove to the shoulder with ease as the hallways grew crowded.
Harry frowned at the retreating girl for a moment before answering. "I suppose I am-" he stopped for a moment, remembering Blaine's earlier words. "You're transferring in this year? Even with those gigantic tosspots outside?"
Blaine gave him a small, sheepish smile. "Yes. I- I suppose you can say people in love do foolish things. I had been hoping that with two out and proud people to pick on, the bullies would be spread too thin to get us both."
Harry's eyebrows twitched upward at the very idea. "Well. Mission accomplished then. Unless there's another group of neanderthals somewhere, giving your boyfriend a toss?"
Blaine shook his head, pulling Harry down the left-hand corridor. "No- we were supposed to meet out front and walk in together but they were halfway to school before Finn realized he'd forgotten his backpack."
Harry was proud of the way he kept from making a quip about this Finn guy's apparent intelligence as they rounded another corner and Blaine presented him the office door with a flourish.
"I hope we have a few classes together," Blaine said quickly, as the secretary hurried them in and pointed Blaine towards what had to be the headmaster's- principal, Harry mentally corrected- office. "And thanks for back there."
Harry waved him off, settling into the uncomfortable, twisty-shaped chair. "No problem. Really."
Feeling brash and a bit rebellious, he looked up and out at the crowded hallway, catching sight of the now jacket-less jocks sulking down the corridor. Harry waited until they'd all caught sight of him sitting in the principal's office before giving them a large smile and overly-enthusiastic wave.
Committing social suicide had never felt so good.
"And where exactly is your uniform?"
Dave Karofsky turned away from his locker at the sound of Santana Lopez' sly voice.
"Seriously? I thought we disbanded The Bullywhips after you didn't win Prom Queen."
Santana snorted, fixing her beret as it slipped a little to the right. "Please, like I'd let the close-minded rednecks and backwoods Barbies of this hellhole tell me I'm not social royalty. Besides, this is like, totally principal-approved bullying if you think about it. Our word is law."
Dave rolled his eyes. "Our word was nothing, Santana. They still got to Kurt and they took me out to get to him. You think we're going to make this place gay-friendly before we graduate? Are you really that dumb?"
Santana's eyes narrowed dangerously, reminding Dave of a Discovery Channel documentary he'd seen on rattlesnakes and how calm they'd get just before they'd strike.
Santana Lopez was definitely a rattlesnake in a red satin jacket.
"Listen up, Manimal," she said soft and sure, "the two of us may not be stepping out of any shiny, sequined closets any time soon but there are at least two people that we know who have and maybe we can make this year a little easier for them."
Dave glanced around the hallway quickly, keeping a close eye out for Jewfro and his damn microphone. "Look, I've already apologized to Kurt- what more do you want?"
Santana shoved him up against the locker, getting close like they were about to make-out or something as she whispered fiercely, "Coward ain't cute, Dumbo. We want to get any kind of rep back we need to be firm on this. If the sheep in these halls won't respect us, they better learn to fear us."
She pulled back, her eyes dark and bright in the crummy fluorescent lighting. "Unless you want to go back to the total dicksmack you were before, because I know I'm a bitch- I straight up own it- but that doesn't mean I like it."
Dave had to wonder what it was about girls that made them so confusing- Kurt never seemed to have any trouble understanding Jones or even that loud Berry chick who'd tried to kick him in the face when Beiste had forced them all to join Glee.
It damn well figured that if Dave couldn't be straight, he'd just be a piss poor gay dude too.
"Fine," he finally muttered, trying to remember where in the hell he'd chucked the Bullywhips jacket after the whole Prom mess last year, "but I'm telling you now it's not going to help. Berry and Chang have already got their first slushie to the face."
"Chang-Chang or Cohen-Chang?" Santana asked, securing her walkie-talkie to her belt.
Dave frowned. "Who the hell is Cohen-Chang?"
She waved a hand at him, giving the students around them a hard glare. "Have you talked to Azimio yet?"
Dave turned away from the open hallway, his throat tight and burning. "Z's not too happy with me. Haven't seen the guy all summer."
Another down side to this whole damn thing. Azimio had been one of his closest friends ever since middle school. Now he talked smack about Dave and seemed to be getting on good without him.
"Good, he's an asshole," Santana said firmly, propping one hand on her hip. "You might want to stay away from him for now anyway. He's totally out for blood."
Dave frowned. "Who in the hell would piss him off this early in the school year? Don't you gleeks know any better by now?"
"Word is that a couple jocks got their letterman jackets trashed when they tried to dumpster toss Kurt's Polly Pocket-sized boyfriend," Santana said with a shrug. "If it was one of the gleeks I'm totally taking them to Breadstix."
Dave made a face- he'd come to know her breadstick obsession even before they'd started fake dating. It was as epic as it was frightening.
Brittany waved at them absently as she and the geeky-looking wheelchair kid rolled up the hallway, her long legs hooked over the side of his chair. Santana's return smile was tight and forced and Dave knew that feeling, just a little.
"Hey," he said, deep and awkward, "that other thing? We still good?"
"I'm totally a better beard than you," Santana snapped and if her eyes were a bit wetter than usual, a bit darker, Dave knew better than to mention it.
The meeting with Principal Figgins had been enlightening, to say the least.
Harry found the man distasteful and weak-willed, lacking any allusion of authority over the school when a tall, blond woman dressed in a bright red and white tracksuit had barged into the office and started ranting about how the Glee Club was ruining today's youth.
She'd also told Harry to hurry on back to the Shire, which was not only offensive but horribly inaccurate.
"Lord of the Rings was filmed in New Zealand," Harry informed her curtly, "I'm British."
He didn't stick around to see what exactly she'd have made of that. He was terrifyingly reminded of Professor Snape for some reason.
Homeroom had been done and over with by the time he found himself outside of the office, if Harry's schedule was to be believed. His first class of the day would be English in room 205.
With a late slip in his hand, Harry politely knocked on the door and waited for the teacher to call him in.
Hopefully he'd have to forgo a typical new kid introduction with every class. McKinley was big enough that a transfer student would make some news but certainly not enough to warrant a full-on public punishment of having Harry speak in public.
He sincerely hoped so.
Lunch period at McKinley High School was both welcomed and feared by most of its population.
On one hand, it was lunch, which generally meant inhaling some form of sustenance and not having to listen to Mr. Shuester fumble his way through second period Spanish.
On the other, far heavier hand, lunch period was the one hour Kurt Hummel feared for his wardrobe the most. Between the slushie machine, today's rank-looking Tuna Surprise and the wilted, browning lettuce that came with calorie-toting ranch dressing and ready-to-burst cheery tomatoes, the lunchroom was a war zone full of projectile mines just waiting to blow up and splatter his McQueen and Marc Jacobs with stain-inducing squishy things.
Thankfully the heat seemed to be on someone else for a change and Kurt found himself insatiably curious as to who could have pissed off the Puckheads and Football jocks any more than Kurt did by merely existing.
Mercedes was, for once, completely out of the gossip ring.
"All I know is that Azimio is pissed because his jacket got shredded but no one saw what happened or who did it," she said down the table, her eyes peering out over the rest of the lunchroom.
"Just to set the record straight, it wasn't anyone from the Glee club, right?" Sam asked, eying each of his friends. "We need to know who we're relocating if word gets out."
Everyone shook their head, or in Brittany's case wrote her answer on her napkin in ketchup, and the mystery grew.
"A few of the Cheerios tried to start a rumour that Finn had gotten back at Adams for ripping his jacket up last year," Quinn informed them, sliding into place next to Tina and across from Mercedes. "Santana and I nipped that one in the bud quickly."
"Yes, I can verify that Finn was nowhere near the school at that time because I vividly remembering having to drive him back home," Kurt said with a glare in his step-brother's direction.
"Dude, I forgot my bag- it's not like I tried to wash your laundry for you," Finn said, spreading his hands out as if to ask "what more do you want?"
Kurt sniffed. "As if I'd let you near our laundry after you machine-washed my dry-clean only Versace blazer."
"Where's Blaine?" Tina asked in the lull, as Finn sulked and Artie tried to find a way to make their table wheelchair accessible. "I thought he started today too."
Kurt shook his iPhone at her, looking concerned. "I was supposed to meet him this morning and make sure he got to Principal Figgins without harm but I couldn't find him by the time we'd gotten back from picking up Frankenteen's books."
"Check out the lunch line, man," Mike pointed out with the tip of his fork. "He looks like he's trying to decide if the 'surprise' in the Tuna Surprise is Salmonella or gut rot."
"I think this is the perfect time to talk about Nationals," Rachel said, sudden and loud. "I for one would not like to graduate without the banner of National Show Choir Champion on my transcript."
"We haven't even made Sectionals yet," Mercedes pointed out, sharing an interestingly secretive look with Sam. Kurt made a note to grill his girl on that little development right after he tackled Rachel's obsessive need to overachieve above his own rather high standards.
"It's never too early to start dreaming big," Rachel told her sternly, "If we keep writing our own songs and work on our dance moves I think we can take the title this year. We have to."
"No pressure," Quinn said with a perfect eye roll. "Hello, Blaine."
Kurt couldn't help but smile at his boyfriend's acceptance into his group of friends. He'd worked out an amazing summer schedule that made sure all of his girlfriends had perfect mani/pedi/shopping time while Kurt found whole days to spend lazing around with Blaine.
If by 'lazing around' Kurt really meant 'getting as naked as they were comfortable with and making out all the time'.
"Oh God, I feel like it's been weeks since you texted me," Blaine said, gripping Kurt's hand in his own for a moment. "Is McKinley always like this?"
"What happened?" Kurt felt his shoulders tighten and draw up at the idea of anything like his old bullying happening to Blaine. "I thought I saw Santana in her Bullywhips jacket when I got in this morning."
"Some jocks were going to throw me in a dumpster," Blaine said, still outraged at the very idea. "I tried to reason with them-" Kurt really hoped that McKinley wouldn't beat the optimism out of his kind-hearted boyfriend before they graduated- "but well, you know how well that was received the first time."
"That's not right, man" Sam said with a massive frown, "someone can seriously get hurt if they get thrown in an empty dumpster."
Kurt laid a gentle hand on the places he knew would be bruised, especially on Blaine's first toss. "Are you hurt?"
Blaine shook his head, eyes wide and excited as he turned towards the rest of the gleeks. "No, I don't know how it happened but the lid was blown down before they could throw me in and jammed, maybe. Before they could get it open again Harry was there."
"Harry?" Kurt asked, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
"The wizard?" Brittany asked, quite seriously. Everyone ignored her.
"The new transfer student your father was talking about," Blaine said patiently, his grin wide and easy. "I really don't know what he was hoping to accomplish all alone but thankfully the jocks were too distracted by their jackets falling apart to stop us from making a clean getaway."
"It was magic," Brittany said with a nod, going back to playing with her fork and spoon. "Do you think I'll get any sporks if I make my fork marry my spoon?"
"Wait a minute, Prep School Boy," Mercedes said, holding up a hand as if to physically stop Blaine's words. "Are you telling me the new kid didn't do a damn thing to Azimio and his jerk friends? Nothing at all?"
Blaine laughed in disbelief. "How could he have taken down four football players, destroyed their letterman jackets and escaped alive? He's actually shorter than I am."
"Magic," Brittany insisted.
"Why would he save you?" Quinn asked, smoothing back her shorter locks and giving Brittany another fork to add to her game. "Not that he shouldn't have but helping you or Kurt is pretty much a one-way ticket to an eternity of being a Lima Loser in these halls."
"He didn't care,' Blaine said, looking right at Kurt. "I told him upfront that I was gay when he asked by they'd want to dumpster me and he just, well I think he was annoyed on my behalf."
It took an actual effort to keep his jaw from dropping. "How has no one met this guy yet?"
Mike and Artie shared a guilty look.
"He's kind of in our AP Maths class," Artie said with a frown. "I feel kind of bad for totally zoning out when Mrs. Pearson introduced him."
"He didn't look all that interesting," Mike added when Tina jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
Whatever else that might have been revealed about Blaine's mysteriously noble saviour was deterred by Noah Puckerman's sly shit-eating grin.
"Holy shit, some dweeb just took a massive multi-slushie attack from Azimio right now," he said, sliding onto the bench beside Quinn. "It looks like a gay unicorn threw up out there."
Kurt, Tina, Rachel and Artie winced in sympathy. They were the most targeted for slushie facials- besides Jewfro and his creepy mouth-breathing- and Kurt had already packed three spare outfits in his Navigator for himself and one on the off chance that Blaine was hit more than once.
He doubted a new student would have the forethought to do the same.
"Do you know which way he went?" Kurt asked, pushing away his disgusting salad, grabbing his carrier bag with his other hand. Blaine followed suit, trying to wash out the taste of his own salad with a lukewarm bottle of water.
Puck shrugged. "Last I saw he was down the hall there. I think Santana might have shoved him into the girls' washroom before she started kicking ass. Where're the two of you going?"
Blaine gave him a small, approving smile as Kurt said, "to help."
Harry looked around the toilet with stinging, watery eyes.
Of all the ways he'd envisioned the jocks getting their revenge- and a few of them were ridiculously impossible given that none of them were supposed to even know magic existed- getting assaulted by crushed ice and high fructose corn syrup had not made the list.
At all.
Sneaking a peek at the bathroom door, Harry slipped his wand back into his palm and began vanishing the sticky, melting ice seeping into his clothes. His hair was, for once, plastered tightly to his skull and certainly not up for any kind of magical cleansing.
Passably clean, Harry took a moment to return his wand to its holster and remove his glasses before he dunked his head under the faucet and began rinsing the tacky mess out of his hair.
The bathroom door swung open behind him.
"Nice ass, Jeeves."
Harry turned his head to the right, letting the water puddle in his ear. The girl in the red satin jacket- the one who'd all but shoved him into the bathroom after the chilled beverage attack- was eying his ass with a lewd, appreciative smile.
Even with blurry eyes, something about the whole scene felt too heavy, as if the girl was forcing the smirk on her lips for him.
"Thanks for getting me out of there," Harry said faintly, his voice warped and echoing from the bathroom walls and the running water. "I was beginning to think that no one would help."
She huffed at him, tossing her dark, gleaming hair behind her shoulder. "Don't cry, elfling. It's like, my job to make sure the overjuiced morons that make up our sports teams get taken down a peg or twelve."
She adjusted her bright red beret and jacket pointedly.
Harry straightened up, squeezing the water out of his hair as he tried to read the words on the jacket's crest. "The Bullywhips?"
"We kick the ass of anyone who thinks picking on dweebs and losers is cool," she said, obviously not catching the irony in her calling the victims of bullying 'dweebs' and 'losers'. "Well, we get to hand them in for detentions and shit. I'm totally the founder."
"Congratulations."
"So what'd you do to piss of Azimio Adams and his steroid-ridden horde of mouth-breathers?" She asked, eying the water Harry could feel sliding down the back of his neck.
He shrugged, hitting the paper towel dispenser with his elbow. "If I had to guess I'd say it's a toss up between interrupting them at the dumpsters this morning or witnessing the destruction of their shoddy jackets."
The radio went off on the girl's hip, making her jump. "Santana, where the hell are you? The hall's a freaking mess."
Santana raised her eyebrows and looked around the toilet as if to ask Harry if it was okay to reveal their location.
"This isn't my first time in a girl' toilet," he said archly and left it at that.
"Kinky," she said in reply before picking up her radio. "Karofsky, I'm going to escort the target to his next class. Keep up patrolling, Esera Tuaolo."
"You're such a bitch, Santana," the radio hissed once more before going silent.
She rolled her eyes and gestured for Harry to hurry up. "He says that like it's a bad thing."
"Does everything you say have to sound like a come on?" Harry asked Santana, frowning.
"Why- you want it to?"
She was certainly pretty enough, anyone could see that, but there was a hint of exhaustion in the way she leered at him and Harry knew her heart wasn't in it.
"I think I'll pass."
"Your loss, Pippin," Santana said with a bored drawl. "Come on, what's your next class?"
"AP Chemistry," Harry said with a frown. He'd tested high in both science and maths that summer, much to Hermione's distress. All her years of practising with Arithmancy and Potions had made her rather apt at Bio-Chemistry and Algebra though.
"Look at you," Santana said, peering out into the hallway, "brains and….well, I'm sure running from the jocks at this school will give you a little muscle at some point."
"You're just naturally offensive, aren't you." Harry said, not needing to question it.
To be honest, he found her general dislike of everyone around her to be entertaining, if not a bit sad.
"If you have to ask I'm totally not doing my job right," Santana said airily as they walked side-by-side down the corridor.
AP Chemistry would have been amazing, had Harry not been acutely aware of the guy with the mohawk staring at the side of his head.
He would have been willing to chalk it up to his growing paranoia from the earlier slushie attack had the other teen not meet his gaze more than once and smirked, flexing his arms.
Harry figured it was either primitive flirting or some not-so-subtle threatening gesture.
As the chemistry professor lazily waved his hand at the class in general, informing them that the partners they chose today would be with them for the rest of the year, Harry resigned himself to being forced into a partnership with the strange, frizzy-haired kid everyone seemed to be avoiding.
No one ever wanted to partner with the freakish new kid either, which was why the large hand clapping down over the back of his jacket was a sudden surprise.
"We're partners," the mohawked guy said, raising an eyebrow as Harry tried to jerk out of his hold.
"I think not."
"I don't remember asking you a question, dude," the guy said before hauling Harry out of his seat and dragging him over to his lab station. "Name's Puck. You're the dork who got slushied in the hall at lunch."
"I usually just go by Harry," he said, straightening his jacket with a frown.
Puck nodded. "That's cool. Look, Dobson's a pretty lax teacher if you know what I mean. I've been getting As in his classes for the last three years because everyone does their final reports on stupid shit like magnesium and water- flashy but childish. Dobson likes explosions, just like me. You got a problem with explosions?"
"Not particularly," Harry replied, his irritation at being dragged from his seat slowly draining at Puck's easy slouch. The guy looked like the poster child for troubled teens but his comfort-level in the middle of what Harry knew to be an advanced science class spoke otherwise.
"Awesome," Puck said taking two copies of that year's project outline from the frizzy-haired kid that seemed to have no partner. "So, word on the street is that you stopped Kurt's boy from taking a dumpster to the face. You making a move on him or something?"
Harry signed his name at the top of his copy of the project outline and tried not to grit his teeth too hard. The irritation was making a comeback. "I was just trying to be a decent human being- something most people in this school seem to have trouble with."
"So you're not gay?" Puck asked, looking ridiculously suspicious.
"No, I'm not," he said briskly. Had Puck asked if Harry was into men, well that would have been a different thing entirely. He had no qualms with misleading the guy who looked like he could kill Harry with a well-placed finger flick.
"Whatever, it's not like I care or anything but some of the gleeks are looking for drama. I had to listen to a bunch of shit about a gay-love triangle so, you know, don't be a triangle."
"I'll try not to," Harry said slowly, feeling a bit like the lone island of sanity in a hurricane of crazy. "Seeing as I'm a person and not a geometric shape."
Puck ignored him to stare happily at the locked cabinets full of chemicals. "Let's blow something up."
Harry's last class of the day was relatively uneventful.
Besides appreciating the form of the tall teen who'd been wearing the same jacket/beret combo has Santana while he'd broken up a fight between what appeared to be two jocks, Geography was utterly boring.
However, the blond cheerleader who honestly seemed to think that the capital of Greenland was Santa's Workshop seemed to hint at this class not being a total waste of time and attention.
It was with a vague sense of foreboding that the last bell of the day rang and everyone began to pack up and head for the door. Harry knew how this would work- the jocks he'd somehow grievously wronged that morning only had one more chance to redeem themselves before the drama of today would be yesterday's new.
If they were going to strike big, after school would be the perfect time.
Harry hovered silently inside the classroom as the teacher packed up his gradebook and what seemed like a dozen other trivial knickknacks before he headed to the door and finally acknowledged Harry's presence. "I'm locking the door, just pull it closed when you leave."
He nodded, waiting impatiently until finally he could stuff his binders into his knapsack and sneak over to the corner of the classroom not easily seen from the doorway.
Generally, spellwork around muggles was frowned upon, especially if it gave the wizard or witch in question too much of an edge. Harry had allowed the American Ministry Officials to blanket him with an anti-cheating spell and a monitoring spell that would tell them if Harry was using harmful magic against muggles. Considering that he'd wrecked the jackets of four non-magic folk that very morning, Harry figured a few Notice-Me-Not charms wouldn't be fussed over.
The halls were still noisy and crowded as students loitered around their lockers, laughing and making after-school plans. Harry skirted around a group of hooting jocks defacing a sign-up poster pinned to the announcement board with shiny, golden stars.
Harry wanted desperately to say something, anything to pull their attention away from someone's hard work but while he'd generally straddled the line between courage and stupidity on a good day at Hogwarts, this was his first day of high school. His own character and morals refused to let him just let bullying and discrimination pass but that didn't mean that Harry had to actively seek it out.
The main entrance was a short walk from the parking lot and thankfully jock-free as Harry calmly walked down the cement pathway and around the hedges towards his car and freedom. The Notice-Me-Not charm seemed to work almost too well as the eyes of his schoolmates slid past him with practiced ease.
The tense, expectant feeling of just waiting for something to happen didn't let up until Harry popped the locks on his car and slid in behind the wheel. Safety. All he had to do was make it home where he could decompress alone. Coach Beiste had mentioned that she would be holding try-outs for McKinley's football team all week just that morning when Harry had accepted her invitation to share breakfast.
Alone sounded like heaven after spending nearly seven hours with the loud, under-deodorized mass of teens that inhabited his school.
With a heavy sigh, Harry leaned back against the seat and wondered how he could have possibly thought that American High School would be boring.
Notes: This part ended up being double that of the first, much to my horror. Thankfully I won't be writing each day Harry goes to class because that would get tedious and boring very quickly. I hope the Glee characters aren't too out of character either. I support the strange friendship of Santana and Dave because they totally rocked out at Prom together and no one went after him when he left the gym. He obviously needs a good close friend that isn't a raging homophobe.
Thanks for reading and if there are any questions, leave them in a review and I'll get back to you, I promise. I really enjoy talking with people who share my interest in both Glee and Harry Potter.
