The Revised Chronicles of
Those-Who-Lived
Chapter Two:
After that first Potions class, Harry was happy that he wouldn't have to see the Slytherins again that week. When the notice went up about flying lessons with the hated house, he nearly threw his book across the room. Neville hauled him into his seat and glared.
"Harry, what are you getting upset for? You're a natural at flying; you could get steamrollered by Malfoy and hold onto your broom, for Merlin's sake!"
"Yeah, and you'll fall off five minutes in if Malfoy so much as puffs air your way! You think I want to see you fall anymore than I want to see Malfoy's face, period?" And chances were, he'd end up near Prince and Prince would try to knock him off.
Neville cuffed the back of his head. "I'm not that bad."
Harry sank into the chair and muttered, "Close."
Neville snickered and didn't argue with that.
At three-thirty, they marched outside with the rest of their year's Gryffindors to the lawn opposite the Forbidden Forest. The Slytherins were already arranged in two lines by the brooms: whether it was fate, or just luck, Harry found himself directly opposite Prince, with Neville just to his right facing Zabini. On Neville's far side, across from Hermione, was a small dark blond boy Harry thought was Theodore Nott. While he had probably seen him before, the boy was exceptionally good at disappearing at any Ministry functions they were at. Harry could sympathize: Leopold Nott, his father, frightened him and he didn't have to live with the man.
At the very least, Malfoy was on the opposite end of the line from Prince. Madam Hooch glared between the two Slytherins before starting the lesson with calling the broom to your hand. Harry didn't even have to say 'up' – he'd done it for so many years he just looked at the broom and it jumped to his hand. So did Prince's; Zabini spoke. Nott, however, didn't even get his broom to move: Hermione and he both were struggling to get it to obey. Neville leaned over and began to talk Hermione through it – he probably remembered his own father coaching him through it when he didn't even believe he had magic. Harry left him to it. Neville was better at that than he was.
Glancing back across the row, Prince caught his eye and smiled slightly. He looked almost friendly. Harry glared and the smile changed into an insufferable grin that he desperately wished he could wipe off Prince's face.
Hooch moved on, getting them to mount their brooms, placing their grip, and then she went to the end of the line and ordered them to kick off. It went smoothly... sort of. Hermione had gotten into the air fine, but she was shaking so hard she couldn't come back down and was slowly but steadily rising. Neville brought his broom back up next to her and smiled. Harry nearly swore when he leaned over to grab her broom.
"You just tip it down, see?"
She smiled weakly at him, but the broom slipped. Neville lost his grip, swung over and under his own broom. He held on with one hand for a second, and then dropped fifteen feet to the ground.
He landed with a crack and a shout of pain. Harry dropped next to him, but Madam Hooch rushed over just as quickly, looking him over.
"My ankle…" Neville whimpered. "Gah, my ankle."
Furious, Harry punched his shoulder. "What were you thinking?"
"Enough!" Madam Hooch cut off Neville's angry reply. "You will leave him be, Mr Potter." She helped Neville to his feet, bracing him so he didn't have to put any weight on his leg. "None of you are to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch!' Come on, dear."
Harry watched them go, and then turned back to Hermione who was standing at the end of the line, hands over her mouth in horror. Harry waved her over; she ran to him and buried her face in his shoulder. Awkwardly, he patted her back, but before he could say anything, Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Hah! You'd think that stupid brat would stop trying to fly after the first dozen times he fell off his broom! What kind of oaf thinks they know enough to help someone else? Served him right, falling off again!"
Harry turned, one arm around Hermione's shoulders and glared. "Just because you don't think it's worth it to be nice doesn't make you look smart mocking someone else for it! Neville's ten times the wizard you are, Malfoy! Isn't that why you'd never say that to his face?"
Malfoy's face went bright pink, and he stalked up the line, stopping several feet away when Harry brought his hand to his waist where his wand was. "Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered. "You say you're so good. How about a duel? Tonight. The Trophy Room. Bring Neville. Let's see who wins."
Harry smiled coldly. "You won't even show up, Malfoy. Why should I even bother?" He ignored it when Hermione stepped away from him and turned to face Malfoy dead on.
"Trying to get out of it already?" The blond sneered.
"Who's the Slytherin here?"
"Potter! Malfoy! Step away from each other immediately!"
Harry stepped back quickly on hearing Professor McGonagall's voice, returning to his place in line. Malfoy also swaggered away. The Transfiguration teacher glared at them, but nobody said a word about what they'd been talking about. She remained until Madam Hooch returned to continue the class. Malfoy didn't say anything else to Harry during the class, but Prince and Hermione wouldn't stop watching him with interest.
On the way to supper, Hermione stepped up to him and demanded, "What were you thinking, accepting that? You'd better not be planning to get into trouble! He really will-"
"Set me up?" Harry stared at her. "Do you think I'm stupid? Of course he's going to. I'm not going. He probably won't even mention it."
Hermione settled onto a seat across from him and smiled. "Good."
Harry just rolled his eyes.
IIII
Harry made sure he arrived at Potions on time the next morning. Sitting with Neville across from Prince and Zabini, he wondered who would get a third partner this time around. Then again, if the arguing was any indication, Prince might just go off on his own.
"-getting lost there twice, finding a three-headed dog, and nearly getting disembowelled by Filch, aren't you the least bit concerned?" Zabini was saying. "If Quirrell hadn't been going by, you'd have seriously been in detention! With Filch! He's terrible!"
"I think I can take care of myself, Blaise!" Prince said. "I concede you know your way better than me, so fine. I'm sticking with you, aren't I?" He turned and double-checked something on the desk before adding, "And there is just something wrong about Quirrell showing up then, too."
"You said yourself you had a splitting headache." Zabini pointed out. "That would make anything feel wrong."
Prince shrugged, but Harry didn't hear more. Malfoy strutted in and, passing the desk Harry was at, he paused.
"You know what? You're a coward, Potter. You backed out!" He grinned. "You never showed up last night."
Harry felt a flush start, but he'd been sure Malfoy wouldn't-
"How in the world do you know that, Malfoy?" Prince cut in. "You never left the common room. Hell, you were in bed before I was – I saw you go, and the door didn't open after that." He tilted his head. "What were you doing asleep at nine with no parents around anyways? You hadn't even done your homework. I was up 'til midnight working on mine."
Zabini and the two girls behind them started snickering. Several Gryffindors joined in a few moments later as Malfoy glared daggers at Prince. Harry smiled.
"See? I knew you were setting me up." Harry met Malfoy's furious stare with an easy smile. "I'm not stupid, Malfoy."
Any response was cut off by Professor Snape striding in. Malfoy quickly took his seat at the front with Crabbe and Goyle, and the class started. Harry couldn't help but shoot Prince a curious look.
Why had he made that comment? Was it something to do with the hat's suggestion? Did it tell Prince, too? Harry felt his face flush again, this time with some uncomfortable emotion he couldn't name. Baiting Malfoy like that wasn't very Gryffindor, was it? Nobody had pointed it out, but he knew: his father probably would've gone. He'd have enjoyed the adventure too. It wasn't like he didn't have a way to traverse the halls safely: without his mother's knowledge, his father had given him the invisibility cloak he'd used all his school years. Harry could have been and gone, no one the wiser.
But it wasn't being caught that had stopped him. He just hadn't cared enough to want to duel Malfoy. He'd told him he would just to shut him up: he'd never meant to keep his word. Hell, he'd managed to not even give his word, and the more fool Malfoy for believing him.
That only made it worse. What kind of Gryffindor could deceive a Slytherin?
IIII
Making objects fly had been one of the first things Harry and Neville had taught themselves. What kid wouldn't? It made for a boring Hallowe'en in Charms when they set out to learn it officially – but they were the only two in their class to find it boring. After two months at school, they were finding it both more and less challenging in turns. Being friends with Neville had that effect, and once he'd gotten past the first week of class, Neville had clamped onto the learning and held on tight. Harry was hard-pressed to keep up. The only student who matched him was Hermione, much to Harry – and Ron's – chagrin.
In fact, Ron had gotten the very short end of the stick this time around. He was paired with Hermione. Harry was with Seamus and had been ignoring his partner, spending most of the time making Neville laugh by levitating his feather at the front of the class. Neville had returned the favour twice already, and then stolen his hat when he wasn't looking, planting it on top of Seamus' burning feather.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron announced with much flailing about.
Hermione hissed next to him, "It's win-gar-dium levi-o-sa; make the gar nice and long."
Ron turned on her, "If you're so great at this, you do it!"
Hermione fluffed up and glared at him before she turned to her own feather. "Wingardium Leviosa!" Her feather floated easily off the desk to hover near the ceiling. Harry couldn't help but smile as Flitwick cheered.
"Oh, very well done, Miss Granger, well done! See here, class?"
The other students were generally more enthused at Hermione's success than Harry and Neville's – they were, after all, spoiled purebloods to many eyes, and there wasn't much they could say against it.
Ron, however, was sour as they left class.
"She's a nightmare!" He moaned. "Neville's bad enough, but I'm used to him – you've been playing with wands since you were four, I'm sure. Her, she just shows up and spews back everything she's read, like some monster!"
Harry shrugged. "She's addicted to books. It happens often enough, you know, books are all they care about. Hey!"
Someone ran into his shoulder hard. Hermione turned and sent a poisonous glare at him before hurrying off. She had looked uncomfortably like she was crying. Harry watched her go, and someone else punched his shoulder hard. Turning again, this time he met Neville's furious eyes.
"She heard you, you idiot."
He hurried off after her, sprinting to catch up. Harry stayed in place for a moment, fighting down shame. It appeared Neville had heard him, too.
"There's a good match," Ron groused. "Two bookworms."
"Ron, shut up."
Ignoring his gape, Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched the ground as he hurried to class.
They didn't see either of them all afternoon – Neville and Hermione didn't show up to their next class, and sat far away from them at lunch and their afternoon classes. Harry's hope to catch them at the feast was dashed when they weren't anywhere at the table. Harry hadn't spoken to Ron much either, feeling terrible about his best friend – his brother, really. Harry and Neville had been close since they were six years old, before that even. Coming into Neville's magic, and coming into Harry's fears had only made them closer. In light of that, the Hallowe'en decorations were a tawdry touch.
He put the annoying bats out of his mind and had barely talked himself into actually eating when Quirrel came racing into the Great Hall. Harry stared, nervous and unhappy, as the teacher came to Dumbledore's seat at the High Table and slumped across the width.
"Troll," Quirrel panted, "in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."
The teacher then sank to the floor in a dead faint.
Harry sat in his seat in the midst of the uproar of the other students. He stayed in his seat, silent and furious. How dare he ruin this? How dare he add this to the evening? He was tired of the goddamn mess!
He followed Percy out of the hall in a sullen gloom, and it wasn't until they were halfway to their dormitory that a horrible thought entered Harry's head. Hermione and Neville didn't know. Silently, Harry put out a hand to stop Ron as he raced the thought through his mind.
But where were they? The library? There were a lot of corners in the library. A bathroom? That's where girls went to cry, right? But Neville had followed her. Where else was private?
"Harry, what gives? We're getting left behind!"
"Hermione doesn't know about the troll. Neither does Neville."
Ron looked at him like he was crazy. "We don't even know where they are!"
"They're probably in the kitchens." Harry took off down the corridor, not caring if Ron followed.
Puffing, Ron caught up with his long legs. "But where – puff – how do you know where the kitchens are?"
Darting around a corner, Harry said, "Dad told me about them. They're downstairs... near the dungeons."
"Near the dungeons?" Ron gaped. "But what about the –"
A sharp stench stopped Harry in his tracks. He skidded to a stop and slapped Ron's chest. He saw Ron's eyes bug out as he finished in a whisper, "Troll."
Harry glanced around the corner at it and bit his lip. It was looking their way. Ducking back beside Ron, he smiled weakly.
"I think the troll left the dungeons."
Ron mouthed, "You think?"
A sharp snuffling sound came their way, and Harry motioned for Ron to start moving back down the hall. They focused so hard on being quiet, they almost didn't realize it was behind them until a stronger wave of stench broke over them. Looking back, Harry suddenly had to holler, "Protego!"
The club shattered the shield, and literally threw him off his feet. The hard wood impacted a foot away – where he had just been standing before shielding. Ron pointed his wand and opened his mouth, terrified and silent. The troll roared, releasing its club to clutch at its face. Harry pushed his friend to keep moving, but the troll dropped its hands and seized the weapon once more. Harry tried a severing charm, the spell rebounding off its hide before Ron turned and incanted, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The club jerked out of its hands. The troll watched it rise, confused and surprised, before Harry grabbed his shoulder. "Drop it on its head!"
Ron blinked, moved it right up the ceiling and let it go. It hit with a hollow thunk, and the troll slumped to the ground. Harry sank back against the wall and slid to the ground, breathing hard. Ron sat hard as well, staring. There was a white welt on the troll's face.
"What did you do?"
Harry blinked and looked at him. "You've never done accidental magic before?"
"That was me? I thought it was you; I though accidents like that were over when you entered Hogwarts!"
Harry snorted. "Not from what my mother says. I was still doing it playing with wands. Turned my godfather into a dog for three hours just this summer." Harry grinned. "Boy, was he pissed off." Ron stared at him, flabbergasted. Harry turned an innocent look at him. "He'd confiscated my books! Said I was reading way too much."
"What is it with you and books? Neville does it, Hermione does it–"
Ron made an expansive gesture and hit something soft on the upsweep. They both blinked and glanced up – way up. Harry gulped.
Snape was looming down at them, staring at Ron's hand as though he could burn it right off. Ron quickly pulled away and scooted against the wall with Harry.
"P-professor!" Ron stammered.
"What, pray tell, are you two doing away from your dorm?"
Harry struggled to his feet – his legs were shaking – and met Snape's glare with a frown of his own. "We were looking for Hermione. She ran off earlier today, upset –"
Snape looked from Ron to him and sneered. "Wasn't it your fault she was running off in the first place?"
Harry flushed, but answered, "That's why I felt I should look for her."
"Indeed." Snape's gaze bored into his before his face pinched and he looked away at the troll on the floor. "And what was this?"
"It was chasing us, sir. We fought back."
"Of course, it never would have chased you had you not been here to chase, now would it?" Ron began to stammer something, but Snape brushed it aside. "Ten points from each of you for placing yourselves in unnecessary danger. I believe you may find your friends are already upstairs – as Longbottom shows far more sense than you ever have."
Harry felt lead drop into his stomach, but he elbowed Ron and moved to go past him, upstairs. He was cut off by a gasp from down the corridor – turning, he found McGonagall. Standing next to her were Neville and Hermione.
"Severus! What was going on here?"
Professor Snape looked revolted. "Just an underestimation of what I thought was an intelligent student, Minerva. I had thought Longbottom had more sense than to remain wandering about, alone."
McGonagall sent a glare at the two students at her side. "I caught them coming out of the kitchen. Said they wished to avoid the feast due to some unpleasantness…" Her glare made it clear she'd gotten that part of the story out of them as well. Harry felt a pinch and ducked his head once more. "What is going on?"
"I found Potter and Weasley had managed to incite the mountain troll. Fortunately, their stupidity is tempered by some amount of cleverness and they knocked it down after a brush with near death."
"You two –" McGonagall puffed, and then Snape surprised everyone by waving her down.
"I have taken points," he answered tiredly. "I think it best to just remove them to their common room, Minerva. I'm sure your Gryffindors need reassurance their exemplary members have managed to survive their idiocy."
Professor Snape stalked down the hall and away, a limp in his step. McGonagall bristled again.
"Just what were you two thinking that you disobeyed the order to return to your dormitories?"
Ron shuffled his feet, his face bright red. Harry pulled his eyes from Snape's retreating back and answered in a mumble, "I was trying to make sure Neville and Hermione were okay."
McGonagall seemed to deflate. "You were what, Harry?"
Cautiously he glanced up at her. "Trying to let Neville and Hermione know about the troll. I thought I knew where they were, and they wouldn't have heard… I was right; we were heading for the kitchens…"
Her pinched lips seemed to twitch. "Very well. Five points to each of you, for looking out for a friend in a time of need, including you Longbottom. Now then. You must return to Gryffindor tower – you have a feast to finish."
Falling in behind her with Neville and Hermione, Harry managed a weak smile for them both. Hermione asked, "You were worried about me?"
Harry shrugged awkwardly. Still, she smiled at him and then turned to smile at Ron as well. Turning a little pink, she kept up with Neville, with a little spring in her step.
Harry met Ron's baffled expression with a small smile of his own.
IIII
It was several days later that Ron burst in and threw himself into a chair by the fire, glowering with anger. Harry glanced up at him.
"What's up?"
"Snape," he spat. "He tried to accuse me of sneaking off to the third floor corridor when I took the wrong staircase. I hope whatever his limp is, it's really hurting him."
"Snape's limping?" Harry frowned. He'd noticed that last week, hadn't he? Why wasn't it healed?
"Yeah." Ron frowned. "What do you care?"
"It should've been healed." Harry turned back to his paper and pulled out his letter to his mother. Quickly, he added a question on the bottom.
P.S. I saw Snape limping last week when we fought with the troll. Ron says he's still limping. What is that about? Has he told you?
What was he doing coming from upstairs anyways? That wasn't where the troll was. That was supposed to be in the dungeons.
"What are you writing there?"
"My mother is friends with Snape." Harry shrugged. "Not that it improves his attitude towards me anyways – he treats me like he treats my dad – but he talks with her all the time. If anyone can get answers out of him, she can."
"Your mother is friends with Snape?" Ron squeaked.
"Whose mother – Oh." Neville came over and took up a seat on the floor. "Yeah, you didn't know? They've been friends for years, now. They were friends when they were at Hogwarts, but they had a tiff that didn't get resolved until after the war. They're friends again, now, though James hates every minute of it."
"How does that work?"
"Simple. She hexes them whenever they won't stop badmouthing the other and never sits them in the same room. Not after last time."
Ron's eyebrows went into his hair. "What happened?"
Neville started snickering. Harry deadpanned, "Three foot hole in the ceiling, and a burning table runner. Not counting the spells that connected."
Neville choked back another laugh and said, "I don't think anyone's figured out whose side Remus fell on in that battle."
Harry straightened and pointed his finger. "Your parents started betting!"
"Yours were fighting on two different sides!"
Hermione blinked. "What was that about?"
Harry and Neville burst into laughter again.
IIII
… As for your question about Snape, he has indeed told me what happened and Harry, I can only ask you to not question. Severus was acting in the interests of the school and at Dumbledore's orders when he was upstairs rather than down. His injury should heal just fine in a few weeks. I'd say that nothing like that should happen again, but even if it does, this isn't anything to concern you. You have school to worry about – your teachers have it all under control.
What kind of work are you doing now in Charms? I remember…
Harry scowled at the letter and sat back in the armchair. Neville glanced over his shoulder.
"Lily didn't give you any solid answers, did she?"
"No. Just some vague reassurances."
Neville took it for a moment, but Harry finally said, "What is it, though?"
Neville blinked. "What is what?"
"What they're hiding?"
"What makes you think they're hiding something?"
Harry glared at him. "They have a giant, three-headed dog standing in a corridor in the middle of the school behind a sealed door. What else is it for? They have a whole forest outside to keep that dog in. It's dangerous to have that in the school!"
"The teachers supposedly have it under control –"
"That's why Snape got bit, then. He meant to do that."
Neville set down the letter and shrugged, turning back to his schoolwork. Harry brooded. Snape didn't put himself at risk for nothing. There was something going on that he felt he needed to interfere with.
Dumbledore's orders; Dumbledore's interference. Harry had heard that recently. "Neville, how's the look into the Gringott's break-in going?"
"Done. Nothing found," he answered, not looking up. "Nothing to be done: nobody knows who did it."
"And we now have something hiding in Hogwarts. Upon Dumbledore's orders, when Dumbledore emptied the vault in question."
Neville glanced up at him. "That's pretty hazy Harry."
"Yeah. But it's pretty suspicious, too."
Neville poked his scroll. "You're not done your Charms homework, either."
Harry made a rude gesture at Neville, but pulled the paper closer.
IIII
Next day, it was the Quidditch match. Harry felt a pinch as eleven o'clock drew near. He hated watching Quidditch. He would much rather be playing it, but first years weren't even allowed their own brooms; they didn't like to put them at risk on the pitch, even though he knew he had more than enough skill.
When Ron finally pulled on his arm to lead the way outside, Harry shrugged him off and smiled weakly.
"I think I'll go finish my homework with Neville. It's not going to be that exciting."
Ron made a funny face at him and let go, following Hermione out, who was also staring after them. When Ron urged her on, however, she followed, curious. Harry paused on his way back up the stairs.
Neville never went to Quidditch matches; he said they made him feel ill with nerves. Ron never made any fuss about him.
Why'd he look like Harry had done something cruel by refusing him now?
IIII
It was two weeks later that that bomb exploded. It was, however, a different fight that set it off.
"Would you stop following me, already!"
Harry halted as he came down to the entrance hall with Ron, Neville, and Hermione. Standing by the dungeon's entrance, Alan Prince had spun on his heel and lit into Blaise Zabini. The tiny boy glaring up at the black Zabini should have been funny, but something just made it look impressive to apparently everyone but Zabini himself.
"I thought you had admitted you liked my help –"
"I have more than learned the school by now, Blaise, I am not an idiot. You've had your usefulness, and it's wearing very thin now. Why do you insist on following me?"
"You haven't thought that you fascinate me, or that you might be a 'friend'?"
"You're one Hell of a shitty friend, Blaise. You hardly want to have any fun; you go on and on about family and propriety if I let you, and you don't get your hands dirty. You're a wimp and a whiner, and half the time, you're watching Draco Malfoy out of the corner of your eye – and don't think I don't see you grin at him! Merlin, Mary, and Morgan, you British are crazy!"
Zabini glanced up and across the Hall before leaning forward to say something quiet to Prince. Prince crossed his arms over his chest and rocked stubbornly back on his heels. At another word, however, he made a large show of sighing and followed him back into the hall. Harry shrugged and continued on his way now that the interesting part was over. Behind him, Neville made a soft 'huh' sound and was the first to sit down.
"What was that all about?" Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged. "It was an argument. Prince's foreign, and Zabini's being all Slytherin on him. Apparently, he wants Prince to like him, and," he laughed, "Prince obviously doesn't like him for being a Slytherin. I don't think Zabini gets it, though."
"Do you always know all this just from their arguments?" Ron asked. Harry looked at him; there had been a strange amount of venom in that statement.
"They're Slytherins, Ron. That's what they do. I've never heard them have a normal conversation."
"It sounds like you know a lot more about them than you do anyone else." Ron snarled. "If you're just going to talk to them, maybe I should just sit somewhere else!"
Ron grabbed a napkin, heaped it with food, and stormed off. Harry watched him go, his mouth open and shocked.
"What was that for?"
"I don't think Ron understands you, Harry," Hermione said.
"He's been touchy all week." Neville wouldn't look at him. "I think you scare him, too."
"Why? How?"
"He's never had to compete with you at school before." Neville stared at his plate and played with his fork. "When he came over, you hauled him straight outside every single time, and that's what Ron's good at. You left the books alone until you were just with me. Ron can't ignore it at school, now, and all he sees is you keeping up with me while he's left behind. I don't think he likes having to work with you at something he's not good at."
"But I don't care if Ron can keep up like that! Ron's just my friend. I need someone I can race around a tree who won't knock himself out on the damn thing."
Neville shrugged again, smiling wryly. "Ron doesn't see that."
Harry got up and jogged out of the hall, looking around and wondering where Ron could be. Outside? In the dormitory? He didn't know. He couldn't predict Ron like he could Neville. He tried outside, jogging around the grounds, but something stopped him and made him glance out. A small wooden hut sat on the edge of the forest, a great pumpkin patch growing beside it. Harry presumed it was the groundskeeper, Hagrid's place. He'd never met him, but his parents had known him, at least: always hauling them out of the forest.
On impulse, Harry jogged up and knocked on his door. Great booming barks echoed out, and then a rumbling voice growled, "'Old yer horses, I'm comin'. Just sit there, there's a good lad."
The door was hauled open. Inside, Harry immediately noted Ron's shock of red hair before the largest man Harry had ever seen blocked his view. He held the collar of a great boarhound like the beast weighed nothing, and compared to Hagrid it was true.
"What 'ave we 'ere? James Potter's boy, if I know that face." Hagrid grinned behind his shaggy beard, his black eyes twinkling. "Ye lookin' for Mr Weasley, now?"
"Yeah." Harry nodded. "May I come in?"
"Sure, sure! C'mon in."
Harry slipped inside and took a seat at the large table he had. Ron wouldn't look at him. He made a bit of small talk as it came to him, but it wasn't long before he paused and looked at Ron.
"Ron… What gives?"
"What gives?" Ron asked dully. "I don't see why you bother being my friend."
"Maybe because nobody else I know can keep up with me on a broom but my little sister?" Harry raised his eyebrow. Ron looked at him incredulously. "C'mon! It was two years ago that Neville managed to knock himself out on his own tree in his yard. Couldn't make the damn turn and knocked himself clean off his broom. Broke his arm. You didn't even come close to that branch, while I had to dodge!" Harry smiled, remembering. "You're as good at flying as your brother Charlie."
Ron mumbled, "I'm not as good as you."
"And Neville and Hermione have beaten me in every test we've had so far." Harry pointed out. "So what? I'd rather be out riding a broom than sitting doing schoolwork with them. We're just stuck with the schoolwork now."
"You didn't want to come to the Quidditch match with me," Ron pointed out.
"Ron, I hate watching Quidditch. I just want to be on a damn broom, and if I have to sit and put up with that for hours, it'll drive me crazy! I nearly throttled the Seeker last time I watched someone play."
Ron gave a small smile. "What made you so smart?"
"My mum." Harry answered. "She drilled it into my head."
"Lily would do tha'," Hagrid agreed, coming over with the tea he'd busied himself making while they talked. "Drink up, then. Always good, tha'." Ron turned pink, but Hagrid only nodded. "Ye feel better for talkin' abou' it? It's never good to be fightin' wi' yer friends."
"Ron?" Harry asked softly.
Ron took another drink and smiled weakly at Harry. "I suppose."
Harry grinned. "I need somebody to haul me out of the library if I start going crazy."
That brought a grin. "I can do that."
IIII
It was only a few short weeks later that the school woke up covered in snow. Hagrid hauled in several, very tall Christmas trees to decorate the Great Hall with, and everyone was excited about the holidays – even Neville who hadn't been so keen upon seeing his younger brother Connor anytime soon earlier in the year. Harry was excited and anxious, but he pushed the anxiety aside. It wasn't like it was a long visit, and he really wanted to see his mother again.
He was even looking forward to seeing his infuriating little sister, Nanna.
It wasn't until he was getting off the train at Platform 9 ¾ that he started to worry what their reactions to his antics so far would be. Lily would be the only one to know how he'd behaved in Potions class to incite Prince's little stunt, but everyone would know about the troll…
Five minutes after arrival, he remembered who he was worrying about here.
Sirius was accompanying his mother to the station today, and once Harry was off the train, he was scooped up into the air by Sirius and spun around.
"Harry! How smashing to see you! You are an exemplary son to your dear father already! Defeating a troll; you rotten little boy!" Sirius set him down and shook his finger sternly. The grin on his face, however, took any possible scold away. "Where on earth did you get that idea?"
"Neville's fault." Harry pointed innocently his direction.
Sirius wasn't fooled in the least.
IIII
"A troll, a fully grown, twelve-foot-tall mountain troll, and you just-… knocked it out?" James asked.
"Ron helped," Harry answered between mouthfuls. "Really, he did. He was the one who did the knocking out and who distracted it."
"We're going to have to invite the Weasleys over again." His father nodded smartly. "I must hear this from Ron himself."
Harry tried to imagine Ron's reaction and smiled into his dinner.
"However, I am concerned about one thing." James gave him another amused but stern look. "I have heard nothing of you looking up secret passageways."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Dad! I have actual schoolwork to do!"
James and Sirius both groaned simultaneously. Remus gave them an impatient look and then said,
"Well then, you should be working harder at getting it done so you have the time. You haven't even met Moaning Myrtle yet! "
"Or just not doing it at all!" Sirius pointed out. "You're doing fine in class; your homework doesn't have to be perfect!"
"His homework does so!" Lily argued. "Harry, don't listen to these overgrown children." She glared at them. "Good school habits will be very helpful to you, more so than secret passages. And you are not going to encourage him! For goodness sake, Myrtle stays in the girl's bathroom!"
"It's alright, I'll get both done." Harry shrugged. "It shouldn't hurt."
Remus and Lily met each other's eyes with exasperated looks. James and Sirius grinned, and Nanna piped up, "So how long are you back for?"
Harry looked around the table and smiled crookedly. "Long enough. I'll be wishing I were back at Hogwarts pretty soon."
Nanna nodded smartly. "Yeah, I'd say that sounds right."
Harry reached over and ruffled her hair. "So, do you have all your presents yet?"
"Yours isn't under the tree, Harry!" She frowned. "Where is it?"
Harry shrugged. He hadn't gone shopping; how would he? He was never near any shops. Lily, however, was taking him tomorrow, probably with Neville and Alice. It would be nice. Talk had turned to when to invite over the Weasleys and Harry just settled down to eating, trying to relax while he was at home.
It just didn't feel right.
IIII
He had a good haul: candy, clothes, pranks, and a knitted sweater from Mrs Weasley, which came as quite the surprise. Either way, it was a fun holiday and he got to enjoy New Years with Neville darting around the manor, trying to avoid their little siblings and having varying degrees of success.
Going back to Hogwarts was almost hard, but it wasn't long before he was glad of it. Dealing with his father tired him for some reason he couldn't fathom. The only thing that had stuck with him had been that he needed to find something to explore in the castle – but what?
It was in the first few days after returning that he went out, invisible, and tried to find something exciting. He wandered up first, checking the higher, deserted floors and old classrooms stuffed with dusty desks and tables. He passed tapestries and vases and armour he'd never seen, with everything from what looked like King Arthur to trolls dancing ballet.
He went downstairs, passing the kitchens and the entrance to Hufflepuff, which opened to release two Prefects whom he barely sidestepped. Further still came the dungeons, where he did not linger, and by then, he was too tired to go further, slipping back to the dorm and going to bed.
Two other adventures yielded little else, and Harry slept fitfully and unhappy. Nothing he did seemed to be right.
IIII
Time passed. There were other Quidditch matches; Harry attended them with Ron, trying to smile when all he wanted to do was grab a broom and snatch the Snitch out from under the Gryffindor Seeker's nose – he was a fourth year, slim with beady eyes and he'd missed it twice when Harry had spotted it flying by. He finally covered his eyes when the players found it and raced downwards – the roar from the stand nearby and Ron's angry shout told him all he needed to know. He'd expected the Hufflepuff Seeker to get it first; he'd been flying far faster. He'd been right.
After that, Harry spent as much time as he could with Ron, trying not to think. He invited him out to explore the school under the invisibility cloak, and had three near-misses with Filch. Nothing Hermione said deterred him; Neville didn't even bother. Ron thought it was grand fun.
His opinion cemented when, later that month, Hermione started coming down on them hard to study and revise. Harry and Neville both rolled their eyes in sync and pretended to buckle down. Neville sat, a book propped up in his lap, and Harry pulled Ron's attention quietly to the paper he was taking notes on. Ron was quickly engrossed.
Hermione was pleased for about ten minutes until she tried to get their attention. Neville didn't so much as flinch, his eyes glued to his book; Harry was trying not to laugh. Ron didn't have so much skill: he burst into snickers, and Hermione pulled the paper over.
"Harry! Ron! That's not studying!"
"It's a memory tool!"
"Yeah." She pointed to the word underneath the little hangman, "For Quidditch. I doubt the Holyhead Harpies are going to come up on our History exam!"
Harry shrugged at Ron, smiling slightly. Hermione turned to Neville.
"And what are you doing? Skiving off as well? Give me that." She grabbed at his book. Neville slammed it shut quickly, his face pink as he answered curtly, "Yes?"
Hermione was glaring at the book, which had a gap in the pages. "I thought you knew how important studying was." She looked close to tears.
Neville slid the smaller book out from within the textbook and didn't look at her, his face darkening. Harry raised his hand shortly. "Hermione, he does like the work, really. Neville's just a pisshead who doesn't study." Harry ducked the swipe. "But really, he'll love to go over the tests with you later."
"Do you think studying is a waste of time?"
Harry grinned. "I know it isn't. I just don't think it's fun either. Here, gimme back the paper. What was the committee meeting you wanted us to remember? I'll try and make a game of that."
Hermione allowed herself to be placated by that, but Ron wasn't pleased. He looked around and suddenly beamed. "Hagrid! What are you doing here?"
Hagrid spun in place, his hands going quickly behind his back. "Oh, hullo. I was just, er, looking up something fer me garden. Looking it up for me garden. How are you all doing?"
Ron sighed. "Revising."
"Ah. Tests." Hagrid nodded sagely, and then glanced back down at his hands. "Well, I got ter go. Good luck?"
Ron waved him off and smiled, but Neville was staring at the aisle suspiciously. "That isn't the Herbology aisle."
Swinging his feet apart, Neville bounced up and strode into the books there as Hermione sighed impatiently. Harry was making a list of what they needed to memorize, keeping one eye on Neville's return, which didn't take long. He brought with him three books, setting them on the table. Harry paused in his writing.
Neville met his eyes, frowning. "Dragons."
"What's he looking up dragons for?" Harry asked softly.
"Dunno." There was a small glimmer in his eye. Harry stared at him and shook his head.
"Neville, no. That's impossible."
"Harry, we're in a castle in the middle of nowhere, in Scotland, with a changing floorplan, a population of ghosts, and a bunch of kids with sparking wooden sticks. What says we can't have a dragon?"
"The fact that dragon breeding is illegal?"
"Since when has that ever stopped a wizard or a witch?"
Harry couldn't argue with that one. "So, what do you want to do about it? Report him?"
"No…" Neville grinned. "I want to see if I'm right."
Harry blinked.
A/N: Ugh, here's what I get for restarting this after so long. Missed by a day. Oh well. I hope you enjoy it.
Fire & Napalm