...can't show their Face
Because of You
Can't show our Face
Because of You
Can't show our Face
Can't show our Face
We live in the Dark
Don't leave a Trace...
Chapter Two
Snakes and Ladders
Professor McGonagall lived alone in a large house together with about twenty cats. Harry never got to count them properly because they were constantly moving, and when Harry was done counting some cats would always have switched places so he could never be sure he hadn't counted a cat or two twice. Every morning she woke at five and went on an early ride on her broom. Upon her return she would round up all her cats by blowing on a lion-shaped whistle, making the cats line up on the dining table. She then trained them all morning, making them jump through floating hoops and do all sorts of acrobatics.
After he had seen McGonagall morph into a cat one day, Harry had asked at dinner if all of her cats were human.
McGonagall laughed at him. "Oh silly boy, of course not," she said, cutting into a head of tuna on her plate, "they have been human," she added.
After that Harry decided to avoid asking her questions unless he really had to. She gave him plenty of time to study alone in his room upstairs, and liberal access to her personal library... though Harry found most of McGonagall's books to be of not much use to him. Over the weekends she tutored him privately, teaching him general things about the Wizarding World, so he wouldn't sound like a bumbling fool every time he spoke to someone important. Most importantly of all, Harry learned there had been a War, a terrible War in the Wizarding World that had taken the lives of both his parents, before he himself, Harry singlehandedly, as an infant, had put an end to the War by making the wizard that had murdered his parents disappear. McGonagall had not told Harry the wizard's name though, she said it was not important. The monster was gone now and everyone regarded Harry as a hero, the strongest wizard who lived, since no one, not even Dumbledore had been able to stop that evil wizard.
Harry was hearing Dumbledore's name dropped here and there, which made sense as McGonagall worked with him and saw him daily, but still it bothered Harry that this man who had apparently played such a central role in his life, the man who had left him at the mercy of the Dursleys, did not care to meet Harry even once, or write him a letter. Harry wanted to learn more about his past, about his parents, so he made up a mental list of all the things he would ask Dumbledore if he ever got a chance to speak with him.
Aside from that Harry excercised and read the paper, frequently cutting out fragments because the moving pictures fascinated him. On his eleventh birthday he was given a broom, McGonagall's old Tinderblast, to practice with, and he had an unexpected visitor.
This man was so large he barely fit inside the house, and had to climb in through the wide window. He claimed to have known Harry's parents, to have held Harry as a baby, and to have participated in the unfortunate event of giving him away to the Dursleys ten years ago on Dumbledore's orders. The man sobbed into a dirty handkerchief that looked about as large as the dining table cloth... he said he'd wanted to raise Harry on his own, and that Dumbledore had nearly given him permission, but then the Headmaster had changed his mind at the last moment, leading to their tearful separation all those many years ago.
Harry admitted he didn't remember any of it, but he valued Hagrid's concern for him and was glad to be reunited with him again, which ended in a crushing hug and an exchange of addresses so they could correspond by owl. This Hagrid turned out to be quite the companionable fellow. Harry exchanged many letters with him after his visit, and a letter from Hagrid never failed to lift Harry's spirits.
Also he couldn't thank Hagrid enough for Hedwig: yes, now Harry had an owl. And what a beauty she was. Snowy feathered straight from the polar circle, raised to fetch things, assist in hunts and send magical letters.
Harry had asked Hagrid if this was legal: what would the animal welfare authorities have to say about this? They'd have to be breaking the law in at least three different countries.
Hagrid flat out laughed at that. Then he told Harry about magical creatures and which ones were normal to keep as pets, and which ones weren't, which ones were endangered and all that. Harry felt a stiffness in his throat at the mention of Unicorns listed among the endangered species, but aside from that he'd felt pretty much at ease listening to Hagrid talk of Dragons and Hydras and Cerberi.
McGonagall was overly concerned about Harry's weight, and tried to bulk him up before the school year started. Harry was put on a steady diet of meat and fish, fresh vegetables and fruit. He ate the vegetables and fruit, but when the meat or fish was too much for him, he sneakily passed it under the table, into the waiting mouth of a cat. There would always be at least five cats lounging under the dining table when Harry sat down to one of his scheduled meals.
While he appreciated Professor McGonagall's effort, the routine also felt a tad stifling. Sometimes he nearly finished reading an enthralling entry of his textbook, but the magical flying timer that followed him around told him it was time to go take a shower, and would kick at him if he dared disobey. He wore round shaped reading glasses now, ever since McGonagall noticed he couldn't see the page all too clearly without them. Aunt Petunia had assumed he was too dumb to learn how to read. McGonnie had cared enough to call on a Magical Doctor who had concluded Harry suffered from a peculiar case of long-sightedness, and prescribed him magical glasses to wear while reading. Harry had chosen the round shaped model because it made him look like a right nerd, and hipsters were cool these days. McGonnie hadn't questioned it. She'd simply bought him the glasses and told him Hogwarts would take care of the bill.
Even so, as the Head of House Gryffindor, she could be a pretty imposing woman despite her size. And although she never punished or had to raise a hand at him, and certainly never made any outrageous demands over these five long months, everything she asked of him sounded right and fair, Harry felt compelled to do everything she said, as though by magic. He wondered if she was using spells on him without his knowledge... he certainly wouldn't put it past her.
He longed for the day the Hogwarts Express would take him off to the Castle, for the day he would meet other children of his age, he was dying to put all his studies to practice, for while he had been allowed to read magical books and fly around on a broom, as far as Professor McGonagall was concerned, his wand would be strictly off limits until the start of next school year.
On the morning of departure, Professor McGonagall presented Harry with a book bound in forest green leather that fit into the pockets of his school robes, titled The Heir of Slytherin. Harry had never set eyes on this book before. Opening it, he immediately noticed the old black and white photograph that had been stuck to the front endpapers. Two familiar looking faces smiled back at him, a young man and woman, her head leaning on his shoulder, his hand stroking through her hair.
"Thought you might like to have a picture of your parents," McGonnie said, patting Harry's shoulder, "can't offer you the real thing I'm afraid. It is beyond my powers."
Harry kept studying the photograph all morning, unable to tear his eyes from it during breakfast, and couldn't put it out of his mind even as he stood on King's Cross Station's Platform Nine and Three Quarters with the book safely tucked into the breast pocket of his robes, waiting to board the Hogwarts Express.
Hedwig cooed something into his ear from where she sat perched on his right shoulder. What perplexed Harry the most were the young man's looks. The couple in the picture looked rather young, Harry placed them at about fifteen or seventeen... they could have been students at Hogwarts when the photo was taken, Harry reckoned. And the girl did resemble him a lot. The more Harry looked at the photo, the more he was convinced she would pass for his older sister if they were ever sighted together. But the young man... Harry didn't know, something about him looked different, somehow.
He had the same unruly dark hair, but something about his facial features did not line up with Harry's. The man's eyes were placed lower, closer to his full healthy lips, his cheekbones were lower, his jaw looked almost square. Harry had wiped his reading glasses furiously before looking at the picture again. And the oddest thing, Harry realized, were the man's hands: the fingers he carded through her hair were short and stubby, not at all like Harry's long spider-like fingers. The young woman's hands did not appear to be exceptionally long and thin either, whenever she moved in the photo to cup the man's face and tenderly look into his eyes, her hands looked average in size and shape. Try as he might Harry could not solve this mystery, so he put it down to the photo being old and of a poor grainy quality.
The doors to the Hogwarts Express hissed open all at once, and Harry raced up the ladder, bags in hand, Hedwig flying right after him, failing to keep up. A cross looking boy in a navy blue cap stood at the top of the ladder, just inside the train, and wanted to see Harry's Hogwarts Letter of Admission. The boy warned Harry that he should keep the Letter with him at all times, say if he wanted to say goodbye to his family on the platform, he would not be allowed back on the train without his Letter.
But Harry had no intention of going back to the platform, he had no family waiting for him to hug and kiss and say his goodbyes. Hagrid was waiting for him at Hogwarts, and Professor McGonagall had likely directly flooed to her own office in Gryffindor Tower. With a hopeful smile, Harry tried to ignore how the students around him hung out of windows and waved at their families, and the pang that caused in his heart.
At least people were happy to see him here. Each compartment he stepped inside welcomed him, some even asked for his autograph. Harry was a blushing mess by the time he'd made it five train cars further, and finally found an empty compartment to dump all his stuff. Harry collapsed on the bench with a sigh. But he grinned, this school year was gonna be good. Better than good, this would be his best year ever. Exhausted and happy, he threw his head back against soft pillows.
The window of his compartment was open, letting the hustle and bustle of King's Cross Station float inside. Amid all the noises, animal cries and odd sounds, Harry thought he heard a voice he knew.
He sat up, perked his ears. There, on the platform, Harry beamed, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Harry leaned out the window and shouted as loud as his voice could carry: "Draco!"
The blond boy who stood by a severe looking man with ash blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and an elegant woman with honey blonde hair falling in ringlets around her face, all dressed in light grey robes, turned to the train, looking puzzled, like he wondered who could have called his name. Then their eyes met across the crowd. A healthy flush brought color to Draco's face, and he shouted back, "Harry!", smiling ear to ear.
In less than five seconds Harry was down the rungs of the ladder and on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, running with fire in his step. He'd nearly left his Letter of Admission in the train compartment, but Hedwig, ever the faithful friend, had flown out after him with the Letter in her beak.
Harry caught just the tail end of Draco's conversation with his parents.
"I'm proud of you, Son," the severe looking man said, tapping his snake head cane on the platform, "you're making powerful connections."
Draco averted his eyes. "Dad, it's not like that!"
Draco's dad merely chuckled, then proceeded to greet Harry cordially when he joined them, huffing and panting from his run. Hedwig hooted, dropping the Letter in Harry's hands. Draco's mum complimented Harry on having trained his owl so well, to which Harry blushed and took to scratching the back of his neck.
After being introduced to Harry, Draco's mum Narcissa and dad Lucius quickly excused themselves, bid their farewell, and hurried off somewhere, leaving Draco and him on the platform.
"So how has your summer been?" Draco asked as Harry helped him carry his things to their compartment.
Harry told him all about Professor McGonagall and her many cats. Draco laughed. "That must've been boring!"
Harry had to agree, though from the look of it, Draco hadn't had it much better. He was an only child, just like Harry, as Harry soon found out. This would be the first school Draco would attend, since he'd been homeschooled up until this point. Both his mum and dad had pitched in to teach him how to read and write, and they'd gotten him a decent tutor for violin, which Draco could play both normally and magically: by levitating.
When they'd unloaded all of Draco's bags in the compartment, the boys went on a stroll over the platform, Letters in hand. They still had an hour or so to kill before the train took off; Draco wanted to stretch his legs. They'd be cooped up all evening in that stuffy compartment. Harry agreed.
Loyalty chased Hedwig through the station, their hoots bounced off the high arched ceiling. Harry remarked how peculiar it was that all the Muggles on the other platforms couldn't hear them. For some reason Draco found that very funny.
They were about to head back to their compartment when Harry noticed a cloud of bushy brown hair whip by. Then the cloud came to a sudden halt, and the person turned, to reveal a young girl of his age. She was carrying a heavy looking cat crate in her hands, and her shoulders were weighed down by a backpack that was larger than herself. It was the girl he'd met at Ollivander's. She idled up to them. Harry tried to recall her name, but was saved the trouble when she set down the cat crate and promptly introduced herself as one Hermione Granger.
Compared to all the other kids Harry had run into thus far, Hermione wasn't all that interested in him. "Oh you're that famous boy?" she said, looking down at him. She had to be at least two inches taller.
No, Harry did not interest Hermione in the slightest. She seemed a lot more preoccupied with Draco. She sized him up, taking a good long look at his shiny black leather shoes. "So what do your parents do for a living?" Hermione finally asked without preamble.
Draco looked at her incredulously. "My father doesn't work," he said as though even the suggestion sounded insulting to his ears.
"So he's jobless, then," Hermione shrugged. "What does your Mum do?"
Draco didn't say anything but stared at her some more.
"My parents are both dentists," Hermione said self-importantly, showing off a splendid row of pearly whites.
Harry drew himself up to his full height, still coming up a few inches short on Hermione. "So," he said casually, "none of your parents do magic, then?"
Hermione's smile grew even wider. "What can I say, I'm naturally gifted. Always been better than everyone else at pretty much everything, so it didn't come as much of a surprise when I learned I could do magic as well."
Draco looked like he was about ready to draw his wand and challenge her to a duel right then and there. Harry wouldn't mind to see some magic in action, but there were too many people here, and Professor McGonagall had told him in no uncertain terms that if anyone was caught doing magic outside of school, they could kiss their education goodbye.
So Harry stepped forward instead. "Are you always this bitchy, or is that the Muggle in you?"
Draco clutched his stomach in a fit of laughter. Hermione just stared at them both, raising an eyebrow.
Draco elbowed Harry in the side companionably when she left. "Ha! That was a zinger! Should've captured the look on her face," Draco made a snapping motion with his fingers, he sighed, "too bad I don't have a camera..."
When they reached their train car, they couldn't get on, since a fat boy was blocking the way. He was trying to board the train, but the cross-looking train conductor would not let him on board because he didn't have his Letter of Admission on him. The boy cried and wailed but refused to get out of the way, and a line was forming behind him.
"Hey," Harry said gently, "have you forgotten yours at home?"
"No!" the boy cried, shaking his head, "just loaded my bags on the train," the boy spoke in gulps and gasps, heaving as tears streamed down his round face, "and went down to say bye to my nan, and," he sobbed, "and!"
Harry could about guess what had happened to him. "You left your Letter of Admission on the train?"
"Yes!" the guy cried, then pointed at the conductor, "that's what I've been trying to tell him!"
The conductor shrugged gruffly. "No Letter, no admission."
The boy heaved another sob. "I've always wanted to go to Hogwarts! It's been my dream."
Harry winced. "Well, even if you miss the train, I think you'll still be in Hogwarts."
The boy wailed out even louder, reminding Harry of one of Dudley's tantrums. This was really getting out of hand. "Buh, buh," he blubbered, "but I'll miss the Sorting Ceremony, my own Sorting Ceremony!"
Draco rolled his eyes. "What compartment you in?"
The boy told them. Draco put his fingers to his lip and whistled. Loyalty made a dive for them and pulled up right in front of Draco, fiercely flapping his wings. Harry stared as Draco gave his owl instructions, and wouldn't you know it, minutes later Loyalty was back with the bawling boy's Letter of Admission in his claws.
"Mister Longbottom, please board the train," the conductor said in a deep and impersonal voice, after which the whole line of people waiting piled inside the train, flashing their Letters of Admission as they walked past the conductor.
Loyalty hooted proudly as Draco petted him on the head.
Harry was speechless.
As they reclined in their compartment and waited for the train to take off, Draco told Harry how he'd trained his owl to fetch things. Harry listened with rapt attention, while Hedwig curiously eyed Loyalty.
Loud screams from the platform interrupted Draco mid-speech, and made them both turn to the window. A group of red headed boys was bounding down the platform, they all looked and sounded quite out of breath. Some ways behind them, Harry spotted an older man, a woman, and a cute little girl... all of them had quite striking fiery red hair.
"Hold the train!" some of the running boys bellowed.
Harry peeked his head out the window curiously, and saw the snappish conductor open the doors for them. He didn't even check their Letters of Admission, he just let them all through without a word.
"I was hoping they'd all transferred to Ilvermorny," Draco groused.
"The conductor doesn't ask for their Letters of Admission," Harry whispered, watching the youngest boy board the train.
Draco choked back a laugh. "Why would he? Their father's been elected Minister for Magic."
Harry shot him a look. "But don't they need to prove they are who they say they are?"
"Everyone knows the Weasleys."
Harry frowned; it seemed odd that Longbottom, the chubby boy he'd met earlier, should be judged so harshly for leaving his Letter on the train, an easy mistake anyone could make, Hell, Harry had nearly made the same mistake himself, he'd be toast if Hedwig hadn't saved him, while these boys were invited on the Hogwarts Express with open arms, despite being late. Harry glanced at the large clock in the middle of the station. The train should have taken off by now. It seemed to have been held up just for them...
The youngest Weasley boy opened the door to their compartment, then stopped. He and Draco got lost in a staring match that seemed to last forever, at least the train finally started moving, Harry thought.
"Oh great," Weasley heaved a dramatic sigh, lifting his eyes to the ceiling, "my brothers took so long to pack all their stuff and now this is the only compartment left."
With slumped shoulders he dragged himself inside Draco and Harry's compartment, along with his bags that really filled up the place, and sat down next to Harry, as far away from Draco as he could possibly get inside the tiny train compartment.
Weasley leaned forward, covered his face with his hands and groaned. "Why do I have to share compartments with Mister White Supremacist fuckface?"
A rat crawled out of a hole in the boy's sweater. Draco curled his lip in disgust; Loyalty flapped his wings, training his beady eyes on the rat.
"I'm not a white supremacist!" Harry said, staring at the Weasley boy in abject shock.
Looking out the window at the passing scenery, Draco sourly grumbled: "he's talking about me."
Weasley stared straight ahead at the opposite wall, while absently scratching his rat behind the ears. "You've chosen bloody perfect people to associate with," he said to Harry.
Draco drummed his fingers on the folding table. "He's just pissed that I would never ever go out with a Muggle."
"Exactly!" Weasley cried, pinning Draco with a fiery glare. "That's racist."
"Have you met any Muggles?" Harry said incredulously. He couldn't for the life of him fathom why a Wizard would want to date one.
"Umm... no," Weasley grew quieter.
Draco leaned back on the cushions. "How cute. Last time I checked, Muggles weren't a race."
Weasley reeled on him. "They can't help they're born without magic, can they?"
A nasty grin crept onto Draco's fine features. "Alligators can't help being born in the mud. Would you love to spend some quality time with an alligator? I can arrange that."
Weasley stood, and drew his wand. His eyes had turned to slits. "Wanna put your money where your mouth is, Malfoy?"
Draco reached inside his robes when Harry jumped between them, holding his hands up. "Guys, guys! Stop!"
Weasley sneered at him. "Didn't know the great Harry Potter was such a wimp."
Draco paused, his hand in the breast pocket of his robes. "Harry's right. I'm not gonna lose my Hogwarts Degree of Wizardry over something as silly as this," he snickered at Weasley.
Weasley's nostrils flared. He raised his wand at Draco with a spell on his lip.
"But," Draco added deviously drawing his own wand from his robes, "we can't get in trouble where we can't be found."
Reaching out he grabbed Harry's wrist in his wand hand, and the Weasley boy's wrist in his other hand. Harry's stomach lurched. Their surroundings transformed into a green leafy swamp. Hedwig and Loyalty had gone, but the rat was still perched on Weasley's shoulder, looking like it was about to vomit.
"Where did you apparate us to?" Weasley demanded, grabbing Draco by his robe lapels and shaking him.
Harry took care to step from grass patch to grass patch, avoiding the bogs.
"Well you said you wished to see an alligator," Draco shrugged, "I would refer you to the zoo, but here's a place you can spot them in the wild."
Upon speaking those words Draco briskly waved his wand, and three nearby logs, one of which lay less than a yard from where Harry stood, promptly turned into scaly brown crocodiles that splendidly blended into the environment.
"You are insane," Weasley stated.
Harry was inclined to agree. He hopped away from the closest crocodile before it could get any ideas about having him for lunch, and looked around, hoping to find a way out of here. Yet no matter which way he looked, Harry was greeted with a decaying old forest, as far as the eye could see.
Draco grinned. "Oh calm yourself Weasley, we're only in Wistman's Wood on the Dartmoor, not too far from your home. I reckon no one's foolish enough to pass through these woods for the rest of the day, so we can safely duel here, without the teachers ever finding out." He nodded at Harry, "Harry can be our arbiter, I trust his judgement."
But Weasley wasn't done yelling at him.
"We'll be in so much more trouble than if we just got caught duelling on the train! Apparating without a license, have you lost your mind? You could have killed us Malfoy!"
Draco flashed him a toothy grin. "Who says I don't have a license? The Danish are a lot more sensible about these things." He extracted a card from his pocket, with his name and picture and a bunch of other words that made no sense in English.
"Well we're not in Denmark are we?" Weasley shouted into Draco's face. "Danish Law doesn't apply in Great Britain, you're still committing a criminal offense!"
With dread Harry watched the crocodiles inch closer...
Draco pursed his lip smugly. "I would be, if I didn't have this special permission slip that grants me immunity against such laws, signed by the British Minister for Magic himself."
Weasley stared at the parchment in Draco's hand.
"Uhh guys?" Harry pointed at the alligators that were steadfastly approaching them.
"Incendio," Weasley said.
Licks of flame burst from Weasley's wand and fired at the alligators, which turned back into logs again the moment his fire touched them.
"Aguamenti," said Draco, putting out the flames.
Weasley rubbed his chin and looked at Draco from head to toe. "Not bad, audio-visual illusions that masquerade as transfigured logs. Those alligators looked quite real."
Draco spread his arms. "Well what have you got? Surprise me."
A wicked grin appeared on Weasley's freckled face. "Levicorpus."
Moments after, Draco was propelled upward, hitting a tree branch or two on the way, till he was dangling in the air by his feet. A number of golden coins scattered from his pockets along with his Apparition license and waiver, which Weasley deftly picked up.
"I'll be taking this," he said, fluttering the waiver about before stashing it in the pocket of his robes, "have a feeling it's forged. No way my dad would allow the likes of you to apparate whenever."
"Liberacorpus," Draco muttered before dropping to the ground in a crouch. There was a cut on his right cheek, where a tree branch had hit him, smears of mud covered his face and hair that was tousled from the fall. He snatched his Apparition license from the mossy ground, but didn't care to collect the coins that had scattered all over the place.
"Arresto momentum," Weasley gleefully called.
Draco seemed to move in slow motion. It was like watching a movie at half its normal speed. Weasley ran at Draco, skillfully hopping from grass patch to grass patch, and pulled the wand from his hand before Draco could even do so much as blink.
Folding his arms over his chest, Weasley casually walked over to Harry. "So you can safely say I've won this duel, then, eh? Not much he can do now."
Weasley gave Draco's wand to a stunned looking Harry, and lifted the spell. Draco slumped forward in defeat. Harry returned him his wand and Draco apparated them all back on the train, where surprisingly no one apart from Hedwig and Loyalty had noticed they'd been gone.
Weasley fell back on the bench, in the same spot Draco had been sitting before this all started. "My, duelling sure takes a lot out of a man. I'm starving!"
He reached into one of his bags and pulled out a bundle, unwrapping the checkered red cloth to reveal two thick sandwiches of green eggs and ham.
"I'm Ron by the way," he said conversationally to Harry, who had slumped down on the bench right beside him, "in case you didn't know."
Draco used a cleaning spell on himself, fixed his tie, and sat down across from them. Ron's rat greedily nibbled on the second sandwich that lay on the folding table.
That's when Harry's stomach made itself known. He wished he'd packed some sandwiches, it had honestly slipped his mind. He'd been so excited about going to Hogwarts he hadn't even considered what he'd be having for lunch. Hedwig looked at him sharply. Harry felt guilty, he'd been in such a rush to get on the train, he hadn't thought of bringing along anything for her to eat.
Just like Ron, Draco reached into his bag and placed a small metal lunch box on the table, unclasping the latch to reveal one cracker, a walnut, and a single blackberry. Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He thought the Dursleys had starved him, but that looked like nothing compared to the scant meal Draco was having.
Ron pointed and laughed. "You on a diet or something?"
Loyalty rotated his head impatiently glancing over Draco's shoulder. Harry realized Draco's owl must be hungry too.
"Watch and learn, Weasley." Draco took his cracker from the lunch box, placed it on a plain white napkin he'd previously spread out on the table, and waved his wand over it.
Harry's jaw dropped as he watched the small rectangular cracker transform into a heap of white buttered bread slices richly spread with sturgeon roe before his very own eyes.
Draco smirked at their astonished faces. "You're welcome to dig in, Harry, if you'd like," he said, taking a sandwich of his own from the pile and biting into it.
Ron huffed and turned away to the window. Harry accepted his offer, feeling grateful Draco hadn't drawn attention to his negligence of packing a lunch.
The sturgeon roe sandwiches were wonderful, Harry had never tasted something so delicious in his life. But as the heap of bread shrunk, his mouth started feeling rather dry. The roe was soft and had a complicated taste, titillating several different taste buds all at once in an orchestra of flavors, but it was also very salty.
After imposing so much on Draco's hospitality, Harry didn't have the courage to ask for something to drink.
Ron noisily slurped on a carton of pumpkin juice.
Draco insisted on Harry having the last salty sandwich.
After trying to politely refuse five times, Harry finally forced it down his dry throat. He watched Draco take the blackberry from his lunch box... with a wave of his wand the blackberry turned into a tall crystal decanter filled with a dark purple liquid, along with a set of two soda glasses and a porcelain saucer.
Draco busied himself with pouring purple liquid into the saucer, and fondly ruffling Loyalty's feathers when he swooped down and dipped his beak into the liquid. Hedwig watched on nervously, then stalked over to the saucer and stared at Draco as if asking for permission, and when he smiled at her she too dipped her head beside Loyalty's, gulping down the purple liquid that vaguely smelled of blackberries.
Well, that was unexpected. Draco poured himself and Harry a soda glass from the same decanter, and sprawled out on the bench with a contented sigh.
"Thank you," Harry said again, letting the sweet berry drink soothe his parched throat.
"Don't mention it."
Loyalty flapped his wings, hopped onto Draco's right shoulder and playfully nibbled on his ear.
"Yeah, yeah," Draco sighed, he picked the walnut from his lunch box and briefly hovered his wand over it.
A mountain of owl feed pellets spread out over the crumb covered napkin. Hedwig hooted loudly and pecked at the food, followed by Loyalty who landed on the table beside her. Ron grabbed his rat by the tail and pulled it away from the feed pellets, muttering "Traitor," under his breath.
When they were all done Draco performed a cleaning spell on his napkin and tucked it into a pocket of his robes. One wave of his wand transformed the empty decanter, soda glasses and saucer into a small silver teaspoon which he placed inside his lunch box.
"Father warned me about our Potions professor, he's very strict," Draco said, turning to Harry.
"Can't be much worse than our teacher for Transfiguration. We got Professor McGonagall."
Both boys groaned. They talked about their classes at Hogwarts, and Ron pretended not to hear a single word they were saying. The world outside had turned dark by the time the conductor popped in and told them to leave their luggage on the train, it would be safely carried to their quarters by the older students, he assured them, First Years were to partake in a special initiation ritual before setting foot on school grounds. Their pets would likewise be looked after, the school had a special aviary for the owls. Soon enough the train stopped by the docks of a great lake, and all First Years poured out. A multitude of charming little gondola-like boats with floating lanterns greeted them.
Adult supervisors in cloaks and pointy hats who had to be their teachers, told them to climb inside the gondolas. Ron jumped into a different boat as soon as he got the chance to get away from Draco, so they didn't see him for the rest of their way to school. Harry was so pre-occupied with the glittering water around the floating lantern and the giant glowing castle in the distance, he barely spoke to the other kids in his boat.
They disembarked on a pebbled shore, and strange frog like creatures that Draco called hodags pulled their boats from the water. As soon as the students stepped onto the shore, the hodags slithered back to the lake, vanishing from sight. One of them barked like a dog before plunging into the water, leaving wide ripples in its wake.
A tall young Witch in olive colored robes and a dark green pointed hat spangled with half moons led them up a narrow path that curved around oddly shaped boulders. Harry was so thrilled to see the castle of Hogwarts, he ran ahead of the group, and stuck close to the Witch in the olive robes who led the way. Her name was Professor Aurora Sinistra, and she taught Astronomy, she told them, although the students in the back of the group probably couldn't hear her. Professor Sinistra had dark skin and even darker eyes that looked black as night, a prominent sharp nose, and an intricate black braid that looped down her back. Harry was surprised to learn that just like the wand maker Ollivander, she knew all their names. When the fat boy who had left his Letter on the train lagged behind, Professor Sinistra immediately called out: "Longbottom, keep up!"
Before he knew it they were at Hogwarts Castle. Harry and his fellow students took in the sights, some gasping in amazement. It looked even larger than it had in the pictures.
They were all invited inside a large hall with a ceiling that seemed to go on forever and strongly resembled the night sky with its twinkling stars. Candles floated above four long tables. The older students were already seated at these, and further, deeper into the hall, the teachers and Hogwarts staff sat at another table which overlooked the great hall. Harry recognized Hagrid among the staff, he waved.
Hagrid waved back! The smile on Harry's face turned into a wide grin, he looked further down the line of educators and then he froze. Albus Dumbledore was looking right at him.
There was no mistake about it, that man was Professor Dumbledore, in the flesh! Harry's tongue was burning with questions, his head buzzing with all the things he'd wanted to say to him... but there were too many students and tables between them, Harry noted. There was no way he could speak with Dumbledore now, he wouldn't be allowed to. With slumped shoulders, Harry turned his eyes away.
A smaller dais caught his attention. The only thing on it was a plain four legged stool. Then McGonagall brushed into the hall with a dusty looking hat in her hands, Harry had been wondering when she would show up. McGonagall commanded every First Year's attention and explained the particulars of the Sorting Ceremony as Professor Sinistra sat down at the teacher's table.
Owing to the many oddities and quirks he'd seen so far today, Harry was not much surprised when they were called upon in reverse alphabetic order. When Ronald Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, Draco leaned over and whispered into his ear:
"Figures, all the lot of 'em are in the same House."
Not long after, Harry's name rung through the hall. All eyes were on him as he nervously shuffled to the four legged stool on the raised dais. With the moldy hat covering his ears and probing his mind, all Harry could think of was 'Not Gryffindor!' If he had to have McGonagall as Head of House, he wouldn't survive a whole dreaded school year.
"Are you sure?" the purring voice asked him softly. "I see a great knack for learning here, but..." the Sorting Hat paused, "you haven't read very many books."
Harry glared at the floor. He couldn't help it that those wretched Muggles had kept him away from school, and all books in McGonagall's personal library had been too advanced for him to comprehend. All he'd had to read last summer were First Year's textbooks, and he'd read them all cover to cover since there hadn't been anything else to do.
"Alright," the Sorting Hat said, "I can see you're a hard worker, a very hard worker." The hat hummed in approval.
What was that supposed to mean? Harry frowned at the floor, trying to piece together what the hat was telling him. How did that rhyme go again?
You might belong in Gryffindor,
where dwell the brave at heart,
their daring nerve and chivalry
set Gryffindors apart.
You might belong in Hufflepuff
where they are just and loyal,
those patient Hufflepuffs are
true and unafraid of toil.
Well, Harry shrugged, if the hat was telling him to go to Hufflepuff, perhaps that would be right. Who else would know better where he belonged than the Hogwarts Sorting Hat? Harry didn't really care, either way, as long as he didn't have McGonagall as Head of House. Five months living with that crazy old cat lady was more than enough for him.
But the hat did not sort him just yet. It kept scouring his mind for more clues. Harry groaned. Why was the hat taking so long? Everyone was looking at him. This was so embarassing. He sunk lower on the stool, trying to make himself invisible.
The Sorting Hat cackled. "You'll learn how to do that in your Third Year, my boy. Not very patient then, eh?" it asked him cheekily.
Harry wondered if he'd make a good Ravenclaw... after all the rhyme had said:
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw
if you've a ready mind,
where those of wit and learning
will always find their kind.
Seemed like a nice House to be in. Harry couldn't picture them judging him all too harshly for how weird he could be sometimes.
"Nah," the hat said flatly, "yer too dumb for that House, sorry."
Harry sunk even lower in his seat. He really really didn't want to be sorted into Gryffindor.
"All because of one woman?" the Sorting Hat sounded surprised. "Professor McGonagall isn't that bad, you should give her a chance. She may seem strict and cold at first, but when you get to know her..."
Harry had no desire to get to know McGonagall any better than he already had.
The Sorting Hat let out a deep suffering sigh that made Harry wonder just how old the thing was. "I don't wish to do this, but you're leaving me with little choice." The hat tickled him behind the ears. "Don't do it Harry, don't throw away seven years on a whim."
Harry blinked. He'd been told all Houses were equally valuable, that none of the Houses was any better or worse than the other three, that all four Houses needed each other to make Hogwarts the school it was. But now the Sorting Hat made it seem... made it seem like...
'What's wrong with Slytherin?' Harry thought furiously at the hat. The rhyme from earlier hadn't contained anything damning.
Or perhaps in Slytherin
you'll make your real friends,
those cunning folks use any means
to achieve their ends.
The hat grumbled, but remained tight-lipped, refusing to answer any of Harry's burning questions.
"Slytherin," it spat out at long last, not sounding very pleased about that. Its cloth started feeling itchy on Harry's head. He was relieved when McGonagall took it off him and called for the next student.
The Slytherin table welcomed Harry with a loud cheer. A few older students made place for him by shifting their bags off the bench that ran along the green table.
"Hi," a handsome dark skinned boy said from the right of Harry, holding out his hand. "The name's Blaise," the boy said as he shook Harry's hand, "I've heard great things about you."
Before he could really say much to Blaise or have a meaningful conversation with him, a girl with a dark brown bowl cut ran over to their table, earning more cheers and loud whistles. She settled in on the other side of Harry, and immediately introduced herself as one Pansy Parkinson, "nice to meet you Potter."
"Ehm, call me Harry," said Harry nervously shifting around on the bench.
Pansy had piercing amber colored eyes that watched him like a hawk... or a cat, Harry couldn't be too sure which, either way her presence didn't make him feel very well at ease.
"Alright Harry," Pansy smiled warmly, though her eyes still held some dangerous mysterious kind of energy, "Blaise and I were wondering which class you most look forward to," she said while drumming her fingers lightly on the table.
Harry looked from Pansy to Blaise, to Pansy and back at Blaise again. Did these two know each other? He felt positively surrounded with the both of them sitting on either side of him, he could barely see the Sorting Ceremony from here...
Blaise saved Harry from his confusion by giving a clear nod, toothy grin stretching from ear to ear. "Pansy and I used to go to preschool together, up in Tara, Ireland."
"Ahh..." Harry laughed good naturedly. He felt foolish for not considering preschool before: young wizards and witches would have to learn how to read and write somewhere, wouldn't they? What else could wizarding families where both parents worked full-time do, other than send their kids to preschool?
"I'm not actually Irish," Blaise smirked, "my mom's from Italy, but Pansy here is one hundred percent bona fide Irishwoman."
He winked at her, at which Pansy laughed and reached around Harry to poke Blaise in the shoulder. "Oh Blaise! Shut up," she giggled.
Harry smiled. "Can't wait for Broom Flight class," he confided, "flying always gives me such a thrill, I love it."
"Ah," Blaise nodded wisely, "Quidditch man here? Respect." He held his fist up for Harry to bump.
Pansy inspected her long green fingernails. "I'm looking forward to DADA."
"Sure you're not eager for the Dark Arts themselves?" Blaise winked, "wanna learn a spell or two that'll let you scratch people's eyes out with those green talons of yours?"
To Harry's great surprise Pansy did not take offense at this remark on her nails, but instead threw her head back and laughed hysterically. Blaise joined her moments later, and before he knew it, Harry too had joined in with their raucous laughter and cheering each time the Sorting Hat yelled "Slytherin!"
By the time Draco got sorted into their House, so many students had surrounded Harry that Draco had to sit all the way at the end of their House table, and all Harry could do was wave with a sorry smile. Draco gave him a small smile of his own: at least they were in the same House, could be worse.
Professor Dumbledore made a formal speech, after which they all had dinner in the Great Hall, and when that was over, the Head Boys and Girls and the Prefects came to collect the First Years of their Houses, and Harry found himself following a small group of people down winding staircases that seemed to move, and over bridges, and through dark corridors resembling tunnels. All the way down, Draco's wand emitted tear-shaped puffs of silvery smoke.
The Slytherin dorms were found in the lower depths of the castle, some quarters even lay below the Great Lake's low water mark. The girl Prefect jokingly said that about a century ago, some First Year boys had drowned inside their dorms when the Castle walls crumbled from long time erosion and lack of maintenance, due to their Head of House of that time being greedy with funds. She said their ghosts still haunted the Slytherin Dungeon and could be seen running from the dorms sometime after midnight.
They stopped in front of a plain nondescript stone wall in some random passage that looked no different from the many other corridors they'd been through. The girl Prefect Farley, "that's her last name," Draco had whispered into Harry's ear, she hadn't given them her first name, placed her hand on the wall and whispered one word just loud enough for all the newly sorted Slytherin First Years to hear:
"Ladders."
And she was gone.
They all looked about, puzzled, wondering where she could have run off to. One large thick-necked and flat-nosed boy even thought to check the ceiling, but Farley wasn't there either. Draco suggested that she had apparated, and this was all part of an elaborate practical joke Slytherin Prefects pulled on First Years.
"Hold on a minute," said Blaise, casting a suspicious look at the plain stone wall. "This is a test," he said, smirking at the others.
Draco blinked.
Pansy quickly caught on. She nodded at Blaise, her eyes sparkling with malicious glee as she rounded on her fellow Housemates. "It's a test to see if we really have what it takes to be in House Slytherin."
"Yeah," Blaise sneered, leaning against the plain stone wall, "and a chance for us to prove ourselves worthy."
The heavy-set boy with the flat nose frowned. "Maybe it's like Platform nine and three quarters?" he muttered before running head-first at the wall.
Harry, Draco and Blaise all stared at him in shock as the poor boy bashed his head into the stone and fell backwards, hard on his rear end. To the boy's credit, he didn't show any signs of being in pain, and looked more determined than ever as he stood, balling his fists and glaring at the wall.
Pansy snickered at the boy. "Sure you weren't supposed to be sorted into Gryffindor? I hear their kind makes all sorts of irrational split-second decisions, all the time."
"From what I've heard The Sorting Hat doesn't have errors in judgement," Harry said quietly, surprised when all the whispering died down and everyone turned to listen to him. He cleared his throat. "Regardless of our ability to find the Slytherin House Common Room, everyone here has been selected into our House."
Blaise clapped. "Nice Harry, thanks for lifting the morale!"
Harry couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. With a thoughtful expression he turned to the wall Blaise leaned on. He stroked the plain grey stones, searching for an unevenness in the surface. Seconds later, Pansy was by his side, doing the same. Harry tried to recall precisely what Farley had done before she disappeared.
Farley had stood exactly in this spot, Harry rooted his feet in the floor, she had placed her hand on the wall and whispered something. What was it? What had Farley said? It had only been minutes ago, but with everything that had been said during these past five minutes and with the cacaphony of hushed whispers going on all around him, Harry was finding it increasingly tough to concentrate. He frowned, was it ...?
That sounded far too simple, but he placed his palm flat on the stone, brought his face close to the wall and mouthed, so quiet none of his classmates would overhear: "ladders."
Before Harry knew it he was falling forward through the wall, and had to take a step to stop from face-planting on the floor. A girl's black stockings and skirt came into view.
"So," he heard Farley's voice say, and looked up to find her smirking down at him, hands on her hips. "You're the first. Let's see how long it'll take those morons to figure it out."
They stood there in the corridor and watched as little by little, Harry's Year's Housemates trickled through the wall. The flat-nosed boy who had brutally charged at the wall was last, after nearly an hour had passed. Draco had moaned and whined about it, and implored Farley to let them go to their Common Room already, but the Prefect refused all of Draco's requests, and had smugly informed them all this was an important team building exercise to promote House unity. They were to wait in this corridor until all Slytherin First Years had walked through the wall. Pansy and Blaise, who had both been second to solve the puzzle after Harry, passed the time by playing a game of magical cards that Pansy had up her sleeve all along. Harry gave up trying to follow their game halfway through, when his friend Draco walked through the wall.
When they had all passed this initial test, the boy Prefect Aegis Rowle called them to a comfortably furnished Common Room that had no windows but was lighted by levitating candles that drifted all around the room. The green leather sofas were all occupied by Older Years, so Harry and his Year's Housemates could do nothing but stand there as Rowle lectured them on basic House Rules.
House Unity was very important, Rowle said it was vital to Slytherin's survival as a House. He likened it to how Witches and Wizards posed one united front against Muggles, obeying the Statute of Secrecy by keeping knowledge of their magical abilities under tight wraps. He trusted his fellow Slytherins to do the same around their classmates of other Houses. What happened in Slytherin Dungeon stayed in Slytherin Dungeon.
He made them all nod to confirm they understood. The password to the Slytherin dorms was to change every fortnight, and would be divulged to them by one of the House Prefects, him or Farley. Punishment for leaking this password to members of a different House would be severe, Rowle assured them.
"No outsider has entered the Slytherin Dungeon for over seven hundred years," Rowle winked. "Let's not change that."
Murmurs filled the Common Room, Harry overheard a few students say a Hufflepuff had snuck inside the Dungeon less than twenty years ago, during the War. Rowle raised his hand; everyone fell silent.
"Some call our House evil," Rowle paused. Then he grinned, his cheekbones went up, turning his eyes to narrow half moons. "I call it savage!"
The Common Room burst into laughter. Some of the First Years were chuckling too, Blaise and Pansy were having the time of their life, and Draco's face had lit up, but Harry just stood there with a confused frown on his face, wondering why everyone around him was laughing.
When the laughter had somewhat died down, Rowle proceeded. "You can't be sensitive in a House like ours. Throughout the centuries Slytherin has bred fine Wizards and Witches of outstanding skill. We fight to win, and we train to succeed," he finished with a wide grin and gave the word to their Head of House, Professor Snape.
The room fell silent like a grave as all hushed whispers died down. A middle aged man all dressed in black stepped from the shadows, and fixed everyone with a stern look from behind his curtain of long dark hair. His ghostly pale skin gave the impression that he hadn't set a foot outdoors in years.
"I expect you all to do your best and work your hardest at living up to our House name," Professor Snape said, trailing his piercing coal eyes over each student. "Anyone caught besmirching our House reputation will be dealt with harshly. I will tolerate no error, especially among my own students."
Snape narrowed his eyes at a Second Year who straightened up like a rod the moment Snape's gaze fell on him.
"For none would take House Slytherin seriously if I granted you lot any liberties."
Professor Snape's voice curled around the name 'Slytherin', as though he were caressing it with his tongue.
"In previous generations," Snape said, pacing about the room, "our House used to employ corporeal punishments to keep our students in line. Spending a night hanging upside down, suspended by chains from the wall was usually enough to bring a student back to their senses."
Professor Snape was not smiling. It had not been a joke.
"In particularly tough cases," he continued, "we have had to toss a student into a pit of venomous rattlesnakes," he shrugged as though that were no big deal, "and eh, leave them there for a week or two. They were always well behaved after that."
Harry gulped. What had he gotten himself into? This man sounded like a raving nightmare compared to dear old McGonnie! Harry started thinking that perhaps he'd made the wrong choice after all. The Sorting Hat had been right! He didn't want to be in House Slytherin.
But now it was too late to change his mind...
Professor Snape rolled his eyes. "But parents have gotten soft over the years after the War," he drawled in a bored tone, "and sensibilities have grown far too genteel, so we have since removed such methods of dealing with troublemakers from our practice."
He stopped right in front of Harry and pinned him with a long hard stare.
Harry felt the sweat dribble down his neck and into his robes.
"Don't make us bring them back," Snape said, looking directly into Harry's eyes.
Then the Professor abruptly turned on his heel and swept out of the Common Room, throwing "five points off Slytherin," over his shoulder.
The Common Room gasped.
"Potter's shirt is not tucked in properly," Snape added by way of explanation, and left.
Harry exchanged looks with Blaise, who had been standing right beside him this whole time, and who wore his shirt completely untucked!
Blaise shook his head in amazement, "either Snape really hates you, or you are one unlucky bastard."
Harry supposed it was the latter. They all went down to the sleeping chambers to settle in. Harry ended up sharing a room with Draco, Blaise and another boy he did not yet know: the guy had spiky light brown hair and thin calculating eyes of a deep blue color, he introduced himself as Greg; they shook hands.
Blaise immediately called top bunk. Draco and Greg awkwardly shuffled by the door and glanced at Harry, letting him enter the bedroom ahead of them, and Blaise patted the other top bunk, suggesting Harry should take it.
Greg settled in on the bed below Blaise, and Draco carried his things to the bed directly beneath Harry's.
As soon as Harry opened his trunk, Blaise took to teasing him over still sleeping with a stuffed animal, at his age. Greg laughed.
Harry paused, clutching his plush toy Tynamo to his heart, the first toy he'd ever gotten, a mere five months ago, the only toy he'd ever had. But he soon found that Blaise dropped it when Harry smiled back, and laughed with them.
They teased each other playfully about this thing and that, all in good fun. Harry taunted Blaise over the gilded pocket mirror he apparently owned, at which Blaise fell back on Greg's bed, lost in guffaws. Harry was rolling on Greg's bed laughing when a loud shriek shocked the merriment out of them, and made them all sit up in alarm, rotating their heads about to locate the sound's source. Had those rumors about the ghosts of drowned First Year boys been true? But it wasn't past midnight...
Draco jumped from his bed like it was cursed, stumbling into Greg's bed as he wobbled backwards blindly.
Harry followed his line of sight, and there, firm in the center of Draco's bed, on top of the velvet green bedspread, sat one large brown rat.
Blaise raised his eyebrows. "That's peculiar, my mother was a Slytherin... and she didn't mention there being any vermin here in her time." He cracked a crooked smile, "sorry, any of you own a pet rat?"
All three of them shook their head no. Cautiously approaching his bed on tip toe, so as not to scare off the rat, Draco opened one of his bags.
He drew back in horror, fingers clutching a bright orange jumper with a large maroon 'R' on its front.
"You've got an interesting sense of fashion, Draco," said Blaise, standing up from Greg's bed and stepping forward to get a better look at Draco's baggage.
Draco turned a sickly green in the face, the jumper in his hands fell to the floor. "That," he pointed at the bag he had carried down here from the Common Room, "that's not mine!"
"It's alright," Blaise drawled smugly, fishing a pair of bright red socks from Draco's bag, "no need to get embarrassed, I won't judge."
Draco's arms and legs were shaking, his face contorted in horrified anger, he looked like he was barely holding in a fit of rage.
"Ooh, what's this?" Blaise said, finding a red and yellow Quidditch scarf in the bag. "You like Quidditch, Draco?" Blaise giggled, "so do I," he dropped the scarf back in the bag, "but must confess, I support a rather different team."
"Those Weasels," Draco hissed under his breath.
"What's that, Draco?" Blaise blinked innocently, cupping a hand to his ear. "I can't hear you," he taunted.
"They must've switched our luggage," Draco muttered to himself in shock, staring at the orange jumper on the floor.
Blaise clapped his hands. "Classic!" his grin was contagious, and Greg snorted, but somehow Harry couldn't find it in himself to go beyond a smile.
It just didn't feel right. He cast a look at Draco, who gawked at Ron Weasley's bags he'd assumed to be his, shivering with revulsion ...or disgust, Harry couldn't tell which.
Draco still seemed a little unsettled one hour later, when all Slytherin First Years hung out in the Common Room, lounging on sofas. Classes wouldn't start till two days later, so they could safely stay up late tonight and get to know each other. Bed times weren't enforced too strictly on the first weekend before school started.
Greg and Blaise sat on a sofa across from Harry, who was flanked by Pansy and Draco.
"So," Harry said, frowning in wonder, "our Head of House, Professor Snape," the man who had just threatened them all with horrid medieval punishment in case they stepped one foot out of line, "that's our Potions professor?"
Draco dipped his head.
"I'm toast!" Harry covered his face with his hands.
Greg chuckled. "Aww, he's not that bad."
Harry dropped his hands from his face and looked at Greg. "He just took five points from his own House, because my shirt was," Harry air-quoted, "not tucked properly."
Pansy threw her head back giggling, her dark brown hair spilled over the back of the sofa, shining in faint candle light. "Yeah, that was wild!"
"No, seriously Pansy," Blaise weighed in, "Harry's right. Snape must have something against him." He spread his arms, "it just doesn't make sense."
"Yeah," Greg nodded thoughtfully. "If we want to succeed this year, we need to set up a game plan. Losers won't make the Quidditch Team when tryouts start next year, I need to get the grade."
Pansy pursed her lips, leaning forward on her crossed legs. "What do you suggest?"
"First week we discover where everyone's talents lie," Greg proposed, talking with his hands. They all listened. "Then we split the homework, everyone does the subject they're good at, and helps the others out."
Blaise nodded slowly, his full lips twisted into a pleased grin. "I can get behind that."
"What do we do for exams?" Pansy challenged.
Draco sneered at her behind Harry's back. "Please, like I need any help with exams," he chortled, "what is this, Hufflepuff?"
Greg laughed as Pansy turned away with a pout. Draco grinned.
"Yeah, I have to agree with Draco," Blaise said casually, with a neutral expression on his face. "We'll have to face our exams individually," he shrugged, "the penalty for cheating is just too high; it's not worth getting expelled over. What do you think, Harry?"
Everyone turned to look at him. Harry was still getting used to having this much attention.
"Well," Harry puffed his cheeks out, stalling for time so he could think of something sensible to say, "if there was a way to get the exam questions beforehand," he looked around their group.
Pansy waggled her index finger at him. "I like the way you think, Potter."
Harry felt his face heat up. The praise went to his head, he really hadn't said anything that profound.
"Good, we should look into that," Greg rubbed his hands together, "one of us can cozy up to the teachers, sort of feel them out, you know? My brother tells me most tests will be written exams, but it's totally up to the teacher."
Blaise nodded, he cracked a smile. "Pansy seems perfect for an assignment like that," he winked, "she could sweet talk a dragon out of roasting her."
"Hey!" Pansy playfully kicked Blaise.
That was when Harry felt something wet and slimy on his hand... He looked to his right. Draco's wand that had been stashed in the sleeve of his robe, was leaking some peculiar green liquid. It seemed Draco hadn't even noticed this was happening, he looked completely unaware.
A puddle of green goo had formed at Draco's feet.
Someone should tell him. Harry cleared his throat. "Draco?"
"Yeah?"
Harry blinked, his friend truly was not aware what was happening. He'd heard wands could act on their own sometimes, without a Witch or Wizard consciously casting any spells, but he'd never seen it in action.
"Your wand," Harry pointed, "it's leaking."
Draco turned to his wand in alarm. The snotty green mucus started dripping faster.
Pansy giggled into her hand, craning her neck to get a better look, but hiding behind Harry so she wouldn't get pelted by the goo.
Draco frantically waved his wand about, trying and failing at casting a cleaning spell. His wand would not respond. The green slime squirted in all directions, covering the sofas in the Common Room. Some Older Years cast umbrella charms to keep themselves dry, while their fellow First Years ran and ducked for cover behind the backs of sofas.
"Is this..." Greg sampled some of it on his finger, and examined the mucus closer, "snot?" he looked at Draco with a barely contained laugh. "Are you that upset over your baggage getting mixed up?"
Draco froze to the spot.
"You are, aren't you?" Greg exclaimed so the whole Common Room could hear.
The Older Years in the room looked on with secretive smiles of their own. Harry wondered what the Hell he was missing.
"What's he talking about?" Harry whispered to Pansy.
Smirking wide, she filled him in on how Hazel wands worked. They reacted to the wielder's emotions, say if something had really hurt the owner's feelings, the wand would absorb that negative energy, only to randomly discharge at a later point in time. The type of magic discharged depended on the wielder's most recent mood swing or present state of mind. Pansy could hardly contain her merriment when she explained that Draco's wand leaking snots probably meant he'd felt like crying! Over his luggage being lost, of all the things to weep about! Pansy bit back another laugh, no longer disguising her amusement, as now the whole Common Room was roaring with laughter at Draco's predicament.
"Premature ejaculation!" Blaise hooted.
Greg grabbed his own stomach and doubled over with laughter.
Harry smiled awkwardly, he had to admit the whole situation was a little funny. Whoever had pranked Draco and Ron had done a brilliant job of it, but... he could see how having your wand made of Hazel wood put you at a certain disadvantage in this regard. Harry rarely lost his own temper, but when he did, he didn't want everyone to instantly know about it.
Draco stared at his wand in horror, face turning red, as it continued spewing dirty green mucus all over the Common Room.
"Oh calm your tits Draco," said Blaise, "this could be a good thing."
"Right?" Greg joined in, grinning ear to ear.
"If that Weasley ever bothers you again," Pansy said sweetly, "you can just rain snot on him."
They all laughed. That was the final straw.
Draco stood on shaky legs. He placed his wand on the low table between their sofas, straightened himself, and as he turned Harry got a better look of his face: there were tears in his eyes, threatening to spill.
Without a word Draco ran from the Common Room, followed by an eruption of laughter that while joyous, sounded foreign to Harry's ears. He found it impossible to join in, as he sat there, staring in the direction his friend had run off to.
After a while, Draco's wand stopped spewing slime all over the place, but still twitched ominously where it lay on the table.
Pansy exchanged a fretful look with Blaise. "Someone's got to do it," she said.
"Don't look at me!" Blaise laughed, "I'd rather stay as far away from that wand as I can. It's dangerous, spesh when Draco's in one of his moods."
They both turned to look at Greg.
"Nuh uh, not me." Greg said very clearly, shaking his head while holding up his hands.
Harry set his jaw. They couldn't just leave Draco's wand here where anyone could take it, especially if his wand was prone to unpredictable discharge of magic. What if it summoned a flood of water into the Common Room, or set the place on fire? The thing was a safety hazard, they had to return it to Draco immediately.
So he reached for the table and picked it up at the wand's hilt, careful to avoid touching the tip. To everyone's surprise, nothing happened to him. Draco's wand stopped twitching the second Harry grabbed it in his hand.
As he left the Common Room down the corridor he'd seen Draco disappear in, he heard Older Years cast cleaning spells behind him. Two corridors further, Harry couldn't tell which way to go... it was left or right, either one seemed equally probable.
Harry felt a strong force pull at his arm, the one that held Draco's wand. He stared at his hand, amazed. Draco's wand seemed to be tugging him to the left... so he went that way. At every junction, a similar thing happened. The wand seemed to guide the way to where Draco was hiding.
He found him crying in a locked bathroom stall, the loud sobs were impossible to miss.
"Go away," Draco told him as soon as he saw Harry's shoes under the stall door.
But Harry didn't. He stayed and waited, saying nothing at all.
The sobs behind the stall door grew quieter, as though Draco felt uneasy crying in front of him. Less than five minutes had passed before Draco flicked the bolt, and the door slowly creaked open.
Draco sat on top of the toilet lid, fully dressed in the grey formal robes he'd worn this morning on the train. His silvery tie was askew, the cut on his right cheek still bled, and his whole face was wet with tears. Green snot dribbled from his nose, onto his upper lip... the napkin wrung in his hands wasn't white any longer.
Harry stepped forward, meaning to place a hand on his shoulder, when Draco said:
"You have my wand."
His pumice gray eyes, wide from crying, seemed to zero in on the wand in Harry's left hand. Draco looked... scared? But what would he be afraid of? Harry didn't understand.
He held the wand out to Draco for the second time today, motioning for him to take it, but Draco turned his face away.
"No," his voice sounded sore, "just do it."
Do what?
"Just do it already and be done with it."
Draco wasn't making any sense. What, what did he want Harry to do?
"Blaise will be wowed." Draco squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself, as if he expected Harry to hit him.
All Harry could do was stare. Since when had he become the bully? This was Dudley's territory, not something Harry engaged in. He'd never harmed another kid in his life! Why... why was Draco so scared?
Harry looked at the wand in his hand, then back to his friend. "I'm not going to hex you or anything," he started carefully, lowering the wand he hadn't realized he'd raised. "Take your wand Draco, this belongs to you."
He stepped inside the bathroom stall and pressed the wand into Draco's hand.
Draco cracked one eye open. "But... but it's Slytherin House tradition," he looked totally thrown.
"I don't give a damn about stupid traditions that get people hurt!" Harry shouted before Draco could get another word in.
"Come on, get up."
He grabbed Draco's left wrist and pulled him to his feet. They swayed a little before gaining steady footing, since Draco was both taller and heavier than him. Moving Draco to the wash basin, he turned away to give him some privacy.
"Thank you," a soft voice spoke through streaming water.
Harry turned. Draco had his head under the tap, he was looking at him.
"You should probably punch me in the jaw though, to make it look real."
Harry's mouth fell open. "What?"
Author's Note:
Just a head's up, Draco is not being nice because he's nice. He's acting that way around Harry because he's smart and knows that Harry is a very powerful Wizard, so he wants to turn Harry into an ally.
Ron is acting so sullen because when he sees Harry hanging around 'That Malfoy Monster', he jumps to conclusions and assumes Harry has already taken Draco's side.
The Malfoys and The Weasleys have been embroiled in a drawn-out family feud over the last five years, ever since the marriage deal between Draco Malfoy and Ginevra Weasley was broken by their parents due to some disagreements (back when Draco was six and Ginny was five years old), and Ron and Draco, being close in age, see each other as rivals.
When Ron sees the famous Harry Potter sitting casually in that train compartment with his arch nemesis That Malfoy Monster, he gets angry and doesn't even consider trying to befriend Harry.
Ron also doesn't really feel the need to make 'strong alliances' since he feels pretty confident being part of the large Weasley clan, having so many brothers already attending the same school, and with their dad heading the Ministry of Magic.
I've taken some liberties with the canon characters since it didn't make sense to me that the rascally Weasley brothers would abstain at all times from using magic out of school, so Ron must have picked up something from his older brothers. It didn't make sense to me that canon Hermione is leagues ahead of her classmates in magic, since she has no Wizarding parents, and I don't see why Wizarding families, especially the Pure-bloods, wouldn't privately tutor their own children years before they went to Hogwarts, putting them at an advantage right from the start... Hermione is smart, but she's disadvantaged in a system that works against her. Realistically, it would take her awhile to become top of her class, and she would be playing catch up throughout the First Year.
Also, Voldy is really really dead in this story, so... no more Death Eaters, no more Dark Marks, no Horcruxes, there's none of that. Harry's magic actually stopped Voldy for good in this universe, so he's the new big shot in town: everyone who hasn't heard of Sybill's prophecy regarding the child destined to bring Voldy to an end (which would be most people), believes Harry to be some super powerful Wizard with great potential for magic. And maybe he is ;-)