See chapter 1 for disclaimers/warnings/summaries.
PREVIOUSLY:
Jones. Megan Jones.
She was a Hufflepuff in his same year and a prefect, who sometimes joined the study parties with the Ravenclaws. Harry swallowed. He didn't know much about Megan, except that she was friendly to nearly everyone in true, typical Hufflepuff nature and she didn't appear to be a pureblood. She turned her attention to the little parcel from earlier and began to unwrap it.
Harry shifted uncomfortably and looked away.
He'd been hoping for a quiet ride too.
"Harry, isn't it?" The girl spoke, after a long silence between them. "Harry Potter? I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced." She said, formally. "Meagan Jones, Hufflepuff. We share the same year."
Harry's head snapped back around to stare at her. Of course, his creature inheritance had healed every single mark on his body except for the only one that he'd wished it had. That stupid cursed lightning bolt. It was probably the only thing that would haunt him for the rest of his life—at least, at present. He eyed the girl warily, mentally making a running set of notes in his head. She'd probably placed him at once after seeing the scar. No wonder she'd drawn the blinds. She probably couldn't believe her good fortune of finding the famous Boy-Who-Lived all to herself.
The Hufflepuff was watching him curiously, but didn't seem to hold anything but genuine interest on her behalf, even as she prompted for a formal introduction.
No hidden intentions that he could discern, at least, not like Draco Malfoy had on that fateful first ride to Hogwarts.
Harry hesitated. Something had always bothered him about that—as if he'd managed to somehow jinx himself and start their rivalry by ignoring the polite gesture of a handshake on that day. Of course, there was no way he would've been able to take that hand—not after Malfoy had insulted the Weasleys, but Ron had very little to do with it.
Harry just couldn't stand bullies—and Malfoy had all but physically cut Ron down to 'size'. He couldn't have ignored that.
The silence in the little compartment strained a bit longer than was strictly polite.
Megan's smile slightly dimmed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." She turned away with a slight tilt of her head, attention returning to her little partially unwrapped parcel.
Harry opened and shut his mouth. He just didn't feel like talking much, though the calm and polite aura surrounding the girl managed to gift him a nice little guilt trip. She hadn't pried beyond anything but to verify who he was. He almost sighed and mentally reviewed what he knew of Hufflepuffs and a familiar named Jones. He didn't know too much, just that she was kind to just about everyone, regardless of house and sometimes helped Madam Prince in the library, a position that Hermione was insanely jealous of and was good with the younger year students, a boon to her position as a prefect. It was said that she came from a large family and her skills in Ancient Runes were admirable.
Beyond that, Harry couldn't recall much more. He was rarely able to keep up with all the news in the wizarding world—especially during the summer when he lost contact with virtually everyone and everything the moment he returned to the Dursley's. It didn't help that Miss Megan Jones probably didn't do anything worthy of mention in a wizarding newspaper, even if he had access, he wouldn't have learned much from it.
Well, anything useful, anyway, he amended.
The rest of his wits caught up to him and Harry reminded himself that Megan had politely apologized and gone back to her own things. He mentally backtracked, something he had been working on over the summer and retrieved her original question. Oh, right. He didn't have to answer to that, but it would be proper to.
"I am." He managed. Then blinked. "Potter, I mean." The words tangled up. "I am Harry Potter. Sorry."
Megan looked up and her smile brightened again, the expression lighting up her face. "No need to apologize. I didn't mean to pry. I thought it was you, because your hair always sticks up like so." She made a motion with her hands. "And you're the only one I know of who wears glasses, but you aren't wearing them now, so I thought I might have had you wrong." She grinned. "It is a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance." The grey eyes softened as she inclined her head. "May I inquire as to how was your summer? I had a wonderful time at home, though it has put me back on my homework." She gestured to the open textbooks and scroll of parchment before her. "They had a send-off party for me last night and it would've been rude to refuse because of homework, so now I have to finish it up here." She shook her arm out and flexed her wrist. "I forgot how hard it is to write on a moving train." She said, ruefully. "Did you finish all of yours?"
He couldn't believe she'd noticed. Someone who he'd barely taken notice of had watched him close enough to know how his hair stuck up and that he always wore glasses. Harry swallowed hard. They were trivial clues, but no one had ever said that to his face before. He didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
Something sounded off in the back of his mind and Harry immediately pounced on the mental distraction. His new instincts screamed at him to be careful and alert. Out of habit, he took a cautious sniff of his own and his brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle out what his instincts were telling him.
He'd gotten a teeny bit of practice in the past week—once he'd figured out that he could distinguish most scents—and had been able to pick up when his relatives were lying through their teeth, when they were terrified of him and when he ought to run. At the moment, the reaction filtering through him after a good whiff of Megan's scent had him relaxing. His Dragel body processed the scent as something familiar and soothing—something that he didn't have to be afraid of, regardless of whether Harry agreed with it or not. It also had a slightly sweet scent—one that Harry couldn't quite place. He really needed to find more information on this Dragel thing.
"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" Megan's voice took on a worried tone.
The question was completely unexpected.
Really unexpected.
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Are. You. Alright?" Megan repeated, this time with deliberate emphasis to each word. Her brow furrowed in concern, but there was no bite to the words though, only a genuine curiosity. "You seemed to disappear on me for a moment there. Looking a bit lost and all. Do excuse me for asking. I don't mean to be rude."
"I'm fine." Harry bit off, unable to help himself for giving the curt reply. He didn't like the fact that the girl might've picked up on his current state of confusion—nor did he think it was anyone's business how he was really feeling. Miss Megan Jones could take her nosy questions and jump out the train window if she liked—as far as Harry was concerned, no one but his circle had the right to know how he was really feeling and—oh Merlin!
The thought had Harry consciously digging his hands into his oversized jeans with a death grip. He was thinking of a circle—Merlin's beard! He hadn't even met any potential mates or—no, he wasn't going to let his head go in that direction. It'd only been a few weeks—okay, a month—if he counted correctly and surely that wasn't enough time to leave him thinking of things like Dragel circles and mateships and—Harry swallowed hard. He was sixteen! Sixteen! That was not old enough for this kind of…thing.
A soft groan slipped through his lips. Harry mentally resisted the urge to bang his head against the back of the train seat.
"I am glad then." Megan said, quietly. She didn't seem to notice the groan, or if she did, was too polite to call attention to it. She fiddled around with her assignments and parchments before finally drawing out a large, hardcover book with gilded pages and scripted writing on the cover and spine.
A soft whoosh of energy rolled off of the tome and Harry realized it as being a special protected book. He'd heard of those. Herimone had often indulged in daydreams of owning or being allowed to read one. Harry had only half-listened to her.
He squinted slightly, drawing on his new, enhanced sight to make out the title of the book. It was a giant encyclopedia of magical creatures. Harry felt his mouth grow dry. He didn't recall that title in all his searching through the bookstore catalogues. Though from the very feeling of old, ancient magic that radiated from it, he could guess that the book might be a family heirloom—after all, most protected books were—at least, according to Hermione anyway.
A slight tingle rippled through him and Harry wished he could read it. The magic already left a rather pleasant feeling behind and Harry knew that there would be nothing dark inside of it or nothing harmful anyway. Not that he expected anything less from a Hufflepuff.
They sat in silence for a bit.
The snack trolley went by and Megan didn't look up, obviously engrossed in her readings, grey eyes roving methodically across the page, her lips occasionally forming the words she read.
Harry's stomach rumbled and he stood up to purchase a few snacks. He wouldn't be able to wait until dinner in the Great Hall if he didn't get something now. The ache in his stomach reminded him that sweets weren't really what he wanted, but it was the only option he had right now. So Harry purchased quite an armful and carried the sweets back to his seat and proceeded to devour practically all of them, pushing away the thought that he was literally gorging himself of pure sugar.
"That's quite a bit of sugar." Megan commented. She looked up from her book at last, an expression of amusement painted plainly across her face. She rummaged through her wrapped parcel bundle drew out another wrapped chunk of something that she unshrunk and then proceeded to unwrap yet again.
Harry's mouth watered as he caught the scent of blood and fresh meat. Not the packaged, processed stuff, not the lightly roasted kind, just the real thing—as fresh as possible. His head popped up and he found himself staring at neat skewers in a row, with rich pink and red cubes strung through it. He could see a preservation charm and a scent charm that immediately cut off the delicious wafts from blowing over to his side of the compartment. His teeth and gums ached, a warning that his fangs were threatening to make and appearance. It took a supreme effort of self-control for Harry to will them away, but he couldn't help staring after the neatly cubed skewers. It didn't even occur to him to wonder what on earth a girl was doing with skewers of raw meat in her traveling satchel.
Out of the corner of her eye, Megan's light eyebrows arched upwards into her hairline as she took in the very obvious expression on Harry's face. "Shall I trade you one for a chocolate frog?" She suggested. Throwing him a figurative lifeline as the torn look on his face indicated his want and then his reluctance to ask for himself. Harry simply stared and said nothing. Megan hesitated for a moment, feeling a slight pull to rescue the boy from what would be a socially awkward moment if there were others present. She was familiar with the little nuances of the wizarding world, her pureblooded father made sure of it, especially the social games played in the pureblooded circles. Games she was loath to play regardless of position and prestige.
She could tell with a glance that Harry Potter didn't play those games—visual confirmation for those particular rumors had been wonderful—and it didn't take a Ravenclaw to figure it out. It was nice to know that the purported savior of their world didn't just take things at face value.
"I don't mind." She coaxed.
Harry blinked as the words registered and then looked at the scattering of empty wrappers. A soft whine of distress slipped through his lips as he rifled through the mess. There really weren't any real leftovers, except for maybe a few half-eaten bites that he'd overlooked in his haste to fill his stomach. He missed the look that flitted over the girl's face.
Megan's eyes darkened by several degrees from a smooth grey to a nearly grey-black. The whine of distress from Harry prompted a response in the way of the soft sound she made in the back of her throat, a response that served to smooth over the furrow in the boy's brow.
Harry's head of messy hair snapped up and for a moment, he smiled, before the expression turned bewildered as if he couldn't understand where the urge to smile had come from.
Megan snagged two skewers from her unusual pile of munchies and offered him two.
Harry hesitated. "Would you take a rain check on the chocolate frogs?" He asked, even as he reached for the jerky. He had to have it—rain check or not. He hoped she wouldn't mind. He didn't think she would, but then again, things never really went his way.
"Rain check?" She was thoughtful for a moment as if trying to remember.
"Er…it's a muggle expression."
"Ah." She brightened. "Knew I'd heard it somewhere."
"It means that, I'll get it for you later?"
"That's fine." She cheerfully handed over the skewers. "Make it two frogs, an even trade, yes?" She then took one for herself and settled down again, rifling through her satchel for another book. She happened to catch Harry's lingering gaze on the previous book, but didn't say anything else, only offering another tentative smile.
They arrived at Hogwarts and Megan caught his arm as he reached for the compartment door.
"Wait a moment." She explained, in answer to Harry's unspoken question.
"Why?"
"Slytherin territory, remember? We need to give them a moment to get off first. They won't bother you if they don't see you, but if they do, well, they've a reputation to uphold, you know?" She leaned forward, listening. A moment later, Harry could hear Malfoy's voice ordering Crabbe and Goyle to clear a pathway for him through the usual gaggle of students.
Harry found himself subconsciously mimicking the action of leaning forward and he flinched at the amplified voice of Draco Malfoy. His new senses sometimes gave him a headache, it was hard to remember to be careful with them. He winced and readjusted the sense, waiting. The customary arrogance he was used to hearing from Malfoy was rather subdued and almost non-existent as he directed his cronies past and followed in their wake. It seemed as if it were merely a matter of course than the pleasurable pastime that the blond often indulged in.
Soon they were on the ground and making their way to the carriages. Harry sucked in a breath as he saw the thestrals. A painful stab in his chest reminded him of the reason why he could see the creatures in the first place and he sucked in a breath and blew it out forcefully.
He didn't need to dwell on that now. There were other things to be worrying and thinking about. He looked around, searching for the heads of red hair that always helped to center his world. When he didn't see Ron or Hermione's usual bushy head of brown hair, he frowned.
"Something wrong, Harry?" Megan trotted beside him, coming to a stop beside on empty carriage. She threw the satchel over and hefted herself easily up into the seat. "You can ride with me if you like. I don't mind."
A/N: And there's Megan. I've tried not to make her "too" hufflepuff-ish, even though she is a Hufflepuff. Do review-and I will take some votes/suggestions for pairings as long as they are NOT Ginny/Hermione/Cho or Fleur.
Thanks for reading!
