Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.
"Took you long enough," Aquila remarked when her brother finally returned to the compartment. "What happened with Potter?"
"Nothing, he just ran into me," said Phineas, settling into his seat beside her.
"Klodsmajor," muttered Astoria.
"Congratulations, you've expanded your vocabulary by one word," he said, looking amused. "And he didn't really seem like a simpleton. Not much of one, at least."
Astoria snorted in clear disbelief.
"He did lead that defense club last year," said Daphne from her corner, and then idly turned the page of her magazine. Although she didn't have much interest in fashion, she had grown bored of staring out the window. "Rumor has it he even taught them the Patronus Charm."
Phineas waved this away. "Everyone at Durmstrang learns it by their third year. There's a lot of Dementors around the old concentration camps, so we have to know how to defend ourselves."
Astoria tilted her head and frowned. "What's a concentration camp?"
Both Phineas and Aquila openly stared at her. After a moment, when she continued blinking at them in confusion, they turned to Daphne. She shook her head slightly, not in exasperation of her sister's question, but in similar bafflement. She didn't recognize the term, either.
"And this is why it was so easy for You-Know-Who to take over," said Phineas, amazement ringing in his voice. "No one even recognized the correlation to Nazism."
"What's Nazism?" asked Daphne.
Aquila let out a string of curses in Danish, and although Daphne didn't understand most of it, she recognized the words for 'stupid' and 'pig'. Phineas' expression indicated that he shared his sister's sentiment. In fact, it seemed to imply that Daphne and Astoria were the stupid pigs.
Since Slughorn had called for him to stay behind, Harry missed the opportunity to spy on Malfoy's group. He glanced inside the Slytherin compartment as he passed by it, though, and was certain from Malfoy's expression that he was bragging about his new Death Eater duties.
"He gave up his Prefect position," Ron pointed out when Harry mentioned it to his friends. "It's pretty suspicious, don't you think?"
Harry nodded, grateful that they all seemed to agree with him. He did note, however, that Hermione looked a little doubtful, as if she couldn't quite believe a teenager would willingly join the Death Eaters. It really shouldn't be so surprising to her, though. Malfoy had been gleeful when the basilisk was wandering the school. Of any student, he would be at the top of the list for suspected Death Eater.
Later that night, the Opening Feast went as expected. Harry wished he could say he was surprised when it was announced that Slughorn would be taking over Potions. The next day, it was with heavy footsteps that he headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Excluding last year with Umbridge, Harry had always looked forward to this class. Even when Lockhart taught it, Harry had found the class amusing, if irritating. Now, however, he could not see himself ever possibly loving the class again. Snape had soured it too much for him, and seemed to take a malicious enjoyment in doing so. He'd gone so far as trying to jinx Harry, and when Harry retaliated, he ended up with detention for defending himself. It made Harry wonder how often Snape had purposefully provoked James, too. Lupin and Sirius had told him the fights weren't one-sided, and after the latest incident, Harry could believe them.
"Great," Ron muttered when they were dismissed. "Yet again we're being taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by a Death Eater."
"He's reformed," Hermione said, sounding like she was reciting the words.
Harry stared at her. "Hermione, you grew up in the Muggle world, too. You know none of Snape's actions would be acceptable there."
"Well, yes, but that's the Muggle world," she responded archly, and then marched ahead of them.
Shaking his head, Harry followed her down to the dungeons for their Potions lesson. Although he'd achieved only an Exceeds Expectations, Slughorn had changed the requirement to let more students take the class. As they set up their cauldrons, Hermione confided this was probably a good move on Slughorn's part. Several fields, like that of Aurors and Healing, required a N.E.W.T. in Potions, and in a time of war, the society needed more people in those particular fields.
"Rather like your father, then," Slughorn clucked when he saw Harry's potion. "He never made much of an effort at potions. I never understood why, his own father was an expert Brewer…"
At this, Harry felt a dichotomy of emotions. He liked having something in common with his father, but he had to wonder if his mother would be disappointed in his lack of skills.
Slughorn moved on to Hermione's cauldron and beamed.
"Why Ms. Granger, this is excellent!" He glanced at Harry, his eyes shining with excitement. "Mr. Potter, is this the Muggle-born friend you mentioned?"
"She is, sir," Harry said, grinning as Hermione flushed and accepted the Felix Felicis from the professor.
Across the room, Malfoy made a ridiculous face as he mimicked Harry. Letting his gaze drift over the other Slytherins, Harry was surprised to note Daphne Greengrass among them, and she was watching Malfoy's antics with disapproval. She wrinkled her nose when Pansy began fawning over Malfoy.
"Next time, neither of you can copy from my book," said Hermione as they left the classroom.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, neither us knew we'd even be in the class. You can't lecture us for not being prepared."
"Be that as it may, I still expect you to get your own books," she sniffed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some studying to do."
As she walked away, swaying slightly from the weight of her bag, Ron and Harry exchanged a look behind her back. Then as one, they turned to head in the opposite direction.
"I won!" Ron cheered, throwing his arms into the air for emphasis. "Bow down to your king, Potter!"
With a groan, Harry fell back into his seat and covered his eyes. He could hear Ron humming as he set up the chess board again. No one payed them much attention, as they were in one of the common areas for students to gather.
"I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it," Harry muttered. "You always win."
"You're just jealous," Ron said smugly.
Privately, Harry agreed. Ron could have done well in Slytherin. Not only did he possess a large amount of ambition, but he could be cunning, too. Unfortunately, Gryffindor was not the place to cultivate either of those traits.
If I were cunning and ambitious, Harry thought, his gaze drifting to the other side of the room where a girl sat alone, her light golden blonde hair falling in a curtain over her book, then I'd be in Slytherin…
"Oi." Ron snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face, jerking him out of the strange contemplation. "Why're you staring at that snake? I thought you liked my sister."
Harry blinked. "I do?"
"Wait, was that a question or an affirmation?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowing. "Because if it was the latter one, then we need to talk."
"We don't," Harry hastened to assure him. "I have no intentions of ever dating Ginny."
After making that statement, Harry looked away from his friend, in case Ron took offense. Harry thought Ginny was very pretty, but he'd never be able to see her as more than Ron's sister. It'd be like dating the female version of Ron, which was disturbing when he thought about it.
For a moment, Ron continued to stare at him suspiciously, as if he didn't quite believe Harry's words. Finally, he sighed and nodded, offering Harry a small smile. "That's good then. I mean, I wouldn't mind having you as a brother-in-law, but it'd be kind of weird, wouldn't it?"
"Definitely," Harry agreed, trying to control his grimace.
Sprawling in his chair, Ron stretched out his long limbs and let out an exaggerated yawn. Then he glanced at his wrist-watch and his eyes widened. Leaping to his feet, he began hastily shoving the chess pieces into his bag.
"Sorry, Harry, I have to meet Hermione for patrolling. Can we finish the essay later?"
"Yeah, have fun," Harry said, dismissing him with a wave.
Ron snorted. "Oh yes, I'll be having lots of fun," he said sarcastically. "See you, Harry."
"Give Malfoy a detention if you can," Harry called after him, and Ron waved a hand in acknowledgement.
Left alone, Harry stared down at his essay. He'd only written about an inch before Ron suggested a break and pulled out the old chess set. Harry had been far too willing to take part in the distraction. His only other option would have staring at Greengrass. Something about her family made him want to investigate them, which wasn't good considering Malfoy was likely a Death Eater and Harry needed to focus on him. Not to mention, Dumbledore would be giving Harry private lessons, so he couldn't really afford to be preoccupied by something else. Unless the mystery presented itself in his face, he wouldn't be looking into it.
With a scowl, Harry bunched up his short essay and then began tearing it into small pieces. He wondered why Dumbledore hadn't given him these lessons last year, before Sirius died. That would have been far more beneficial, especially compared to the torture sessions with Snape.
In retrospection, the offer of lessons seemed almost like a conciliatory effort, as if to make up for never helping Sirius and for making Harry suffer as well. Harry wasn't sure he'd accept the peace offering, though. Just because he'd forced himself to move on from Sirius' death didn't mean he'd forgiven Dumbledore.