Hey guys! So I'm back with another chapter. It's a pretty long one too. I'm really glad I finished it today because I didn't think I would get it up until Thursday otherwise. So there's more Hermione in this chapter. Not as much as I wanted, but some, so at least there's that. I really, really wanted to include a few other things (like more Hermione) but then the timeline would be all weird and I would have skipped over some pretty important events like the first Novice race and I didn't want to do that. Also, if I still did include it, it would probably be at least a 15,000 word chapter and I very clearly wasn't about to do that. But don't you worry; big things are coming to Fortune Favors the Bold.
I wanted to include more of Harry actually doing magic in this one too, so I'm glad I got that in.
Also, if you guys are wondering about the timeline, I'm at about mid-October now.
I hope you guys enjoy!
XXXX
"Mr. Kasinger, how have you fared?" Harry jerked abruptly in class. He had been talking quietly with Blaise. Harry was decent enough at Transfiguration and with help from Blaise, had burned through the Transfiguration lesson easily. It was the third part to the lesson; they had been working on turning a match into a needle for about a week now. The first day had been largely unsuccessful, with the exception of Hermione Granger. The second day was when the majority of the successes took place and the third was to turn the needle back into the match.
"I turned the needle back." Harry said to McGonagall. She was standing by their table, peering down at Blaise and Harry, who were certainly not talking about Transfiguration.
"Really? Why don't you show me?" She suggested, raising an eyebrow. "Turn your match into a needle and back again."
"O-okay?" Harry didn't know why McGonagall was pressing him all of a sudden, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was to do with the trouble he'd gotten into recently. McGonagall had an unspoken policy; troublemakers would be troublemakers, but she would only tolerate mischievous behavior and give her students the benefit of the doubt as long as they proved themselves to her as intelligent and hard-working. Harry had initially earned McGonagall's trust by telling her the truth, but with the recent Filch incident, Harry figured she needed a little more reassurance.
He focused on the match in front of him, thinking of what Blaise had said.
"Transfiguration is fluid." Blaise said. "You can't think of a match as just a match. All objects can become something else. Current existence does not mean permanent existence. Everything is fleeting" Harry snorted.
"That sounds deep." Blaise rolled his eyes.
"Just transfigure your damn match."
Harry stared at his match, waving his wand over it. He imagined it melting and reforming as a needle, shiny and silver, glinting in the light. so thin it sometimes got stuck between the grooves on the wooden table.
He blinked, and in a moment, the needle had replaced the match.
"Nice job, Mr. Kasinger." McGonagall approved of his work. "But can you change it back?" Changing it back was not all that hard; Harry used the same method and soon enough, he had his match back. McGonagall put her hands on her hips, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Is that sufficient?"
"More than. I daresay you beat out Miss Granger for mastery right now." Harry jerked a thumb at his partner.
Blatant house favoritism. What everyone was thinking, but no one said.
"Honestly, you're probably thinking of Blaise." McGonagall looked curiously at the quiet Slytherin.
"Well, then congratulations to you, Mr. Zabini."
"Thank you, Professor." McGonagall nodded, a brief expression of unease flitting across her face.
"Mr. Kasinger, I wanted to talk to you about the upcoming Quidditch season." Harry blinked up at his professor.
"First years aren't allowed to play, though." McGonagall nodded.
"I know. But I saw your flying the other day with Mr. Weasley, Mr. Finnegan, and Mr. Thomas. I just wanted to comment on your speed and maneuverability. It was remarkable, not just for a first year. You might give some older players a run for their money."
"Thanks, Professor." McGonagall smiled.
"You should go talk to Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team captain and definitely consider trying out next year. We've been looking for a good seeker and I'm confident you'd make the team, with skills like that." McGonagall looked positively giddy at the prospect. "In fact, I may even be able to work something out to let you play this year, if you were interested." McGonagall was very clearly hoping that Harry was interested. Harry glanced at Blaise, whose face held an indiscernible expression. Harry had an idea about what it meant, though.
"Yeah, I've already talked to Fred and George about it. Angelina too, she thinks I'd be a good player. But I'm not really interested in Quidditch, to be honest. And I don't think it would be fair to the other first years who would like to play, especially since I have no interest or background in flying or Quidditch."
Harry watched as McGonagall's face fell, feeling a bit smug. Harry understood that McGonagall wanted her house to succeed, but it wasn't fair. The other houses didn't get these kinds of exceptions to the rules. And within the house, what about people like Ron, who would be more than happy to play and knew all there was to know about Quidditch?
Harry could tell Blaise was satisfied, without even looking at the boy next to him. Blaise had never said much about house rivalries or bias, but Harry could tell the other boy's opinions burned bright and strong. Blaise never had to say anything.
"That's...that's very...mature of you, Mr. Kasinger." McGonagall said, crestfallen at his response. "You should still look into it next year, though. You might find you enjoy it and the team would be happy to have you." She cleared her throat and swept off to talk with the other students.
"Well, that wasn't awkward at all." Blaise muttered, rolling his shoulders. Harry rubbed his jaw.
"It could have gone worse."
"You're not wrong." Blaise cocked an eyebrow at Harry. "Do you actually...like Quidditch?"
"Eh." Ron had taught Harry and they played for a bit with the other boys, but Harry didn't really see the appeal. Sure it was fun to play a game of pick-up Quidditch, but the extremity of Quidditch culture didn't make any sense to Harry. "It's alright."
"Thanks, for saying no." Blaise muttered, staring at his feet.
"I didn't do it for you."
"I know...but thanks anyways."
"Do you like Quidditch? I think that's the real question here." Harry teased him. Blaise didn't seem all that keen on flying. Blaise looked at him, wide-eyed.
"Merlin, no. It's stupid."
"Flying or Quidditch."
"Both." Harry considered this.
"Fair point. I like flying, though. I mean, like I can recognize how incredibly stupid the sport is. I mean, broomsticks? How cliche can you get? And I don't really understand how all the mechanics work in the first place, but I still like it, I think. A lot." Blaise shrugged.
"You're good at it. A natural."
"I really don't think that's a thing. People keep telling me that, but I don't think that's a thing." Blaise exhaled, shaking his head and smiling.
"It's okay, you know, to be good at something and be proud of it."
"Me? Good at things? Talent?" Harry made a face. "No, no, no. That's not a thing. I cause trouble. That's about it."
"You're pretty decent at magic."
"With lots of help. You included." Harry pointed out. He wasn't a good student by design. Never had been, and never would be and he didn't expect that to change the moment he got invited to some fancy-schmancy boarding school. Not that he was the worst student there; but he would never be a master at these things. He managed in Charms and Transfiguration; Potions was an absolute trainwreck. Herbology and Astronomy didn't actually have much to do with magic and Harry would probably never get a chance to try his hand at Defense Against the Dark Arts with Quirrell around. Though, rumor was that they got a new DADA teacher every year. Something to do with a curse on the position.
Yeah right. Harry would believe it when he saw it.
"So you're not a master of it. But you're still good, especially for a first year." Blaise gestured around the room. "Most of these kids have lived their entire lives around magic. There is no way that the first spell they ever tried was here at Hogwarts. That gives them an unfair advantage and you should know that." Harry carded a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, but look at Granger." Blaise rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.
"She does not count." Harry glanced over at the bushy-haired girl in question. He struggled to get along with her. Deep down, he knew that she was having a hard time making friends and finding her place in this entirely new world. He knew that he should cut her some more slack, talk to her, help her out. She didn't have the opportunities he'd had so far and he should talk to her, Muggleborn to Muggleborn since clearly, no one had.
But she could be so frustrating. She had to know everything about magic. She had to correct every single thing he said. She had to make it clear how much more advanced she was than everybody else in the class. Harry often wondered if she even knew she was doing these things, with the way they came so naturally to her. Maybe she thought that if she showed some kind of expertise, she would be accepted by all the lowkey blood supremacists. The school was filled with them; Harry had even caught Ron saying bigoted things. Not intentionally or cruelly. It was just what he'd been taught.
Harry rubbed his forehead.
"How's she settling in, anyways?" Blaise inquired.
"About as well as you probably think."
"Ah." Harry leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cool tabletop.
"I know I should try to talk to her. Make an effort. But she makes it so hard sometimes."
"Y'know, I feel the exact same way about Malfoy." Harry rolled his head to look at Blaise, cheek still pressed around the table. Blaise had a thoughtful expression plastered across his face. "Like, I know he's actually not that bad of a kid and if someone got him to stop acting like a spoiled brat, he'd be halfway decent, but..." Harry sighed.
"They make it so hard to help them." He banged his head against the table a few times. "Really though, as fellow students, and you and Malfoy fellow purebloods, the nicest thing to do would probably be to head them off now. Give them a few years down the line and they'll be insufferable and lonely if no one makes an effort with them."
"I'll give it a shot if you give it a shot." Blaise said ominously.
"This is like a frickin' blood promise or some shit. I feel like I'm selling my soul."
"You suggested it."
"I know." He glanced over to Granger one more time; she was talking to McGonagall, stars in her eyes, excitedly pointing out her newest Transfiguration achievement. McGonagall was looking approvingly down at her, but Harry could see the expression on her table partner's face. Resentful and annoyed.
When McGonagall left, Granger turned to talk to her partner, still obviously excited, but was met with nothing but silence. Her partner, a short, dark-haired Gryffindor, folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, not meeting Granger's eyes. Her jaw was set and she was staring down at her own needle accusingly. Granger attempted to talk to her for a little while longer, before it became clear to even her that her partner wasn't interested in talking. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at her feet, small and out of place in the cheery, talkative classroom.
Christ, I've gotta do something.
XXXX
"Hey Granger!" Harry called down the hall. They had just been leaving Potions after another humiliating lesson. Granger had walked off alone, hugging her books to her chest, bushy hair making her stand out amongst the crowd of first years. Harry had split off from Blaise as the dark-skinned Slytherin went after Malfoy and Harry went after Granger. "Granger!" He called out again. The small girl stopped, whirling her head around, searching for the source. She finally spotted Harry behind her, and he waved as he darted through students to catch up.
"Hadrian?" She asked.
"Just call me Harry." She nodded, blinking at him owlishly.
"Can I help you with something?"
"Yeah, actually. I was wondering if you'd help me with the Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. I'm terrible with all the book stuff and Quirrell doesn't really help." Granger's face lit up like a Christmas tree, before she scrunched her nose.
"Are you sure you don't need help in Potions?"
"Oh, thanks." A look of panic crossed her face. Granger had a tendency to speak before she thought it through and this was a textbook example.
"No! No, that's not what I meant, I'm so sorry-," Harry cut her off.
"No, it's alright. I understand." Harry was abysmal at Potions and Quirrell wasn't exactly a hard grader. "It just doesn't really matter how I do in Potions, Snape'll probably fail me anyways. Quirrell, on the other hand, might actually pass me." Granger nodded enthusiastically.
"Of course I'll help. When do you want to meet?"
"Does Wednesday sound good to you?" She smiled.
"Common room or library?"
"Either is fine." She considered this.
"We'll probably want to work in the library, just so we can look things up if we need to." Damnit. Should have said common room. That way I can show people she's social and nice and they'll stop avoiding her.
Too late now.
"Okay then. Does after dinner work?" Harry asked. She nodded, bushy hair flying. "Okay then. I'll meet you there." She nodded again, eyes wide, still clutching her books to her chest. "See you later, Granger. Thanks." Harry walked down the hall to lunch. He could practically hear the poor girl hyperventilating behind him. He didn't want to think that was one of the first positive interactions she'd had with her fellow housemates, but it probably was. He cringed at the thought.
XXXX
"What's up with Cedric?" Harry asked. "I've seen him in the Hospital Wing twice now."
"Were you in the Hospital Wing?" Neville asked, alarmed. "Are you okay?" Harry shook his head.
"Nah, I just work there. Detentions. Can't serve them with Snape, can't serve them with Filch, and apparently Hagrid's detentions aren't safe enough for first years. So they stuck me with Madam Pomfrey." He explained, shoveling some food in his mouth.
"What do you do?" Ron asked, brow furrowing "Is it that bad?" Harry shrugged.
"Not really. She's nice to me. I mostly just take inventory, order new items. I help her with patients sometimes. Nothing serious, but like, I can bandage wounds. She's taught me a few things."
"Oh." Ron said. "And you don't mind?" Harry shrugged again.
"Not really. I mean, it's hard work but it's manageable."
"Healer Harry, on his way." Fred said with a grin, punching Harry in the shoulder. Harry rolled his eyes.
"If you want a cut closed or a scrape cleaned, I'm your man. Anything beyond that is out of my hands."
"That's cool." Dean said. Harry made a face.
"No, really." Neville added. "That's actually really cool and useful. You could save people's lives."
"I don't know if I have the temperament for that." Harry said doubtfully, tilting his head to the side. "My bedside manner sucks."
"Maybe some people need that. Someone to be straight with them." Seamus suggested.
"That's years away, anyways. But seriously though, I leave Pomfrey's and Sprout's everyday carrying tons of extra herbs and potions." Harry hauled his bag up from the floor. "Look! I went to give this to Pomfrey one day and she just gave it back and told me to keep it for myself. I think she's trying to convince me to stay on with her, even when my detentions are up." Harry named them as he pulled them out. "Blood Replenishing Potion, Essence of Dittany, alihotsy, ginger, Devil's Snare-," Harry pulled out a jar of it. It shied away from the light before Harry jammed it back in his bag. "-, peppermint, valerian root,-"
"Merlin, Harry. You do realize we have no idea what you're talking about?" Ron said, eyes wide. Harry sighed.
"I know. Just what it means is that I'm a walking storeroom. I think she thinks that a lot more dangerous things go on on campus than she knows about and that I'll somehow be able to help with all this. Sprout keeps telling me to make tea with all of these, but she's gotta know about the powerful medicinal properties they have to. For crying out loud, who makes tea with valerian root?"
"Harry."
"I know, I know. You have no idea what I'm saying." Harry rubbed his forehead glumly. "I smell like an apothecary."
"Cheer up, mate. At least you're prepared for anything." Seamus offered.
What's up with Cedric though? You guys never answered." Fred and George rolled their eyes simultaneously, leaning back on the bench.
"Ugh."
"Quidditch?" Harry guessed. George leaned back towards the table, slumping over and putting his chin in his hand.
"That boy does not quit."
"Tryouts are coming up, aren't they?" Ron said. "He must be practicing."
"Dunno why though. He's a shoe-in for Hufflepuff seeker. He's gonna get it." Fred said with a shrug.
"Pretty-Boy Diggory is just too uptight about all this."
"I mean, he'll make captain some day. We all know it. He's one of the best players Hufflepuff has had in years." George bit into an apple.
"He needs to calm down before he hurts himself." He said, mouth full. Harry winced.
"Please chew with your mouth shut." George made a vague gesture. "When are tryouts, anyways?"
"Next week, I think." Ron answered. "They like to have some time to practice as a team before the first game in November." The Twins nodded.
"Tryouts for Gryffindor start out at the end of this week and run into next week. They go pretty fast, though. Oliver runs a tight ship."
"How are the Quidditch teams here?" Seamus asked. Fred make a wobbly hand motion.
"Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are pretty consistent. They're good. Gryffindor's been missing a good seeker since Charlie graduated though. Slytherin is a good team on their own, but they play dirty." Fred finished with a dark expression. "Put a lot of players in the Hospital Wing."
"As Cedric would say, it's not good sportsmanship."
"Normally, I wouldn't be so mad about this. We've taken a few cheap shots ourselves, I admit." Fred laid his hand over his heart.
"But nothing like the way they play."
"And they keep winning because of it." The Twins huffed to themselves for a moment before Fred shot Harry a crooked smile. "On a similar note, we hear McGonagall wants you for seeker." Ron sucked in a breath sharply.
"Who told you that?" Harry demanded.
"McGonagall." George answered promptly.
"Of course." Harry narrowed his eyes.
"She wants us to talk to you about it. Convince you to ditch all the noble crap and join the Quidditch team so we can beat those slimy Slytherin bastards." George said with a grin.
"Harry?" Ron's eyes were wide.
"Did she say that explicitly?" The Twins exchanged looks.
"Not in so many words-," Fred began.
"-, but we caught her meaning."
"As a first year?" Seamus asked, equally as shocked as Ron. Fred and George nodded in unison. Seamus let out a low whistle. "That's...that's completely unheard of."
"You'd be the youngest seeker in a century." George supplied helpfully.
"Jesus Christ, George. I'm not doing it."
"You're not doing it?" Ron nearly shouted. Harry shook his head.
"It's not fair. Not to everyone else. Not to you."
"To me?" The red-headed boy squeaked.
"I don't give two shits about playing Quidditch competitively. But for example, there's you and you love Quidditch and I'm sure you'd be overjoyed to play on the Gryffindor team. Am I right?"
"Well, yes-,"
"And yet, you who has a background with Quidditch, who loves Quidditch, doesn't even get a chance. Not to mention the other teams who would want to put their own first years on but can't because the rules still apply to them. It's blatant favoritism."
"Can't you just do it?" George whined.
"No." Harry crossed his arms over his chest.
"You're giving up this kind of opportunity?" Neville asked.
"Yeah. I am. It's not fair. Seriously, guys. On a list of things that are not okay, this is really not okay." He threw his hands into the air. "And I don't even like Quidditch that much!" Fred and George sighed.
"Little ickle firstie and you're already breaking our hearts."
"Go cry about it."
"We will, thank you very much." George pretended to wipe away tears, grabbing Fred's arm. "Come on, Fred. Let's go find Cedric. At least he actually cares about Quidditch." He shot a teasing look back at Harry who rolled his eyes as they walked away, heading out to the pitch.
"You're really not going to do it?" Ron asked. "I mean, people would kill for this opportunity." Harry pushed his food around on his plate.
"No. Besides, even if I did join, I would never be allowed to play. That would be my new punishment; instead of detentions, Snape would just take that away from me and then it would be really unfair to the other kids who've waited years to go out for seeker."
"You don't really think he'd do that?" Neville said. Ron rubbed his forehead.
"Yeah. He would." He said reluctantly. "He'd never let you play."
"See? I've got enough already going on anyways."
XXXX
Harry didn't think practical application was the best idea. Even though they'd supposedly been learning various spells for weeks now, they had only practiced them a few times and Quirrell had not been helpful whatsoever. Besides, Harry didn't trust that Quirrell had things under control if the first years got out of hand. And they would.
It was the nature of first years.
Today, they were supposed to face Quirrell. They had a list of spells they were learning, the Leg-Locking Curse, the Body-Binding Curse, and the Tripping Jinx primarily. However, most kids knew other spells now that weren't within the Hogwarts curriculum but still safe enough, like the Jelly-Legs Jinx and other spells. Quirrell encouraged them to make use of these.
Neville was going first, unsurprisingly. Quirrell did not seem to like him very much.
They were facing each other, Neville nearly shaking with anxiety.
"A-a-anyt-t-time you are r-r-ready, Mr. Longb-b-bottom." A ripple of laughter went through the classroom. Blaise leaned towards Harry and whispered,
"I see this ending only one way." Harry nodded grimly. Neville was his friend, but Blaise wasn't wrong.
Neville glanced back at the class, seeking out his friends. Harry shot him a thumbs up from the back of the room and saw the pudgy boy smile slightly. He turned back towards Quirrell.
"Langlock." Quirrell blocked it with a shield and suddenly threw out a curse of his own. Harry saw his wand moving before Neville did and shouted,
"DODGE!" Neville barely managed to spring out of the way at the last moment. A few students spun around to glare at Harry, having been hoping that Neville would fail.
"L-locomotor mortis." The spell missed its target and the color was slightly off, but Harry figured Neville did well enough. Quirrell tossed out another spell, slowly. Much slower than originally. Harry narrowed his eyes. Then what was that earlier? It was a fake spar, at a much slower speed than it would normally be for the first years. First years couldn't respond that well and the entire point of this exercise was not to defeat the firsties, but to give them a practical feel for using the spells.
Quirrell took a few steps forward and Neville nearly walked backwards off the platform, catching himself at the last moment, but not before Quirrel hit him with a third spell. Neville's body locked up and he hit the ground, head smacking the tile floor hard. Harry saw it and immediately worried about concussions.
"I d-d-do b-b-believe Mr. Longb-b-bott-t-tom has b-b-been b-b-bested. 10 p-p-points for a job well d-d-done."
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Harry shouted out from the back of the room. Quirrell spun over to look at Harry, eyes wide. Blaise hissed at Harry to shut up, but Harry was not going to shut up.
"M-m-mr. K-kasinger?"
"The way he fell! He could have a concussion. You should have known better than to hit him with a body bind, given where he was standing. You heard his head hit the floor. What kind of teacher puts a student in danger like that? I thought this was a practical application of spells, not a frickin' duel." A murmur of agreement ran through the room.
"I-i-i d-d-did not realize w-w-where Mr. Longb-b-bottom was stand-d-ding." Quirrell confessed, but Harry spotted the man giving him the evil side-eye. Quirrell quickly freed Neville from his bind. The small boy sat up, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. "I-i-i w-w-will be more c-c-careful."
"Well that's great and all, but it would have been better before you started flinging spells at your students." Quirrell stared at the floor while Neville returned to his seat.
It was an awkward return to an awkward lesson after that. A girl from Slytherin, Daphne something did the best out of all of them, having the best dodging skills and a pretty fair arsenal. Malfoy did worse than he would probably admit; Ron did about as well. Hermione had some pretty advanced spells, but got hit early, letting out a loud squeak as she hit the ground. All in all, as it turned out, Neville didn't do a bad job at all. He did better than a lot of students.
Finally, it was Harry's turn. Harry figured that Quirrell had saved him for last because he was angry.
Harry climbed up onto the platform, aware that all eyes were on him.
"W-w-whenever y-you are r-ready, Mr. K-k-kasinger." Harry narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. The smell from the turban was wafting across the platform and Harry struggled not to wince at it.
Harry took a guarded stance and made sure to keep his eyes on Quirrell's wand.
"Langlock." He said suddenly, whipping his wand as fast as he could. Quirrell parried it, causing a bright light to appear before fading quickly. "Petrificus totalus. Antlifors." Harry shot off in quick succession. "Avifors." The objects on Quirrell's desk quickly turned into a flock of birds that flew towards the man, blocking his line of sight. "Langlock-scourgify-lumos maxima!" Quirrell had thrown up a shield after he barely dodged the antler spell in time. The birds bounced off his shield a few times before it broke and Quirrell was vigorously cleaned, rubbing his skin raw. Harry's wand lit up just as Quirrell was finding his bearings and he fired blindly at Harry, way faster than he had with the other students.
"Shit!" Harry jumped to avoid it, and turned to fire off another spell, just in time to see a bright light headed for his face. "PROTEGO!" Harry roared, just as the spell slammed into his shield. Harry watched as it cracked and fell apart and barely conjured another as Quirrell followed up with a spell that shot straight through his shield, destroying it in the process, and sent Harry flying off his feet, 4 feet in the air. He landed on his back, groaning and swearing to himself.
The entire class was out of their chairs, peering over to see if he was okay.
"Urrrghh..." He rolled over onto his side, breathing heavily.
What the hell was that?
Why, on earth Quirrell thought it was okay to hit a student with a spell that shattered a shield and sent him flying was beyond Harry. That was definitely too much.
Once Quirrell cleared up the birds chirping and flying around the classroom, he rushed over to Harry who was slowly getting up.
"M-m-mr. K-k-kasinger, a-are y-you okay?" He asked worriedly, reaching to help Harry up. Harry waved his hand away and climbed to his feet, rubbing his back and groaning
"'M fine." He muttered.
"Mate, are you sure you're okay?" Ron asked, rushing over loop Harry's arm over his shoulder. "Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?"
"Nah, I'm fine. Just sore."
"W-w-well, in the m-m-meantime, I'd l-l-like to cong-g-gratulate you, Mr. K-k-kasinger." Quirrell said, staring at Harry with an odd expression. "The Sh-shield Ch-charm is a second-year s-s-spell and to this day, s-s-some ad-d-dult wizards cann-n-not cast a prop-p-per one. S-s-someone's b-b-been d-d-doing their h-h-homework." Harry shrugged as he made his way back to his seat, thanking Ron for his assistance. He collapsed into his seat next to Blaise, who whispered,
"Nice job, dumbass. You provoked him."
"It's what I do best."
XXXX
"You...!" Granger poked him in the chest, hard. Harry backed up, covering his chest with his arms.
"Ow! What was that for? Jesus, Granger." She looked flustered, face red and hair wilder than normal. Her eyes were narrowed and her hands were balled into fists.
"You're not bad at Defense Against the Dark Arts! You're great at it!"
"Oh." Harry was beginning to get an idea of what this was about.
"What was all that about needing help with your essay and I don't understand spell technique and Quirrell's no help? I bet you're his favorite student!" She shouted. A few students twisted their heads to stare, confused. Harry reached out and touched Granger's arm.
"Shh!" He hissed. "Calm down."
"No! I will not calm down!" Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes. For a moment, it looked like Granger was on the verge of tears, she was so angry. She ripped his hand off her arm.
"You were just pretending to be nice to me, weren't you? So you could use me to write the stupid essay that you just didn't want to!"
Oh.
"What? Christ, Granger. No! Not at all!"
"Don't lie to me." Her voice broke and Harry could see that she was blinking back tears. "I thought you were trying to be nice. That it was Muggleborn to Muggleborn. That maybe you wanted to be friends." She sniffled. "But no! You're just like the rest of them!"
"Granger-,"
"Leading me on just so you could get something out of the buck-toothed know-it-all!" She cried out.
"Granger, I'm not-,"
"Why did you have to be so mean to me?"
"HERMIONE-," He shouted, interrupting her to try and get her attention. She was crying now, tears streaming down her face.
"Don't call me Hermione." She turned and fled, wiping tears off her face as she ducked her head so the others wouldn't see. Harry sprinted after her, but got caught in the crowd, and before he knew it, she was gone.
XXXX
It was his first race tonight, and Harry probably wasn't as pumped as he should have been.
He was excited to be here, no doubt. The team had walked him over to the makeshift locker rooms with the rest of the division 3 Novices, telling him how great he was gonna be and how his first race was gonna go. He left his school bag with them on the stands. He hadn't wanted to bring it, but someone asked why he was going out and he had to claim he was going to the library. He was more nervous than he thought he'd be for the race, but less nervous than the other firsties.
But he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened with Granger. He'd seen her in the common room, clearly on the verge of tears from earlier still. He wanted to talk to her, but was afraid that if he did, she would just get upset again. He figured she probably didn't want to cry in front of the entire house and had instead, just avoided her.
He hadn't meant any of what she said about him, but she hadn't given him time to explain. Then again, how believable was, "No, I really was just trying to become your friend"? From the way she had spoken, Granger had a lot of experience with these kinds of things and none of it had gone well.
The racers had been led outside, lined up behind Lee Jordan's announcing area. Harry was decked out in the team jersey and a pair of goggles rested on top of his head. The Twins had enchanted them to see in the dark better, and to be impervious to most damage, so even if he fell, he wouldn't risk an eye injury. Additionally, the uniform had some protection spells on it- things like cushioning charms or impervious charms so he was less likely to be impaled by a tree or to break every bone in his body when he fell. Similar charms were cast on his broom, too.
This was probably the most dangerous thing Harry had ever done.
And it was exciting.
"You fought Quirrell today." A voice came from his side. Harry twisted to see the girl Daphne. She had white-blonde hair tied up tight and bright green eyes. She was a pretty girl, even at her age, but she had a cold way of setting her jaw. Even if Harry hadn't known she was a Slytherin already, she made it pretty obvious. She wore a uniform similar to his, except her jersey was dark blue and had what looked like a giant, flying snake on it. There were some more details, but that was the gist of it. She had a pair of goggles to match, resting on her forehead.
"I know." She said. "Not a very original mascot for a Slytherin, since an occamy is basically a glorified flying snake." Harry blinked at it a few more times and it hissed at him.
"No. I guess not."
"You fought Quirrell today."
"I am aware." He answered. "Glad you noticed my small flight." She snorted.
"You really did fly."
"It was the landing that was the hard part."
"Daphne Greengrass." She stuck out a gloved hand. Harry shook it.
"Hadrian Kasinger." He responded.
"I've heard a lot about you."
"Mostly bad, probably."
"Well, you're not wrong." She said. "Not so surprised to see you here. They always know where to find the adrenaline junkies."
"You're an adrenaline junkie." He stated. She shrugged.
"I like to win. I like to win a lot." She raised an eyebrow. "Heard you got handpicked for the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
"I said no."
"Why?" Harry shrugged.
"It wasn't fair."
"Oh, that's cute."
"Why, you like Quidditch?" He already knew the answer to that question.
"Yes, but I'll never make the team." Harry looked her up and down, paying special attention to her broom. He didn't know much about broom types, but he knew that it was new.
"If you're here, that means you're good enough. Don't know why you couldn't make it next year."
"Because sexism is alive and well in Quidditch, my friend."
"Ahh." She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"It's stupid. The other teams aren't so bad but the Slytherin team is in the fucking Stone Age. They only let girls on the team if they absolutely need a new member, and since there are so many male pureblood scions vying for a space, I'll never make it unless five or six members take a beater to the head."
"I have some connections with the other teams." Harry said with a grin. "That might be arranged." Daphne laughed. Harry had met the beaters from the other teams; apparently there was this little beater club. Fred and George were friendly with them all, even the Slytherins. It seemed that putting their lives at such risk on the field gave them something to bond over.
"Thanks for the suggestion, but I think I'll stick to the old fashioned way."
"Which is?"
"Poison." She smirked at him.
"I don't think you're joking."
"I'm not." They stared at each other for a little bit.
"Well, good luck with that." Harry said, not sure what else he could say. "How many other firsties are here?"
"Not many. They only pick the scary ones." Harry eyed Daphne carefully.
"I know."
She smiled at that.
"I'm not really that scary, am I?" Daphne blinked at him.
"No, you're like a giant teddy bear."
"But really though?"
"I just think you scare the shit out of most people because they see what you'll become."
"What I'll become?" Harry asked, baffled.
"Basically the same, but bigger and more powerful."
"Ahh. Makes sense. I was afraid you were going to say Voldemort or something. I'm not that mean." She stared at him incredulously.
"You just described the most powerful dark lord since Grindelwald as mean."
"Technically, he's only the most powerful dark lord since Grindelwald in the UK." Harry pointed out.
"That's actually pretty sound logic." Harry shrugged, holding his hands up, palms turned to the sky.
"For all we know, there could be a dark lord rampaging East Asia or somewhere that makes Voldemort look like a five-year old throwing a temper tantrum."
"If there was, why haven't we heard of it?"
"Because wizards are weird and other countries don't like us." Daphne made a face.
"You're probably right. I can't imagine they'd want help from a country that wanted to conquer them a hundred years ago. Magic-users live a long time and they're not to keen on forgetting things like that."
"Anyways, are you nervous for the race?" Daphne shrugged, but Harry noticed the way she scratched her arm suddenly.
"Nah. I know what to expect. Broom Racing is in my blood. My mother did it before me and her mother did it before her."
"That's pretty heavy." Harry commented.
"You?"
"A little. More nervous than I thought I'd be, less nervous than I probably should be." He admitted.
"You'll be good at it, I think. You're inventive." Daphne gave him a small, encouraging smile. "Good luck."
"You too." At that moment, Lee's voice roared to life.
"WELCOME TO THE FIRST REAL RACE OF THE SEASON! NO OFFENSE TO ALICIA SPINNET, YOU DID FANTASTIC!" A cheer came from the crowd. "TODAY WE WELCOME THE NOVICE RACERS OF DIVISION 3. THERE ARE 22 RACERS COMPETING TODAY, FIVE OF THEM FIRST YEARS, SO GIVE A BIG, WARM WELCOME TO DAPHNE GREENGRASS OF THE SCREAMING OCCAMIES," Everyone in the crowd cheered for the first years. "PARVATI PATIL OF THE CHIMAERAS, SU LI OF THE DOXIES, SUSAN BONES OF THE BLAST-ENDED SKREWTS, AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, HADRIAN KASINGER OF THE PERUVIAN VIPERTOOTHS!" Harry could hear Cedric whistling in the crowd. "NOW, FOR OUR OTHER RACERS..." Harry tuned out, mounting his broom like the others. No one had kicked off yet, but they were ready. "...COME ON UP, RACERS!"
"That's our cue." Daphne said. Harry hopped on his broom and followed her out to the sandpit. They hovered right before the start line
"NOW, REMEMBER, IF THE RACE LASTS MORE THAN AN HOUR, IT ENDS IN A DRAW AND NO ONE RECEIVES ANY POINTS. IF THERE IS A TIE, IT ENDS IN A DRAW AND NO ONE RECEIVES ANY POINTS. SHORT OF MAIMING AND KILLING, THERE ARE NO RULES. TRY NOT TO DIE, NEWBIES." Harry snorted. "READY? SET! GO!" And they were off.
Harry shot forward as fast as he could. He had his wand in his hand, but he was more concerned with not falling behind. He plastered himself against his broomstick, before waving his wand at the trees in front of him, whispering,
"Avifors." Every single leaf on the first two trees turned into a little yellow bird. They chirped cheerily as they flew towards the oncoming racers.
There were several screams as they flew straight into the mass of birds. Kids were struggling to hang onto their brooms in the flock. Harry kept his mouth shut and his head down.
The racers finally broke through the flock, bursting out towards the trees. They were covered with yellow feathers, but Harry didn't care. It was so surreal, flying at this kind of speed, weaving between trees and stray birds. It was like tunnel vision when he was going this fast; he only had time to see where he wanted to be.
Which is why he was surprised when a burly second year rammed him in the side. Harry skidded towards the trees, but he pulled away at the last second. He managed to save himself from being impaled on a large, sharp branch, but he lost his lead to the second year, who twisted his head around to give him the middle finger and stick his tongue out at him.
"Antlifors." Harry hissed and the spell struck his target squarely in the shoulder. The boy let out an
"Eeek!" As he grew antlers from the top of his head. He slowed down a bit and Harry shot forward, hitting him in the side, before climbing up into the sky. He cast a body bind back at the second year who was gaining fast on him and the boy yelled as his broom went out of control and he crashed into a few racers behind him.
There were still quite a few racers in front of Harry; he'd say about five or six. Daphne was among them, overtaking most of the other racers on her fancy broom. She was fast and small and that gave her a huge advantage over the larger students. Only a few spells were flying, but she could easily dodge the ones that were aimed at her.
Harry leaned forward on his broom, locking his thighs around it tightly and urging it to go faster. He threw a Slug Vomiting Hex at one of the boys in front of him, right before he rounded the corner. He ducked to the side and flew above the group, watching in satisfaction as the boy spewed slugs at another racer. They rounded the corner, all curving around the giant tree in the middle. The boy vomited another slug onto the other racer, who screamed,
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" And pushed him into the tree. Harry watched the boy backflip on his broom, towards the racers behind him, spewing slugs the entire way. He snickered when he heard the screams.
Glancing down, he spotted Daphne pulling ahead. He knew she was fast, but damn. Daphne would probably be one of his biggest opponents in the races to come. She was skilled and had something to prove. That did not fare well for Harry.
Plus she was scary.
Harry waited until they crossed the sandpit before he divebombed Daphne, ramming into her from above as fast as he could. She screamed as she rushed towards the ground, regaining control only a few feet from the sandpit. She screeched to a halt so hard that sand flew up and hit Harry in the neck. He tried to shoot forward, but she grabbed him by the end of the broom and yanked him back, hissing,
"If that's how it's gonna be."
What the fuck have I done?
Harry shoved his wand in her face.
"Lumos maxima!" She yelled as she was blinded and Harry took the opportunity to get the hell out of there. "DON'T THINK I'M GONNA GO EASY ON YOU!" She screamed as Harry raced back into the cover of the trees, pulling the same trick as before and turning the leaves into birds as soon as he passed them.
There were still quite a few people in front of Harry, but he knew that Daphne would be back with a vengeance. In the time Harry had spent in the sandpit, three people had pulled ahead. He ran through a mental list of spells that Fred and George had taught him.
"Obscuro." A blindfold appeared on the face of the racer in front of him, and rather than simply take it off, the racer panicked and spun out of control, taking out a second racer near her as they both crashed into a tree. He was gaining on the next person, when all of a sudden, they spun around on their broom and shot a jet of hot air into his face. He fell back, barely managing to dodge a snake that was thrown at him from the front of the line, when he got hit in the side by what he could only assume was a tickling curse.
"JESUS!" He slowed down as to avoid spinning out of control. "FINITE!" The tickling stopped, but he lost a lot of ground.
OOF
Harry tried to suck in a breath desperately, all the wind knocked out of him. He saw stars for a moment as he hit a tree, barely able to comprehend what had happened, until he saw Daphne racing ahead of him, grinning and sending a jet of fire into the air in celebration. He got his bearings straight and raced after her, ignoring the nettles he was covered with.
He watched from behind as the flyers in front of him picked each other off. He passed a racer who was dancing uncontrollably on his broom and another who couldn't stop sneezing. As soon as he was close enough, he turned the leaves by the racers ahead of him into birds, slowing quite a few racers down. He dropped below the flock and came up ahead of a few racers, right before they passed the sandpit to begin their third lap.
On the third lap, the fatigue was much more obvious in a lot of racers; most of them were young, too. Harry, however, could only feel the adrenaline in his veins. He felt jittery, his heart pounding in his chest. He was very aware of how hot he was against the cool night breeze. It was only Daphne and a few others left to take out
And Jesus, Daphne looked pissed. She was covered in feathers, sand, and nettles and looked about ready to murder someone. She was ramming her fellow racers left and right, trying to pull ahead. By the time they neared the last stretch, some pretty nasty spells were flying. Harry cast a few of his own, eliminating all but one last racer. It was close, with only the three of them left. The sandpit was in sight and Harry brought out the birds one more time. The other two racers screamed as they once again suffered through the flock of birds and Harry, who was prepared, moved ahead of the racers. He was so close to the sandpit, about to win his first race, he was so excited to be the cause of the first points on the board.
Right before he was about to cross the finish line, he heard a garbled scream and spun around to see a bloodstained flock of birds. As they cleared, he watched in horror as Daphne began to plummet from a tree at the edge of the sandpit, impaled through the side with a branch, blood spraying from various injuries as she fell. He spun around as fast as he could, going straight into a nosedive, trying to reach Daphne.
He caught her by the arm, right before she hit the ground, causing her to scream in pain. It nearly yanked him off his broom, but he wrapped his body around it and gently lowered her to the ground, where he jumped off beside her. He looked up to see people climbing out of the stands, running towards Daphne, looks of horror and shock on their faces. He heard Fred or George scream,
"GET HIS BAG, GET HIS BAG!" Harry crouched down besides Daphne, who was blinking up at him, confused.
"W-what?" She asked. She hadn't quite realized what happened yet.
"Shh." He said. "I'm gonna pull out the branch, okay?"
"Sounds good to me." He wrapped both hands around the branch, braced himself, and pulled it out, as close to the exact angle that it went in as as he could get it. Daphne cried out in pain as he did so. He tossed the branch to the side and lifted her shirt to look at the wound, pulling out the bits of fabric embedded in it.
"You're gonna be fine, Daphne." He promised her.
"I only kind of believe you." She huffed out. He glanced down at the rest of her body, which was covered in abrasions and scrapes. There was one particularly deep cut on her thigh, but he knew it hadn't hit the artery or else she would be bleeding to death already. There was also what looked like a deep cut on her head and Harry was worried about the blood and a concussion. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't as deep as it looked, it was just bleeding more, which wasn't good either. He cast a quick cleaning spell on the deepest wounds he could find. A crowd was beginning to form around them, but the Vipertooths burst through, shouting,
"GIVE THEM SPACE!" Fred and George crouched on either side of Harry.
"Figured you needed this." Fred said, worriedly chewing on his lip.
"She's gonna be okay, right?"
"She'll be just fine." Harry said. "Her shoulder is probably dislocated, but hey, it's not bleeding so that's good. Can you pull a few things out of the bag for me?"
"Sure, what do you-," Daphne peered down at her stomach, and Harry glanced up at the same time a look of panic crossed her face.
"Oh my-,"
"Daphne, don't-,"
"OH MY GOD-," She tried to sit up, reaching for her stomach and the giant gaping hole that was leaking blood.
"DAPHNE-,"
"MERLIN, I DON'T WANT TO DIE-," She cried out, hysterical as Harry tried to push her back down. She howled in pain at her movement, but clawed at her stomach and leg, panicked. She spotted the massive branch that had been sticking out of her laying on the ground, covered in blood and started screaming.
"Hold her down." He told the Twins, and they did, as she thrashed. She let out blood-curdling screams. Cedric took the Twins' place, a serious look on his face.
"What do you need?"
"Ginger and Devil's Snare. The Devil's Snare is in a jar." Cedric searched through and pulled out them both. "Look for a silver potion next and two little vials of liquid." Harry took the ginger from him, broke off a tiny bit and shoved it into Daphne's mouth, before forcibly closing it. "Chew it and swallow it." He ordered. She stared up at him with wide, panicked eyes, before chewing it slowly and swallowing it. "Cho, lift her feet up."
"To where?"
"Just hold them up." He said. "Above her heart." Cho obeyed. Harry wanted to use the Essence of Dittany, but he was pretty sure she had some massive internal organ injuries and didn't want to close the wound before taking her to Madam Pomfrey. "Ferrula." Bandages appeared over her stomach wound, binding it comfortably.
"Mate, what'd you do to her? She seems a lot calmer now."
"The ginger. It'll make her more comfortable." He reached for the jar of Devil's Snare, but paused. "Daphne, don't look. It'll just freak you out. Fred, George, make sure of it, okay?" Daphne and the Twins nodded but Harry didn't trust Daphne wouldn't look. She stared straight up at the Twins while they told her jokes, trying to make her feel better.
Harry uncapped the Devil's Snare and dumped it on her stomach. It was a little bit of a struggle to get it to do what he wanted, but soon enough, it wrapped around her wound, putting pressure on it, but nothing dangerous.
"That's...that's a really good idea." Cedric whispered. "I never would have thought of that." Harry shrugged. He checked again to make sure the wound on her thigh was clean, before pulling out the Essence of Dittany and Murtlap Essence
"I need peppermint." He told Cedric. He searched through Harry's bag once again, pulling out a little container of it. "Feed her a few leaves." Cedric complied, before leaning back to ask Harry,
"What's the peppermint for?"
"To control unwanted side effects. Keep anything too violent from happening, consider I'm about to shove a few potions down her throat." Harry poured a little bit of the Murtlap Essence into the leg wound, reaching down and prying the skin with his finger. Daphne sucked in a breath. "You're gonna be find, Daphne. I'm just closing the wound on your leg." He followed up with Essence of Dittany to grow the skin back. "Pull the salve out of my bag." Cedric did so. "Rub it wherever you see injuries, especially the wound on her head." It was Star-Grass salve. It could be pretty powerful, but Madam Pomfrey always told him to use salves primarily for smaller injuries and only ever use it on a big injury in conjunction with other potions or spells. "Hey Daphne; you may even walk out of this without any scars."
"That sounds nice."
"Pull out the two other potions marked with w's." Cedric did so, momentarily pausing from his salving duties. "Fred, George, give all three of these to her, and start with the silver one." George saluted and they started to sit Daphne up a little. "Wait!" Harry realized, and they paused. "Anyone got a coat?" Someone threw a jacket at his head. He laid it over the Devil's Snare on Daphne's stomach before she saw it and panicked. "Continue." They fed her the Blood-Replenishing Potion, the Wiggenweld Potion to help heal her wounds, and a Wideeye Potion to keep her awake, in case she did have a concussion.
Harry moved over to wear Fred and George were, by Daphne's head. He smiled down at her while she was taking the Potions. She smiled back, causing a little bit of the potion to leak out the corners of her mouth.
He looked carefully down at her head wound. He put on a little Murtlap Essence, followed up by Essence of Dittany to close her head wound. Thank God for the what? 10 detentions he'd served with Madam Pomfrey? It was a godsend that he'd spent so much time in the Hospital Wing, around Quidditch and flying injuries. Thank God for detention.
Thank God for Snape.
No, that's going too far.
"Ferrula." He wrapped the bandages around her forehead.
"I'm not gonna die, right?" Daphne asked him, once she was done drinking the potions.
"Nah; you're barely even bleeding anymore." Harry glanced up. "Now for the fun part. Who wants to take her to the Hospital Wing? Keep in mind, we need to keep her legs above her heart the entire time." Also, thank God for Muggle first aid classes.
Unsurprisingly, Cedric volunteered. Together, Cedric and Harry carried Daphne up to the Hospital Wing. Cedric did the bulk of the carrying and Harry Held onto her legs, keeping them above her head.
There was no one in the Hospital Wing, since it was about 11:30 now, but Pomfrey's quarters were connected to the Wing. Cedric laid Daphne in a bed and propped her feet up with pillows while Harry went to bang on Pomfrey's door.
Eventually, the healer shuffled out, yawning. She was wearing bunny slippers.
"Harry?" She asked. "What are you doing here?"
"We have a patient for you." Madam Pomfrey spotted Daphne over her shoulder. The Slytherin waved at her, as did Cedric, who was sitting with Daphne. Pomfrey made a beeline for her, eyes wide.
"She had a major thigh wound, head wound, and abdominal wound. Her shoulder is probably dislocated too. She was impaled by a tree branch. I closed the head wound and thigh wound and gave her a Blood-Replenishing Potion, a Wiggenweld Potion, and a Wideeye Potion because I think she has a concussion too, she's taken peppermint and ginger and I used Murtlap Essence and Essence of Dittany on her head wound and thigh wound but she's still bleeding internally-," Madam Pomfrey lifted the jacket on Daphne's stomach, spotted the Devil's Snare, and lowered it.
"That was a good idea." She said approvingly. "Did you clean the wound?"
"Yes, but I wasn't sure what to do about the internal bleeding, so I just elevated her feet, slowed the external bleeding, and brought her to you. She's probably going to need a Calming Draught." Pomfrey nodded.
"Mr. Diggory, you may go to bed. Ms. Greengrass is going to be absolutely fine." She promised the Hufflepuff. "Harry, do you mind staying just a bit longer?"
"Not at all." Cedric squeezed Daphne's hand, nodding at her. He touched Harry's shoulder before he left.
"You gonna be alright here?" Harry nodded.
"Also, don't worry about getting into trouble." Harry said. He didn't think Madam Pomfrey would say anything. She normally didn't, unless she absolutely had to. As long as Daphne was going to be okay, she wouldn't meddle in the affairs of the students. Cedric clapped him on the shoulder and left.
"That's a very interesting shirt you're wearing." Madam Pomfrey said innocently. Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm glad to see you involved in other things."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
XXXX
I wasn't actually planning on including Daphne at first, but then I was like "Well, there have to be some other first years competing." And then, "Why not a Slytherin? The Vipertooths are all Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws. Where are all my Slytherin racers at?" So now we've got Daphne. Who is fun and scary and will be giving Harry a run for his money.
Also, they must really hate Harry for his stupid bird trick that he keeps spamming.
I'm quite happy with Harry's first race. He didn't win, but I think saving Daphne's life is a fair trade off. Not to mention, I never planned to have him win his first race anyways. The races will get more extreme as he moves up. I don't think Harry'll be in the Expert races for a few years, but things are gonna be insane when he is. Also; Broom Racing stops for no one and the Triwizard Tournament is but a flimsy obstacle. As is major stomach wounds for Daphne. She'll be up in no time.
I didn't have Harry do a lot of actual healing magic because I didn't think that was very realistic. Of course, the whole thing with the potions in that was very much pushing it, but I felt that someone with experience doing these things and with Muggle first aid would have an idea about what to do. And anyone can use potions and salves. And hey, we don't read Harry Potter for perfect realism, do we?
Finally, Hermione. Oh, Hermione. I never really felt like we saw the extent of her isolation, so I wanted to make a big point about that. Like, we know that Hermione has been isolated all her life, even in Muggle school. And part of her not being accepted at Hogwarts is because she is Muggleborn too; like in the books, I often noticed people saying vaguely blood supremacist things, even Ron. Not on purpose, not cruelly, but that sort of underlying attitude was always there and I think that would have always given Hermione much more trouble than was made apparent.
Also; sexism. That's a thing. Something I wanted to include in Quidditch, and not so obviously for Harry. Like everyone thinks he's a Muggleborn too but people don't give him extra shit because 1) he is a little bit scary to other firsties and 2) sexism is still alive and well. Cho is a great Quidditch player and mourns Cedric's death badly and suddenly she's a whiny bitch. Harry is a great Quidditch player and mourns Cedric's death badly and he's the tragic hero, struggling to get along. I've even got a Cho backstory I wanna talk about.
Anyways, next chapter should hopefully be along sometime. Don't expect it for at least a few days though. I didn't think I was gonna get this one out so quickly, but I really cranked it out.
As always, leave a review! A comment, constructive criticism, anything! I love you guys and I love hearing anything you have to say about me or my work.
See you later!