By half past four, there's barely an hour to go until dinner as Harry awaits his guest. Minutes of pacing pass by before he hears a knock followed with the classroom door being opened.
"Harry, I'm supposed to be revising today's notes, as I usually do, after classes. Why'd you ask to meet here?" asks a clearly confused Hermione.
"Happy Birthday, my bushy-haired best friend."
"Oh gosh, I've almost forgotten!" Hermione's looks from Harry (who's nervously scratching the back of his hair) to a few packages on a table. "So, these are for me?"
"I know your birthday's the 19th but figured I'd jump the queue and wish you early." Harry feels a familiar warmth in his chest upon seeing Hermione's beaming expression.
"Oh, thank you! I really do appreciate your efforts, honestly."
A firecracker now explodes outside the classroom, startling both Harry and Hermione as they instinctively stand closer. This, however, only causes more cheers and whistles to sound from the corridor outside.
"Kiss already!"
"Use the Parseltongue and ready the snake!"
Harry doubles back in surprise as Hermione furiously groans. Gently nudging him aside, she stomps over to yank open the door, but their eavesdroppers have already fled. "I'm so sorry about that, darn Weasley twins keep pestering people."
"How the heck did they even know we were here? Nobody followed me and I made certain of that."
"I really don't know," sighs Hermione.
"Well, I was enjoying the sight of you getting all emotional."
"Hmph, never."
"If that's what you say, birthday babe." Harry offers to help pack the treats he's gifted before smiling. "Shall we walk together?"
"Sure thing!"
Once everything's been packed away by Harry and Hermione, they opt to stroll along the many corridors of Hogwarts where various students wander around. Eventually, the pair traverse a brightly lit corridor on the first floor before Hermione sighs. "Dinner can't come soon enough already; all this studying's made me famished indeed."
"To the Great Hall it is," declares Harry, picking up speed while hurrying down the bright corridor. They soon step out through a door taking them to the Grand Staircase. Looking up, Harry stops to view the countless moving staircases before glancing behind him. "You wanna drop that bag off in your common room?"
"Alright then, and you're welcome to tag along, Mister Slytherin 'King'," replies Hermione.
"Are you nuts? The Fat Lady will go hysterical seeing a Slytherin trying to enter. Not to mention the reception I'll get from your Housemates."
"I suppose it's not fair that you'll never be able to see the Gryffindor common room. It's quite sunny and cosy up there. Don't get me wrong though, yours is quite nice too."
"Hmph, I'm still not sure if I should forgive you, Ronald, and Malone for impersonating my Housemates last year," replies an unamused Harry. "Just so you know, I had to do quite a bit of explaining to somehow get Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent to forgo revenge."
"Then put on a suit and call yourself my knight in shining armour," says Hermione, hurrying up various staircases en route to the Gryffindor common room. Meanwhile, Harry keeps to a corner until Hermione eventually returns without her bag. "All done, let's get going."
They descend a few steps before reaching the Entrance Hall, and no matter how many years Harry's been here, Hogwarts never ceases to feel like a true home. The glow of many a candle invigorates Harry as he soon stops at the bottom of the marble staircase before turning left to approach the Great Hall.
"Feeling sentimental again? I know that look," says Hermione, seeing him staring wistfully ahead.
"I just love this place, that's all." He extends a hand to Hermione, standing on the bottom steps, which she accepts with a smile.
"Oh look, someone's being a gentleman tonight." Hermione descends the last few steps before turning Harry's palm to face up. Both students now standing metres from the Great Hall as a few others pass by.
"Something wrong?" asks Harry, relishing Hermione's soft strokes along his rough, calloused hand; a comforting sensation indeed.
"You should think about moisturizing, seriously."
Harry reverses the gesture by now turning her smooth palm up and running his fingers along it. "Quidditch, burning an evil possessed Professor, and fighting a Basilisk can really wreck a boy's hands."
"Fair points, I suppose," says Hermione, shuddering as Harry draws circles on her palm. She then gently squeezes his hand before Harry swiftly looks over her shoulder.
"Sir," he greets, causing Hermione to look behind and spot Snape striding past them. The Potions Master remains oddly silent while looking from Harry to Hermione to their hand-holding.
"Um, hello, Professor Snape," greets a rather nervous Hermione. To both students' surprise, however, Snape merely walks into the Great Hall without so much as a word of acknowledgement.
"What do you suppose that was about? Professor Snape never misses an opportunity to pass comments," states a confused Harry.
Hermione decides upon buttoning his opened robes before shrugging. "You reckon he dislikes you hanging out with me? After all, Slytherin folks are known to revere blood status and despise Gryffindor at times."
"Professor Snape hardly bothers with blood talk at all, so I really don't know why he reacts this way to us. Full of crap, as always."
"Well, rather silence than unwanted attention I suppose." Hermione releases Harry's hand as they enter the packed Great Hall.
Running lengthwise from the double doors are many house tables. From their view upon entering, Harry and Hermione spot the Slytherin table being nearest to their left, and Ravenclaw closest to their right. Hufflepuff sits between the Slytherin and staff tables while Gryffindor lies between the Ravenclaw and staff tables. A wide length of walkway offers passage from the entrance right up to the staff table.
While standing beside Hermione, Harry knows he is being watched by the occasional student or staff. In fact, he briefly spots Snape staring at them before looking away. Soon thereafter, Theodore Nott jeers at Harry from his spot at the Slytherin table nearby.
"Excuse me while I deal with an idiot." Harry now strides towards Nott. "What's your problem, man?"
Seated around Nott are Zabini to his right, some fourth years on his left, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle facing him from their seats. All appear to be watching the conversation unfold as Nott speaks. "Why are you hanging out with that thing? Not only is its hair all bushy, and front teeth too big, but it's a Mudblood from Gryffindor."
If they weren't in the Great Hall now, then Harry might've throttled Nott good. But he knows the dynamics of his House and how to win such arguments, even against seemingly popular opinion. "Because I'm Harry Potter and can do whatever the hell I want, understand?"
Snorts of laughter, whistles, and "He's got a point," echo across the nearby group of students. A livid—and embarrassed—Nott now shoves his plate of dinner aside before standing up, face-to-face with Harry Potter. From the corner of his eye, Harry spots his best friends (fondly referred as his girls) seated at their distant end of the Slytherin table. The group of Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, Sally-Anne, and Pansy now openly groan at such an obvious confrontation taking place yet again.
"You're disgracing yourself, Potter. How can you call yourself a Slytherin but then run along with filthy Granger?" asks Nott coldly.
"Because I can, simple as that," says Harry, now opening his arms. "Are you famous?"
Nott briefly glances at the students seated around him before replying, "My blood is pure, and I'm from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. What about you, Potter?"
"Oh, not this again. Look, I do hold great respect for the Sacred Twenty-Eight," says Harry, darting his eyes to see who's observing. "But have you survived a direct Killing Curse as a baby and discovered that you speak Parseltongue?"
Nott responds, though growing less confident by the second. "Hmph, sheer luck and nobody cares."
"My reputation begs to differ. Also, bear in mind that I'm able to speak with our House animal—a snake—in the great language of our Founder," says Harry, sensing imminent victory. "Best of all, everyone expected me to be a Gryffindor but, no, I've come to grace this House, Nott." He now looks around and sees various looks of approval from the nearby observing Slytherins.
"You think you're so special, stupid Half-Bloo–"
"Ugh, Nott, just sit down as your debate's already over," states an older student whom Harry is unfamiliar with. It amuses the latter to see how Theodore's carefully selected pro-Pureblood rants have fallen short before him today.
Harry now saunters down the table towards his clearly curious girls before seeing an opportunity arise. Family ties are strongly upheld in the Wizarding World, and Slytherins are no different, although with some exceptions. Therefore, Harry wonders if any of the older students have younger siblings like Daphne and Astoria are to each other. He reckons they might and decides to politely take a seat between two first-years.
"Mind if I sit here?" he asks, stifling his laughter at the dozen flabbergasted first-years around him. They cease all actions of eating and speaking to gawk at him while he simply smiles. "So, how's everything going for you little ones?"
No response, simply stares and looks of disbelief towards each other. Not only has an older student casually sat among them, but a very famous one indeed.
"Don't be shy; I'm not that much older than you lot," says Harry, now reaching for a bowl of potato salad. "Anybody want seconds? I can understand if you're full but–"
Never before has he seen a dozen kids so swiftly grab their plates—regardless of their contents—and flock around him. They stand with plates held out, and Harry decides upon dishing bits of salad into each one. While catering for the first-year Astoria, Harry takes a moment to glance left down the table and wink at a baffled Daphne.
"Harry Potter dished my food, I'm so telling mom and dad about this!"
"He's sitting next to me."
"I heard he's Hogwarts' best Seeker ever."
Harry grabs an empty plate before catering for himself, grinning at the comments echoing throughout Slytherin's youngest. If he hadn't shut down Theodore Nott enough, then this should seal the deal. Although using this opportunity to prove a point, Harry also feels a sense of warmth in knowing that he's definitely made these kids' day.
"Um, Mr. Harry Potter sir, I heard you grew up with Muggles, is that true?" asks a girl seated before him.
He nods before replying, "Just call me 'Harry'," then turns to acknowledge the group, "I'd rather not speak about it. Let's discuss your best and worst classes."
"I hate Transfiguration; McGonagall is so mean," complains one first-year, earning nods of approval from his classmates seated nearby.
"But Potions and Flying are the best!" adds another first-year girl.
Harry tries getting some names down but finds himself soon forgetting, for which he is forgiven. The next few minutes are spent with the famous third-year dining and making sure the entire group is well settled into Hogwarts.
With his plate emptied, belly full, and kindness shown towards the newest members of his House, Harry sits up straight. He spots many a first-year glancing curiously over his shoulder until familiar arms wrap around him from behind. Glancing left, Harry spots Pansy leaning over while standing beside him. Her pretty—though often mocked—face now centimetres from his.
"Hey, when you're done playing papa bear to these firsties, then I'd like to hear what that Nott argument was about," she says, smiling as a first-year decides to speak.
"Are you his girlfriend?"
Harry's pulse hastens at the sudden question. Surely Pansy wouldn't respond in her usual way with them?
"Of course, he's my Harry." She presses her cheek against his, while wickedly smiling. Gasps, wide-eyes, and giggles erupt throughout the dozen youngsters seated nearby. A startled Harry now looks up at a smirking Pansy who whispers in his ear, "That's what you get for choosing these babies over me. Enjoy the gossiping; I sure will."
She ruffles his hair before returning to her seat farther down the table. The irony of the situation hits as Pansy's so expertly worked her charm. This leaves a red-faced Harry seated between a giggling bunch of youngsters for the rest of his evening.