Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: If I was JKR I'd be charging for this

\\/

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

On a chilly Saturday morning, they were sitting in the Great Hall having breakfast as usual. Neville and Hermione had joined Harry and Ron at the Slytherin table as they periodically did, and the muttering from the other Slytherins had been quickly silenced with a few threatening words from Harry.

The staff were sitting at the head table conversing quietly. Dumbledore was leaning towards Professor McGonagall to compare what looked like some paperwork, and Snape was lazily watching the Slytherins to check for signs of discord. Harry noticed a line appear down his forehead when he noticed Hermione and Neville, but he made no move to say anything. Slightly disappointed, Harry returned to his breakfast.

Suddenly there was a great bang, and the doors to the entrance of the Great Hall flew open. Chilly air swirled in through the doorway, and they shivered reflexively. Then out of the fog, a figure appeared in the doorway.

As he entered the Great Hall, the light from the candles above the tables threw the man's face into sharp relief, and a gasp came from every table. The man had a face that might have once been strong and handsome. But any vestige of handsomeness had been quite literally carved away. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of nose was missing. Even more extraordinary were the man's eyes: one was regular dark beady eye, hidden beneath a chunk of flesh. The other though, was large, round as a coin, and a vivid electric blue.

"Who do you think that is?" Neville whispered to Harry. Then a moment later, realised Harry was no longer in his seat.

The Great Hall appeared to be holding its breath, and Dumbledore rose slowly to his feet. But Harry had already risen, and dashed down from the Slytherin table. With a wide grin on his face, Harry threw his arms around the grizzled man, embracing him in front of the whole hall.

The silence was deafening.

"Get off me, Potter!" Mad-Eye growled, glaring at Harry.

Undeterred, Harry let go as requested but couldn't keep the smile off his face. Living with Kingsley most of the time, he had often gone months between seeing Mad-Eye, when he was on assignments. Ever since he was a tiny child, this had been how he had greeted the aging auror when he returned.

Mad-Eye gave him a filthy look, and Harry smirked. The auror hated anything that compromised him, and it perhaps hadn't been the best idea to expect him to show his cuddly side in front of a room full of potential threats.

Behind Harry, Dumbledore had descended from the dias. "Alastor," he said formally, extending his hand. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Dumbledore," Mad-Eye grunted, taking it suspiciously. "Nice to see you again."

"Indeed Alastor, although the circumstances are somewhat...regrettable." Dumbledore shot a look at Harry, obviously wishing he could send him back to his seat.

"Regrettable!" Harry broke in. "You call this regrettable!"

The entire Great Hall was listening with bated breath, a fact that Dumbledore seemed acutely aware of, for he shot a glance at Mad-Eye warily. "Perhaps we should take this to a more private venue?" He suggested

"No need Albus, I won't be stayin' long."

"Oh really Dumbledore? So you can continue using a series of cover-ups and lies to fuel your own agenda, and only have to deal with the consequences privately?" Harry glared.

Mad-Eye put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now, now lad. Calm yourself."

"Yes Mr Potter, this isn't necessary. Can I offer you a spot of breakfast before our meeting Alastor?" Dumbledore said calmly.

"No thank you Albus. A meeting won't be necessary."

"A meeting won't...I thought you were here for a meeting...?"

"Potter informs me that you refuse to answer a few questions - questions that are of considerable interest to us." Mad-Eye glared.

Dumbledore looked around the Great Hall desperately, as though wishing he could make all the witnesses disappear. "Really Alastor this isn't the place. Can I interest you in a spot of tea in my office?"

"So," Mad-Eye continued as though he hasn't heard Dumbledore. "I'm here to ask you one more time if you'll answer our queries. If not..."

"If not?" Dumbledore asked, looking calmer. Clearly he felt there was no threat Mad-Eye could make that would worry him.

"If not, we'll have a copy of that list sent to the Daily Prophet." Harry interjected cheerfully. "And find out if the Wizarding public know anything about it"

Dumbledore paled slightly, although it was hard to tell under his beard. "Are you...threatening me?" He asked slowly.

"Yes, yes we are," Mad-Eye said, sounding pleased that Dumbledore had figured it out so fast. "The Prophet already hold a copy. They're waiting on our say-so though."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to risk that information becoming public?"

"Not as dangerous as whatever other fool plans you've been cooking up involving the boy, that's for sure."

Dumbledore seemed speechless, and McGonagall had begun to make her way towards them, presumably to run damage control, and behind her Snape also looked on the verge of standing. There was dead silence along the house tables, as everyone strained to hear what was going on.

Mad-Eye seemed aware of this, and wrapped it up quickly.."There are probably people you need to contact, Albus," he said. "Sources you need to inform and so on. So we'll give you a bit of time. But if we don't have answer to each and every one of those questions by Christmas..." He left the threat hanging.

"Mr Moody!" Professor McGonagall had arrived. "What are you doing here!"

"I'm on my way out," Mad-Eye smiled horribly at her.

"I'll see you at Christmas?" Harry said hopefully. He missed the old auror considerably while he was away.

"I'll be there lad. And I'll look forward to meeting your friends if they can make it."

"I'll see," Harry smiled. He extended his hand, knowing he'd already pushed his luck with one public hug already.

Mad-Eye shook it, then departed, the doors slamming behind him. Dumbledore returned to his seat looking shaken, but McGonagall gave Harry a piercing look.

Harry returned to his seat to find the whole Slytherin table staring at him. He ignored them, and helped himself to toast. His friends seemed to have decided to save their questions for later, a kindness for which he was grateful, as the last thing he needed was the whole of Slytherin hearing exactly what they had been referring to.

However, after breakfast no sooner had Harry and Ron returned to the Slytherin common room, than they walked into what could only be described as an ambush.

As Harry entered the common room through the narrow stone passageway, he found himself standing in the centre of a semicircle of first years, all of them clearly waiting for him. Blaise Zabini stood on his left, Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode directly in front, and Theodore Nott to his right, completing the circle. Ron entered the room after Harry, and paused warily. Harry subtly slipped his hand into his pocket next to his wand, but didn't draw it out; waiting to first see what was going on.

Daphne spoke up first. "We've been waiting for you" she said.

"Yes?" Harry said, his mind racing. He hadn't expected this at all.

"We need to talk to you. We've got half an hour before lessons start, follow us," Daphne said abruptly. She and Millicent stepped through Ron and Harry towards the door. Harry and Ron exchanged glances and then followed her. Blaise and Theodore followed closely behind; they seemed to be guarding the rear to make sure he and Ron didn't try to escape. It struck Harry how very efficiently they were operating: This had obviously been planned in advance.

When they reached an empty classroom, they filed in. "Take a seat," Daphne said abruptly, gesturing to two chairs. She seemed to have been elected spokeswoman. Definately planned in advance, Harry noted.

"I'd rather stand thanks," Harry said. If this turned out to be unfriendly, he wanted to be able to get out if necessary. Behind them, Harry heard Blaise locking the door.

"Whats going on?" Ron asked.

"Sorry to drag you out here, the common room isn't very private, and we don't want any of the older students finding out."

"Finding out what?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"We need to know what's going on, Potter," Millicent Bulstrode spoke up. Harry didn't think he'd ever heard the hefty Slytherin speak before - she had a surprisingly deep voice for an eleven year old girl.

"What do you mean?" Harry said, trying to buy time.

"Don't play dumb," Daphne picked up the thread. "We're Slytherins. We've been trained since childhood to notice what's going on, although you might not have picked up on that spending all your time with a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

Harry didn't like her tone, and told her so. Daphne shrugged it off. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you don't trust us. We're in Slytherin, and we're supposed to stick together. Instead, you're off arguing with the headmaster, sticking up for the other houses, attacking Malfoy and performing wandless magic at eleven."

One look at her face told Harry there was no point in playing dumb. "Does it matter?" He asked.

"What do you mean does it matter?"

"Well aside from the fact that you're in Slytherin too, what reason do you have to question me on these things?"

Blaise and Theodore moved to stand behind Daphne protectively, and Blaise spoke up.

"We don't want to pry," he said calmly. "But perhaps I can explain this more easily."

Harry nodded, and Blaise continued.

"You mentioned during one lesson that you weren't raised in Britain. That seems very clear to us. I don't think you quite understand the environment we were all raised in as pureblood offspring, with parents heavily involved in the dark arts."

"Go on."

"We were all ordered to gather information on you from the moment we arrived. Nobody knew where you'd grown up, but there was a rumour it was with muggles - and you were supposed to be an easy target. We were supposed to pass information about you on to our parents. The rest of the Slytherin first years are doing the same thing - Draco especially."

Harry burst out laughing. It was too much, he couldn't take it anymore. The Slytherins looked at him like he'd gone mad. "I'm sorry," he choked. "Its just that - I was sorted into Slytherin too, remember. Do you really think I'm not here to do exactly the same thing to you?"

Ron sniggered behind Harry, and the four other Slytherins stared at Harry as if he'd grown another head. Harry relaxed, and took a seat. Ron sat down next to Harry, but didn't speak. It seemed that the Slytherins had just brought him along for lack of what else to do with him.

"So its true that you grew up with Mad-Eye Moody?"

"Yes, some of the time. But that's common knowledge. What I want to know is...why are you telling me all this? Why aren't you just off making your little reports?"

"Because we don't want to Potter," Daphne interjected. "There's a rumour going around that you blasted Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle on the train without touching your wand. And I saw you knock Malfoy off his broom during flying lesson - he has been flying since he could walk, that wasn't an accident."

"And I saw you in charms," Blaise finished.

"Well done," Harry complimented. "Very observant. In that case, I can't understand why you haven't reported already."

Daphne looked at Harry as though he was being very stupid. Harry was familiar with the look - it was one of Mad-Eye's favourites. "Because, Potter, the one thing we have been raised to understand more than anything else is power. Understand it, respect it, but most of all, to seek it. And you Harry Potter...you have a lot of power."

"Very observant." Harry commented, waiting to see where this was leading.

"So we don't want to make you an enemy" Blaise finished. "We don't want to be on the other side of the fight. We're not idealistic Hufflepuff's - from childhood we've known that the war will start again one day. And we don't want to be on the other side. Because a Harry Potter that can destroy the dark lord at age one could have been a myth. But since you arrived, we've seen that myth confirmed."

Theodore Nott had been standing closest to the door, and hadn't said a word up until this point. He was a tall, stringy boy who hadn't quite grown into his height yet, and he was twitching nervously. "My father ordered me to watch you," he said. "And I'm watching. But you're one of us, and we just wanted you to know that."

With that, all four of them didn't wait for a response, but headed for the door. Daphne was last, and she gave both Harry and Ron long looks, before tossing her blond hair and exiting.

"Phew!" Ron said, turning to Harry with raised eyebrows. "I bet the Gryffindors never have to deal with that kind of in-house drama. Do you trust them?"

"Trust them? Absolutely not. But you don't always have to trust your allies...just keep a very close eye on them."

"Rather you than me mate," Ron said fervently. "Lessons are hard enough, let alone factoring all this mini-auror stuff into it."

They stood up to leave, returning the chairs to behind the desks they had come from. As they closed the door behind them and headed to their first lesson of the day, Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Thank Merlin for that," he grinned. "We need a bit of Weasley sense around here - we can't all be sneaky Slytherins."

\\/

After the confrontation, life went back to normal. Harry continued using wandless magic whenever he could manage it, and the other Slytherins watched with narrowed eyes.

Every Friday afternoon, the quartet met up by the lake in increasingly chilly weather, to practice their spellcasting. Hermione and Harry usually ended up coaching Ron and Neville, who were finding it harder to keep up, although Harry found it difficult to use his wand and still preferred wandless. He had hoped it was simply a matter of practice, and things would resolve themselves. But over two months into term, and he still couldn't cast without whatever he pointed his wand at going completely haywire.

Professor McGonagall had tried to have several conversations with Harry about wandless magic, but it was difficult when Harry couldn't tell her how exactly he was doing what he was doing. Since he had been trained to use his magic like that since he was a small child, it seemed so natural that trying to work out how it happened actually made his magic feel clumsier, like he was concentrating too hard on it.

Hermione had been researching it for him, and the closest explanation she had found was in Wilde Magick of Africa. Harry had a great deal of trouble deciphering the book, which was written in old English. The book also contained horribly casual racist comments towards the African magicians the book authors had studied, making Harry's blood boil.

Hermione convinced him to look past the language, and pay attention to the content. "It's like this;" she explained to him. "Your grasp of your magic was developed when you were very young, to the extent that you had considerable control over it. That means you're able to direct your focus more easily, and your 'store' of magic so to speak, grew much stronger."

Harry nodded - he understood that much. They were sitting in the library late one evening, when the only other students were Ravenclaws. Harry had come to find Hermione to remind her to bring a book they were working from to the next Friday session, and found her instead studying the enormous tome on Africa.

Madam Pince shot them a glare as the last few other students left, and looked pointedly at the clock. Hermione began talking much more quickly in a hushed whisper that Harry had to lean forwards to hear.

"But here's the thing - African magic was never meant to be used with wands. And that's where this book falls down really - they can't even comprehend someone trying to mesh this kind of wild magic with a wand - it's like oil and water. It shouldn't even work."

"So you're saying I shouldn't even be using a wand?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"Well, yes and no," Hermione said awkwardly. "Are you familiar with wizarding law revolving around wand use?"

"Vaguely."

"In Britain, humans are the only magical species allowed to carry a wand. Centaurs aren't, goblins aren't, vampires aren't, house elves certainly aren't."

"Okay..?"

Hermione brushed her hair out of her eyes impatiently. "What this means Harry, is that there are millions of sentient, magical being who have exactly the same intelligence as humans, are perfectly capable of performing magic, but aren't allowed a wand."

"That's ridiculous!"

"It is, but the ministry are scared that they'd be overthrown."

Harry filed this information away in his head, knowing he would revisit it later. He had the feeling he had just been told something monumental, something that would prove to be incredibly significant, and he couldn't wait to talk it over with Kingsley. But he had to focus on the problem at hand first.

"So what does that have to do with me?"

"If you chose not to carry a wand, legally, then you wouldn't be allowed the status of wizard, which gives you almost no options in our society." Hermione said apologetically.

Harry sat back in his chair, and sighed, running his hands through his dreadlocks and twisting them into a low ponytail.

"Well shit," he summarised.

Madam Pince swooped down on them as though she had been hovering behind. "Language! Foul language in the library! Get OUT!"

They ran for cover.

\\/

November was also the beginning of the Quidditch season. On Saturday, the Slytherins had been informed they would all be expected to appear to support their house in the first match of the year: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Slytherin won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Harry and Ron talked about flying constantly since their first lesson. Both were determined to try out for the house team next year. From the sound of things, so was Malfoy and a few other Slytherins though - so they expected competition.

"Fred and George are both on the Gryffindor team," Ron explained as they sat on their beds in the dormitory one night, before the other boys had come upstairs. "And my older brother Charlie was Gryffindor quidditch captain. So its in the blood really," he said hopefully.

"I wish broomsticks weren't banned back home," Harry said glumly. "I won't be able to get any practice in all summer."

"You'll have to come visit the burrow!" Ron said enthusiastically. "We always have a few brooms spare."

Harry pulled his pyjamas on and gazed at his bedside table where he had a few pictures of himself, Kingsley, Mad-Eye and a few members of Kingsley's family. He missed them, but the summer was long. "Yeah. Maybe, I'd like that,"

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

Ron and Harry visited the Gryffindor table to wish Fred and George good luck, and then offered up several options of how they could cheer them up when Slytherin inevitably won. Their good natured banter was interrupted when Professor McGonagall chivvied them back to their table, but Harry could have sworn he saw surprise in her face when she realised they were only being friendly.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Hermione joined Ron and Harry in the Slytherin stands, and they waved good-naturedly to Neville who was sitting on the other side of the stands from them with Gryffindor, a vaguely resigned expression on his face. Hermione had a thick book in her hands already, having admitted she couldn't care less about quidditch, especially when Ravenclaw wasn't even playing.

"But if either of you get onto the team I promise I'll watch," she said to Harry and Ron apologetically, before diving nose-first back into her book.

Both teams exited the changing rooms and walked onto the pitch, and the stands exploded with cheers. Harry and Ron whooped and hollered as the green-clad Slytherin team stalked to the centre of the pitch, broomsticks clutched in their hands, glaring at the scarlet Gryffindor players.

Harry couldn't stand most of the team, especially Marcus Flint. But this was different. This was quidditch.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"

"JORDAN!"

Harry looked over to the Gryffindor stands to see a boy he vaguely recognised doing the commentary. He noticed the boy had excellent dreadlocks though, and made a note to compliment him on them. Professor McGonagall stood over him, glaring at him every time he made an inappropriate comment.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc— no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

The Slytherins groaned and booed, Harry and Ron as loud as the rest.

At the game progressed, it became clear that the Gryffindor chasers were far superior to the Slytherins, a fact that the commentator Jordan seemed gleefully aware of. When the score was fifty to nothing in favour of Gryffindor, Harry sighed and leaned over Hermione's shoulder to read her book.

"Developments in Alchemy since 1300?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

Hermione blushed. "Just a bit of extra reading."

"Mental," Ron commented, his binoculars glued to the Slytherin keeper who had just failed to save another goal. He groaned, shaking his head at the lacklustre performance.

Harry was actually quite well versed in Alchemy. Several summers of his childhood had been spent with a close friend of Mad-Eye's who was an expert. Five year old Harry had initially avoided the 'grown-ups' conversation and spent time with the alchemist's wife Perry instead, usually playing outside on the beach. But as he got older, he found himself more and more interested.

He just about to ask Hermione where she had reached in the book, when there was a commotion from the stands. The Slytherin seeker Terence Higgs was neck in neck with the Gryffindor seeker and they were both streaking towards the ground. The crowd erupted in screams and cheers, and even Hermione craned her back to watch.

Harry and Ron leapt to their feet to get a better view - they were neck in neck - Slytherin was pulling ahead just slightly - they were nearly at the ground -

Suddenly Higgs pulled out of the dive in a spectacular swoop skywards, as the red robed Gryffindor seeker who Harry didn't recognise crashed into the ground. The crowd gasped and the Gryffindors groaned, a few girls screamed. The Gryffindor seeker stirred feebly as his teammates landed to help him, but the Slytherins weren't paying attention.

"We won!" Ron roared, as the Slytherins around them cheered and whooped. Harry cheered as loudly as the rest, but privately smiled as he looked at Ron - the red headed boy had clearly completely reconciled himself to being a Slytherin - house pride and all.

\\/

As they walked back up to the castle after catching up with Neville, they found themselves uncomfortably close to Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle. The blond boy was clearly aware of this, for he began talking loudly:

"It's a shame Higgs is leaving Hogwarts this year, he's won us the house cup for the last six."

"I actually didn't know that," Harry commented to Ron.

"-So naturally Flint is already considering me for replacement seeker. I mean, we have to have try-outs just for the image really, but Father has already offered to buy the whole team new broomsticks, and it's practically settled..it's all about who you know."

Pansy Parkinson tucked her arm into the crook of Malfoys. "You'll win every game," she cooed.

Malfoy preened, then glanced back over his shoulder. "Its a shame that some people aren't as skilled on a broomstick. Did you see the stupid twins the Gryffindor team has playing? But then considering they can barely afford broomsticks..."

Ron tensed, and Harry laid a hand on his arm. "Allow me," he said with a tiny smirk.

A moment later Malfoy seemed to trip over something on the ground, but when he put out his hands to break his fall, he landed rather heavily on one arm. There was an audible crack, and Pansy shrieked, dropping to her knees beside Malfoy. "Draco..Draco what happened!"

Ron and Neville burst out laughing. As the four of them drew level with Malfoy who was lying on the ground cradling his wrist, Harry called out to him:

"Not that wrist again Malfoy? You've got to learn to be more careful. Don't want to build up a permanent weakness - that's no good for a seeker."

Crabbe and Goyle glowered, but clearly thought better of picking a fight - perhaps they were remembering the train incident. Hermione though, was oddly silent. When they have moved well past the group, she turned to Harry with an unreadable expression. "Was it really necessary to break his wrist?" She asked, sounding troubled. Harry remembered she hadn't been present for the incident during their flying lesson.

Harry posed a question for Hermione instead. "That arrogant prick has called you a mudblood on more than one occasion. Do you want him to do it again?"

"Of course not. But -"

"What did you do the last time he called you a mudblood when we weren't around? And I know he has."

"I ignored him," Hermione said quietly.

"And did that stop him?"

"No."

"Sometimes ignoring someone can make it stop. But with bullies like Malfoy, it will only make him think you're weak. And then he'll do it again - only maybe this time he tries to push the issue even further."

"But does that mean you have to break his wrist?"

"Brutality isn't fun Hermione, but it gets the message across. Madam Pomfrey can heal that in seconds, but the memory will last a lot longer. This is the second time I've broken his wrist, and maybe this time the message will stick."

As they spoke they had entered the entrance hall, and Hermione nodded. She seemed lost in thought. Ron and Neville hung back, arguing over the match. Ron was trying to convince Neville to try out for Gryffindor next year, and Neville was trembling at the very prospect. The last thing Harry heard before they split up for lunch was Ron telling Neville he would have to visit over the summer to play quidditch too.

\\/

Thanks for reading, and thanks for the reviews. Nobody is obligated to review my little story, but those of you who do are very kind.

The baby has been a bit difficult today so I haven't got as much writing done as I usually do, but I'll try and catch up tomorrow, so hopefully the update won't be late.

-Cas