Fairy Tail
000
When Dudley throws a book at his cousin's head, no one could have known the revolution it would spark in the years to come. "I want to start my own Guild! My own family!"
No pairing.
000
Chapter Eleven
Dear Harry and Carla,
Thanks for your letter. Things here at Smeltings aren't bad. Not as cool sounding as Hogwarts, that's for sure. I don't know why Dad hyped the place up so much, it's not that great in all honesty. You saw the uniform. The dormitories are just as ugly. Maroon everywhere. We have long dormitory halls, about twenty of us in a floor. Thankfully we get our own beds, not bunkbeds to share. Got a desk, chest of draws, and some boxes under the bed. I got lucky and managed to snag a window too so no worries about Erza coming and going secretly. I told her to use the tree outside the window to rest in or hide in when I'm not alone.
We've got a Dormitory Monitor, Mr Fredericks, he's fairly nice, but also really strict. He already assigned Piers kitchen duty when he caught him talking during the safety briefing. Tomorrow we're going to go through it again first thing after breakfast including where the fire-evacuation points are, the infirmary, and the local police station – just in case. According to Jordan, one of the Prefects, there was a thing a few years before his older brother came to the school, some psycho took the place hostage with a gun. One of the first years slipped out of the shower-room window and sprinted to the police station, he was local so he knew where it was, if it had been anyone else, they wouldn't have known where to go. Scary huh?
I'll tell you more later. I haven't even seen inside the main building yet, we had orientation out on the field before being escorted to the dormitories to put our things away.
Love,
Dudley
000
Harry had never believed that he would meet a boy he ended up resenting more than he did Dudley back in the beginning of Junior school. Theodore Nott was swiftly making his way into Harry's bad books. The problem was, the first year Gryffindors only had Potions on Friday morning with the Slytherins, so he didn't have much opportunity to see Draco, and every time he tried, Nott stuck his beak in and started spewing what scarily enough sounded like Neo-Nazi-esque propoganda. All this pureblood mania, how Blood Traitors and Mudbloods were a plague that needed to be controlled before they destroyed the Pureblood way of life. Yadda yadda yadda.
Harry was three inches away from decking the boy and seeing if his Pureblood could protect him from a knuckle sandwich. He always stopped himself though, told himself that everyone was entitled to their opinions and beliefs and it wasn't his place to get involved or deny them that right. He wasn't going to be a bully. He refused. He would not grow up to be his Uncle.
On the bright side, he and Neville finally started their Potion regimen. And Professor McGonagall dragged the rest ofg the first year Gryffindors in to Madam Pomfrey for similar check-ups, muttering all the while about how she had been petitioning for this for two decades and enough was enough. Harry didn't know what to make of it, he wasn't supposed to hear her – as she was on the otherside of the room – but his ears were fantastically good.
Neville's concentration and memory retention in classes was way up, Harry was taking him on a light run in the mornings along with Carla (when Hermione found out about the runs she looked simultaneously hurt that they hadn't invited her, horrified over how early it was, and grateful that they were letting her sleep in, she later said that she would join them after Christmas when she could collect her running shoes from home as she had only brought her school shoes and slippers with her to Hogwarts). Harry spent the first Sunday he had at Hogwarts in the Hospital Wing with the bones in his feet gone and regrowing. It was horrifically distracting and painful. Like a burn but inside and full of needles. Intellectually he knew it was the splinters of his bones regrowing, but that didn't stop the pain. Instead, he threw himself into helping Carla with her Aera project in order to distract himself from the pain.
The regrown bones felt weird as all hell, almost too heavy for him. He found himself staggering and unbalanced more than once. After a month though, it wasn't too bad, the bone growth process had reached his thighs, they would be doing his pelvis soon before he would have to go to St Mungos for a weekend in order to do his spine – that was too delicate and risky for him to not be under observation by professionals.
It was after that first month, they found the notice on the Common Room board.
Flying Lessons would be starting on Thursday.
Gryffindor and Slytherin together.
"Excellent," Harry declared, "Wonder if they'd let me bring Carla..." While there had been no problem with Professor McGonagall after the first initial difficulties, Professors Sprout, Sinistra, and Quirrel weren't so accommodating. Professor Flitwick was fascinated, constantly asking what charm work went into her only to have the stately little cat give him a stern dressing down, or attempt to. Professor Flitwick was so genuinely affable and friendly that she found it quite impossible to be furious with him when they continued to speak. While she was welcome in his classroom, she was not welcome to interrupt the lessons, which wasn't fine with her, but the best she was going to get. She was coming to an unpleasant realisation that no one in the Wizarding world seemed to consider those who weren't also human worth the time of day.
Wizards seemed obsessed with flying, and neither Harry nor Carla could blame them. Quidditch though, was another thing entirely and as interesting as it sounded, Harry didn't much care for it. Carla, surprisingly enough, soaked up any information on the sport she could find, defensively declaring that the aerial manoeuvres could be advantageous when she finally figured out Aera. Hermione was terrified of heights and had gotten out several books about flying, broomstick manufacturing, and Quidditch from the library and could be found reading them out to Neville in the common room, the nervous boy hanging on her every word. He, like all the other muggleborn, had never been on a broom before in his life. His grandmother apparently felt that he was too clumsy for it. Harry felt that if his Uncle weren't sabotaging him at everything, Neville wouldn't have such crippling confidence issues.
The halfblood and pureblood boys were all bragging about their experiences with flying, some sounded interesting, others impossible. Draco could be heard bragging about how he escaped from muggles in helicopters, but from the descriptions, he didn't even know what a helicopter was. Which set both him and Carla off laughing – as the only ones with sharp enough hearing to catch that particular story.
The morning of their first lesson had Erza return with another letter from Dudley telling them how he'd made a friend by the name of James who liked the same Zombie survival computer games as he did. Neville received a small glass ball with an odd coloured fog inside of it from his Grandmother.
"It's a Remembrall," he explained to Harry and Hermione. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "You've forgotten something..."
Harry chuckled making him look up, "Common Room password?" he suggested, it was the thing his friend forgot the most often. Neville turned pink and screwed his face up before it slackened in dismay.
"Oh no!"
Hermione giggled, "Relax Neville. It's Pigsnout," she reassured him. Harry withdrew a muggle biro from his bag and caught his friend's hand, Neville squeaked in surprise and then stared, slack jawed, as Harry wrote the word onto the back of his hand with ease, the tip of his odd muggle quill not even scratching him, and the ink staying put, not even rubbing off.
"Th-that's not permanent, is it?" he asked warily as he looked down at his hand, rubbing it cautiously.
Harry shook his head, "Nope. It'll wash off easy, wear off within two or three days, depending on what you do," he explained to the curious pureblood. "I used to draw on my arms a lot at school."
"Harry," Hermione scolded disapprovingly, frowning even as her lips twitched a little.
"Like you didn't," he retorted playfully.
Hermione was very conspicuously silent to that comment, primly sipping her milk. Harry laughed and scribbled a small symbol on his hand, Neville watching on curiously.
"What's that mean?" he asked, tilting his head, "I looks like a squished doxie..."
Harry laughed, "It's the Fairy Tail symbol," he told the other boy, tugging out his necklace to show him the blue pendent. "It's a comic made by civilians about magic users in a completely different world called Fiore where everyone knows about magic and they all work together to help each other. Magic users band together in Guilds where they work as... pretty much mercenaries. They get job requests through to cure the sick, rebuild this place, tame this monster, kill that monster, arrest bandits in this or that area, stuff like that. The story follows the Strongest Guild in Fiore, Fairy Tail, and the people who work there."
Neville looked nervous, "Muggles know about magic?" he asked anxiously, both he and Hermione had gotten used to his peculiarity of calling muggles civilians. Hermione actually preferred it, it was less offensive and didn't have her father looking like he was chewing earwax, but Neville had grown up with the word and continued to use it without realising how offensive it could be – and neither Harry nor Hermione thought to enlighten him, just brushing it off as a wizard thing.
Harry nodded, "They don't think it's real. But they know about it in stories, myths, legends. You'd be surprised how much they're willing to just not see in order to keep the world understandable in their minds." Privet Drive was a prime example of how people could ignore the bleeding obvious just to keep the world nice and understandable. They lived in a good neighbourhood, people went to Church on Sundays, sent their children to school, worked hard in London, mothers stayed at home to cook and clean, it was perfect. A little boy couldn't be abused in such a place. Harry shook himself, it wasn't like that anymore. He had proven them wrong. No need to dwell on it. He shouldn't dwell on past wrongs. He was here, alive, now. Happy and whole with friends and hopefully family.
The rest of the day Harry spent watching Hermione and Neville from the corners of his eyes. Did he tell them about his magic? Professor McGonagall's reaction, and the way Mr Ollivander reacted, had made him a mite bit wary of using his Fairy Magic in front of others – Harry had taken to carrying an empty bag with him and then Requipping what he needed inside of it so people wouldn't notice. And he had yet to find somewhere to perform his lightning magic safely.
Neville he figured he could trust, he was pretty accepting upon being proven wrong on something. Open minded.
Hermione would demand explanations, diagrams, proof, and the opinions of their teachers and elders before she would even attempt the magic. Harry wasn't quite sure about whether or not he should tell her. He already knew what magic would best suit her, and a ton of notes on how to work it... but really... could he trust her?
When three-thirty rolled around, he still didn't have an answer as he dropped his empty bag off in the dormitory before hurrying down to the grounds.
The Slytherins were already present, along with about twenty brooms in two neat lines on the lawn. The Weasley twins could be heard complaining to their younger brother about how shoddy the school brooms were, saying that some of them vibrated warningly if you went too high, or flew slightly to the left.
The flying instructor marched over at that point, her short grey hair spiking up at the back as her, quite frankly, awesome hawk-like eyes swept over them imperiously.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked, eyes narrowing. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up," she commanded briskly, marching down between the two rows of brooms.
Harry shifted himself between Neville and Hermione, throwing them both a wide excited grin. The looks he received in exchange were not nearly so enthusiastic. Neville looked positively grey and Hermione had taken on a delicate shade of pale green around the edges of her pale face.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say UP!" Madam Hooch barked out over the heads over her students, hands planted on her hips as those eyes swept up and around them, lingering here and there.
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom immediately jumped into his hand with a sharp snap, quivering eagerly under his fingers. Hermione's rolled over a little like a dog ignoring its master's command and Neville's hadn't moved at all, his tone of voice saying only too clearly that he didn't want to leave the earth. Harry suppressed a grin and shook his head a little fondly at his friends. Maybe if he did teach them Fairy magic they might gain some confidence? It had certainly done wonders for him. He wasn't such a moody, angry little boy anymore. He could laugh and mean it with all of his heart.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows, correcting their grips. Draco flushing in embarrassment when he was told he had been doing it wrong for years. Which was a mite bit unfair, so what? If it worked for him, it worked for him. Not everyone was the same. Maybe he was left-handed?
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch commanded. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two - "
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had even touched her lips, before Harry, who had spotted his movement from the corner of his eye, could grab him.
"Nev!" he yelped fingers brushing the bottom of his robe before he shot straight up like a cork shot from a bottle, Madam Hooch bellowing at him to return as he hit twelve feet, twenty feet. His face was chalk white and Harry could feel his veins turn to ice as he whipped around to Madam Hooch – Why didn't she have her wand out?! Shouldn't she have been casting spells?! Why wasn't she doing anything?!
Harry heard a screech of horror as his friend took one look down and then slip sideways off the broom and SHE WASN'T DOING ANYTHING!
He flung his broomstick over his shoulder and the world narrowed to one single corridor of light.
Hermione screamed as lightning shot past her, scorching the grass.
WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack filled the air as everyone looked down to where Neville lay, face down, on top of Harry Potter in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily towards the Forbidden Forest and out of sight as Harry groaned shakily in pain.
Madam Hooch shot over, her face chalk white as she bent over the pair.
Hermione sobbed in horror as she hurried over.
"Potter? Can you hear me?" the Professor demanded.
"Loud and clear, ma'am, is Neville okay?" the dark haired Gryffindor asked, tilting his head to try and see his friend.
The woman pursed her lips, and carefully shifted the unconscious Gryffindor off the smaller boy, "Broken wrist," she summed up before checking his head, "Must have fainted. He'll live. Now, you boy, where does it hurt?" she demanded briskly.
Harry shifted and touched his chest, "Broken rib. Two are cracked at the very least. I think my collarbone broke too. Other than that, I'm fine. You sure Neville's okay?" he asked, rolling his head to squint at his friend, wincing in pain when the movement sent waves of white hot pain through his head. "Oooh, ow..." he moaned.
Madam Hooch pursed her lips and then turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you is to move while I take these boys to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come now, both of you."
With two flicks of her wand, stretchers were conjured under the both of them and levitated, Harry groaning in pain at the change of pressure on his ribs. Hermione whimpered, hands white knuckled as she pressed them to her lips, cheeks streaming with tears as she watched her friends, her only friends, being carted away by the teacher.
Awkward silence pervaded the group before Nott suddenly darted forward and snatched something up off the ground, "Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him. Useless fat lump," he sneered.
Hermione stared at him, at the Remembrall, Neville's face when he received it from his grandmother swimming through her head, he looked so happy that she would send him something. That she would even think of him and try to send him something helpful. Her blood roared loudly in her ears as she felt Lavender wrap an arm over her shoulders, the blonde girl glaring viciously at the stringy looking boy who was loudly mocking Neville and Harry to the other Slytherins, Parkingson, Goyle, Bullstrode and Moon laughing nastily. Malfoy was quiet and remaining out of it as he stared at the grass indent where Harry had been flattened catching his friend, he was pale and shaking slightly, Blaise, the boy she had sat with on the boat into Hogwarts beside him, both were quiet, Malfoy out of shock, Blaise out of disapproval as he frowned at his classmates.
"Hopefully one of those broken ribs went through a lung or something," Nott declared, "The less of that Blood Traitor's second hand air we're forced to breathe the better our chances of not catching some kind of dis-
SMACK – she didn't know when she'd moved, she wasn't conscious of it as her hand curled into a fist and introduced itself to Nott's face, her whole body turning and leaning into the blow, her fingers curled, thumb on the outside. She hit his cheek, right between the jawbone and the cheekbone, the soft tissue, to lessen the damage to her hand, maximise the bruising, she clipped his nose in the process – he didn't know how to roll with the blow, blood exploded under her knuckles.
Nott howled falling backwards while the rest of the Slytherins shouted in shock and stepped backwards from her as she stepped on Nott's wrist and wrenched the Remembrall from between his fingers, her ears still ringing.
"Anyone of you..." she hissed, limbs shaking with the force of her rage, "Any one of you ever wish for something that horrible, ever have the STUPIDITY to say it in front of me... You will regret it. I will destroy you," she promised glaring at the collective Slytherins with gleaming brown eyes and tear-stained red cheeks, her bushy hair positively seething behind her in the light October wind, her teeth bared and gritted with feral promise. Her knuckles bloody and Nott, squalling on the floor at her feet.
They didn't even think to reach for their wands as she turned and marched back to the castle, back straight, head up.
It wasn't until she reached the Entrance Hall that the trembling of her limbs took her and she staggered against the Marble staircase, gasping and shaking violently, tears pouring down her cheeks as she cradled her hand, it hurt so bad. How could they have said that? They didn't even know him! How could they wish for something so awful to happen to someone so kind? Harry was the nicest person she had ever met! How could they? How could they?
She sobbed into her knees, gripping the rescued Remembrall until Madam Hooch found her on the way back from the Hospital Wing.
000
"HARRY! NEVILLE!" the brown haired girl flew across the Common Room and slammed into her friends as they stepped through the Portrait entrance, her thin arms wrapping around the both of them while her weight bore them to the floor. Harry just laughed and returned the hug whole heartedly while Neville turned scarlet and spluttered, awkwardly patting her on the back.
"Hi 'Mione," Harry greeted, "Fancy meeting you here, fair lady. Mind letting us up off the floor? It's none too comfortable," he pointed out playfully. She immediately leapt to her feet and began to splutter apologies.
It didn't take long for the rest of the First Years to cluster around them, all asking if they were alright as they were ushered to one of the empty couches next to the fire – they had manopolised it all evening, waiting for the two to get back, Hermione had even gone running into the boy's dormitory and returned with their blankets, fussing over the two fretfully until Harry rolled his eyes and caught her around the waist, dragging her between the two of them and tucking her under his arm.
"Stop fussing you," he scolded as he nuzzled her hair, "Neville and I are fine. Madam Pomfrey fixed us up in a jiffy. She just wanted to keep us in for another health examination, see how my bones were doing after regrowing half of them. She wanted to know if I would be ready for the next set. And to see how Neville's lungs were managing. Honestly, we're fine."
"You had half your bones regrown?" Lavender asked, eyeing him curiously. "Why?"
Harry shrugged, grinning as he felt Hermione burrow into his side with a sniffle, "I had mildly brittle bones because I didn't eat so well when I was younger, so Madam Pomfrey's been having me in on the weekends to vanish and regrow them. My legs are done, this weekend is my pelvis and next is my spine, but I have to go to St Mungos for that."
"But... Why didn't you eat so well? Surely you got whatever you wanted, right? You're the Boy Who Lived," Weasley said in confusion.
Harry snorted, "I didn't find out about that until a month before Hogwarts. My aunt and uncle HATE magic, and by extension, me. They thought they could squash the magic out of me, didn't work so well," he added with a snicker.
An awkward silence descended on the group of first years before Lavender suddenly blurted out, "Hermione broke Nott's nose after you got taken to the Hospital Wing."
The girl in question squawked, shooting upright in horror, "I didn't!"
the others laughed, "You do did, Hermione! You really wholloped him!" Pavarti exclaimed in excitement. "You two should've seen it! Nott was bragging about how he hoped your rib got you in the lung - "spewing all that pureblood and blood-traitor bullcrap he always is," Thomas added helpfully, looking positively gleeful – and the next thing we saw was Hermione with her fist drawn back in front of him - "POW! right in the kisser!" Finnigan interrupted with relish, slamming a fist into his open palm with a very satisfying crack of flesh on flesh – yes, thank you Seamus! There was blood everywhere! She seriously broke his nose and then said: 'You ever say anything that stupid in front of me again I'll destroy you!' It was way cool!" the indian girl narrated.
"She got your Remembrall back as well, Nev," Lavender added with a smile from where she was leaning on the back of the sofa.
Sheepishly, in front of Harry and Neville's incredulous gaze, the girl withdrew the afore mentioned glass orb from the depths of her pocket and held it out to her friend.
"Th-thank you so much," he spluttered accepting it with such relief and happiness that Hermione turned pink and refused to look him in the eye.
"But you need to be careful now, Granger," Weasley said, looking uncertain, "Nott swore he'd get you back."
"Said he'd send his Dad to see your parents," Thomas added, looking confused but also anxious.
"No!" Pavarti gasped in shock and anger.
Thomas nodded while the others looked on confused, seeing their looks Pavarti scowled, "Tobias Nott was a suspected Death Eater in You Know Who's rise. He got off by claiming Imperious, saying that no sane man would risk Azkaban just to hunt down muggles having just lost a wife in childbirth. Daddy worked the court for those cases, it was full of holes and he could see people accepting bribes in order to pass. He physically saw Lucius Malfoy pass a vault key to one of the Wizengamot members." She shook her head in disgust, before looking at Hermione in concern, "You need to tell your parents to be really careful. The Death Eaters were a really nasty sort."
Hermione was chalk white but nodded.
"He lays one finger on her family, prison is going to be the least of his concerns," Harry promise darkly, lightning glittering like glass-shards in his eyes.
The first years stayed down in the common room chatting, praising Hermione's punch which, according to Thomas who had seen more than his fair share of them during football riots, had been a thing of beauty. Eventually they all trickled away, Lavender pausing to blush and kiss Harry on the cheek and tell him that it was really brave of him to try and rescue Neville like that before hurrying away with a scarlet face amidst catcalls from a few third and fourth year girls. Finally, it was just Hermione, Neville, and Harry left behind on the couch.
"Guys," Harry said, "I have something I gotta tell you."
000
BAM finished. Didn't think I'd get it done in time for the Sunday deadline but I did. I apologise now, it has not been proof read. Such is the problem with trying to keep to an update schedule. When you're behind, you're behind and don't have time for such things. Hope you've enjoyed it so far.