Harry Potter and the Year he Broke Free

Chapter Twenty-One: Skiving Snackboxes

Harry's suspicions were confirmed almost as soon as he stepped out of the shower. He barely had time to throw on a t-shirt and jeans before the rest of his team came rushing in (minus the girls, of course, this being the boys' changing rooms).

"Shit!" yelped Harry as their clattering footsteps scared the hell out of him. He had been pretty deep in thought, so hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings other than shoving some trainers on.

Ron sat down on the bench beside him, eyes wide and ginger hair ruffled. "Blimey, Harry, what did you flipping do? McGonagall sent us to find you 'cause she can't get the Slytherins unstuck."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Really? I used a pretty simple spell."

"Well, could you come and get them down? They deserve it, but you probably want to make it to Christmas. McGonsie looked ready to kill." added George in a subdued tone.

He smirked. "Nah - they deserved it, and some fresh air'll do them good."

Ron laughed loudly. "Bloody brilliant, though. You should've seen Malfoy's face!"

"Honestly I was just worried whether or not the pole would support Goyle's weight," said Harry lightly. They all had a good laugh at the expense of the Slytherins; Fred, George and Ron filling him in on the details of what happened after he scarpered.

"Don't blame you though - never does well to be caught at the scene of the crime you caused." George said. "Anyway, why'd you do it? Apart from the Slytherins being their usual stuck-up selves, any particular reason?"

he shrugged. "They were just pissing me off."

Ron sighed, rubbing a hand self-consciously over the nape of his neck. "It was my fault. I went after them, but I was just annoyed about that stupid song they were singing. Called 'em a few things, they said things back, but brought Harry into the conversation. Insulting his um..." the boy glanced a little uncomfortably at Harry, who nodded. "His mother."

"What'd they say?" asked Fred incredulously.

"Just the usual. Mudblood, and the like."

Fred growled. "Gits. They were only jealous because we're ahead of them now, points-wise."

"That was a great performance, Harry. That move you pulled on Chang was hilarious; was she too upset afterwards?"

"Don't reckon so. I mean, she said yes to my invitation to the ball, so..." Harry trailed off as George thumped him on the back in celebration.

"Way to go, Harry! Didn't you have a crush on her last year or something?"

His face reddened. "Um, sort of... I don't know."

Fred smirked. "Well, Harry, if you're not too busy snagging all the ladies, could we head up to where you said to discuss... what we mentioned before?" both of the twins looked at Harry furtively. Ron's ears turned scarlet.

"Why won't you tell me what you're up to? I'm your brother!" he moaned, following them to the door. Harry, George and Fred had risen and were making their way to the door, but were stopped by him.

Fred facepalmed. "We will only believe those heinous accusations when you give us supporting evidence. A family tree, perhaps?"

"Birth certificate?" offered George.

Fred frowned. "That could easily be forged." he turned back to Ron. "Got anything else?"

"We have the same fucking name!"

"Weasley is a common name."

Ron spluttered. "No it's fucking not! We live together, under the same roof, same parents! Now stop screwing around with me!"

George turned his head, squinting at him. "Now that you mention it, you look slightly familiar."

"Don't we have charms together or something?" said Fred. "Ah well, no matter-"

"We have business with Harry here!" sighed George dramatically, a grin unfurling on his face. At Ron's outraged look, he added: "Sorry, invite only. We'd best be off."

The twins clasped Harry's shoulder, and trooped up to the school, not giving their raging broth- no, suspected charms classmate another glance.


"Woah... so this is where you live?" said Fred, gazing at the room around him. His jaw was hanging open in surprise, and George's almost matched that exactly.

Harry grinned. "You like it?"

"Hell yeah!" Fred fingered the spines on his expansive bookshelf enviously, occasionally picking out a title to peer at the cover of the book. "How'd you find it? The map?"

He shook his head. "No, this place doesn't even show up on the map."

George looked even more impressed. "Fantastic."

They spent a few more minutes discussing Harry's new quarters. He had been careful not too reveal too much - avoiding the topic of how he actually found the room, as he didn't want to get Dobby in trouble and the extent of the room's talents. All that the twins knew was that it was a spare room that Harry had found through wandering down the corridor one night, only to be surprised with an unexplainable new door. Proceeding inside, he had found the room similar to how it was now, and had added a few personal touches with magic.

Harry didn't exactly know why he told them. It just... felt good not having to lie to everyone he knew. He was human, after all, despite what the Prophet said (the latest rumour being he was secretly a dark wizard, here to obliterate them all, of course disregarding the many times he had previously saved their arses). Last year, he had given the twins his Triwizard winnings since it brought back too many memories. The Diggorys' wouldn't take the money, and all of the guilt he felt over Cedric's death worsened. Harry felt that it was rightfully Cedric's - they had both touched the cup together. Or at least the money should be split in half. However, he could understand why Cedric's parents refused; it would feel like they were profiting from their son's death if they took it.

Fred and George had dreams of setting up a joke shop, but without the funds would never get there. It was a perfect opportunity: Harry would lose his guilt-ridden gold, and the twins would be well on their way to a successful career. It's not like he needed the money anyway, what with his many capacious vaults full of cash. All that Harry hoped was that Mrs Weasley didn't explode when she found out.

Anyway, they were all standing his room, and Harry was quite eager to find out why they had summoned his presence.

"What is it you wanted to show me, anyway?" asked Harry. He was pretty excited to see what the twins had come to show him.

Fred looked over at his twin, then nodded. "So, over the summer we developed some stuff. It's still early days, but we've actually got things worth selling." Fred had a steely look in his eye, and had swapped persona to something of a businessman. Harry was surprised they could be so professional. They really were serious about this.

"See, look," said George, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a number of brightly-wrapped sweets, bars, and potions. They had taken a quick break to get showered, and presumably stock up with some of their best stuff. "We've created a line we like to call 'Skiving Snackboxes'. They consist of fever fudge, fainting fancies and puking pastilles and nosebleed nougat." He pointed to each sweet in turn.

"Still in testing," added Fred. "We're fine-tuning the fancies and the nougat isn't always reliable."

They both looked at Harry, who inclined his head in understanding.

"Plus, we made toothache tonic, canary creams, and some pimple lotion." George continued. "The tonic simulates toothache, except instead of pain it's just sort of a funny tingle to let you know when you need to cry out."

"Have to make it convincing," said Fred.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "What about tests, or examinations? Can they fool medi-wizards?"

"The weaker ones they should be able to withstand, but we didn't want to make it too realistic, or bung up any important tests. These are just to get an afternoon off school." George shrugged, speaking in a casual tone.

"Name makes more sense now," Harry remarked. "What does the pimple lotion do, and how do the pustules work?"

"Apply a little of the lotion on your face, and within 5 minutes a spot will appear!" said George, finishing with a flourish and a swish of hands over the bottle.

Harry smirked. "Did you practise that in the mirror?"

"You bet your ass I did." he replied proudly.

Harry nodded, getting the gist of things. It seemed they had put the money to good use. They spent another good half an hour just talking, the twins displaying the uses of each triumphantly. Harry knew he had made the right choice in giving the winnings to them.

Time flew by, and before they knew it lunchtime had arrived.

"Alright, Harry, we're gonna head down to lunch. You coming?" said Fred, walking towards the door with George in tow.

"Nah, I just need to do a few things first." replied Harry with a small grin. "Oh, and I'm really pleased with the stuff, by the way!"

"Glad you liked it. Made me nervous for a second that you were going to say you hated it all," laughed Fred. "We'll show you any new products we get round to developing. See ya, Harry." Him and George said goodbye, and then they were gone.

Harry was pleased; he was very happy with the proceedings so far. The twins had accomplished a lot more than he could have imagined, in a shorter time frame than he thought. Although, he wasn't too pleased they were getting ingredients from Mundungus - the man seemed likely to double-cross them and leave them high and dry. Fred and George said they have the same concerns and had formulated an escape plan if it came to the worst. Equally, they admitted a lot of their operation relied on his bringing the ingredients in, so Harry wanted to find a more secure way around that.

They had also said that they were beginning to work on more dangerous things, practical jokes. Rather than the mostly tame potions and sweets they were sticking to the twins had said they wanted to progress to making their own spells, armour, and other things. This was where Harry could help. In fact Fred and George seemed taken aback at Harry's offer to do some vigorous research, but what did they expect when they saw his bookshelf nearly buckling completely under the weight of all his books?

Harry real talent was accumulating objects. Like every time he turned around there was even more stuff cluttering round his room, previously his house. Despite Dobby's constant offers to help him finally clean up and sort through the insane amount of things he owned, he refused. Harry liked his clutter. It was all his, and he couldn't bear to throw anything away. It just made him smile after thinking about Aunt Petunia's reaction to the obscene amount of books he owned. His room was a tip ninety percent of the time, shoes, books and clothes piled up in every corner. Trying to count the amount of books he had was a losing battle.

Thanks to a few household spells, his room hadn't looked too bad when Fred and George came to pay a visit. Of course he hadn't the heart to deny the books sprawling nearby his desk their space. Or the plants on his window ledge. Or the bottles of ink crowding his desk. What? They were having a deal... seven bottles for the price of five...

Okay, he had spent enough time holed up in his room. Now he had to go and meet Cho, before heading down to the Shrieking Shack this afternoon. And then he had to meet Sirius tonight as well. Damn, he would be pretty busy today. No point dwelling on it though. As Harry turned to the door, a sudden wave of dizziness swept over him, discombobulating his mind and numbing his senses. All he was attuned to was the lump forming in his throat, edging closer and closer up his chest... no! Not now. Harry swallowed down the knot, and dashed to his potions rack. Pepper up... stomach strengthener... where the hell where they?

A thought struck his mind: of course! His schoolbag. Harry wrenched it from its cosy spot in the corner, and impatiently tossed aside quills and scrolls, eyes finally landing on the colourful bottles stacked at the bottom. Aha! He swigged them back in quick succession, feeling his feet becoming more centred and head stop spinning. The room came into focus again.

Probably just over-excited, thought Harry. His thoughts couldn't help drifting back to the night before... maybe it hadn't gone away? Was he still sick? Harry had scoured every book entailing diseases with symptoms like his, but nothing had come up. A voice in his head broke in, reminding him of a niggling sensation he'd had for a while. One section that Harry hadn't checked was the phycological ones - the stuff you go to a mind-healer for. But if he did have something from there... it would only prove everyone right. Harry was really insane.

He didn't know too much about psychiatrists, or mind-healers, only that the Dursleys' had said people who go to them are nothing but attention-seeking time-wasting lunatics. Basically everything the Prophet was calling him. Also, if he did try visiting one, everyone would worry. They would want to know what's wrong with him, and then he would have to inform them about his lifestyle. The one that included him chugging potions to get him through the day since he didn't sleep anymore. Harry was pretty sure the mind-healer wouldn't know how to help him anyway.

Was there anything wrong with him in the first place? Was he just... upset over Cedric's death? Maybe everyone went through this and he was being too sensitive. He brushed away the thoughts impatiently, putting his mind back onto the matters at hand. Harry had a busy day ahead of him - no distractions. After grabbing a few potions for the road ahead, he was out of the door.


That was the most humiliated he'd ever been. Ever. People stared and laughed at him, and all he could do was squirm and feel his face growing hotter and hotter with each giggle and snide remark. Well, he should've known better than to mess with Potter, really. Not after seeing him stand up to Albus Dumbledore, one of the strongest wizards in history, or running away for six months and coming back obviously more powerful than when he previously disappeared.

You could sort of sense the hum of power coming off Potter. At least Draco could. His powerful stares seemed to reflect much more than just his irises, and everything from his gait to his customary bored expression just screamed 'leave me the fuck alone, or I will blast you through a wall'. That didn't stop Pansy, though; the idiot continued to insult his dead mother to his face while Potter grew visibly angrier with every syllable that reached his ears. Would it have killed the stupid bitch to shut up for ten seconds, so they could get out of there alive?

Draco had tried to hurry things along. Thing is, he sort of insulted him even further at the same time... well Potter was being weird anyway. For a moment, Draco thought Potter had actually gone mad - that creepy smile stretched across his lips and his eyes twinkling with malice. Then he lobbed them all into the quidditch rings.

Father would not be impressed, one with the way he had been so easily defeated and secondly for riling the saviour of the wizarding world up to that extent. He had splattered the Malfoy name with yellow, painting his family as a bunch of cowards. The Malfoys were supposed to be imposing, and twelve steps ahead of everyone else; not wriggling about stuck in a giant hoop fifty feet off the ground. As his father always said: the heir reflects the rest of the family, so behave.

They were the words Lucius had spoken to Draco as the Hogwarts Express was beginning to move, giving eleven-year-old him just moments to scramble on board. Luckily nobody was looking. He took those words to heart, as he did with every piece of knowledge his father gave him. Every smidge of advice was followed within a heartbeat, never questioned, rarely explained. But he wasn't eleven anymore - he was fifteen.

Four years doesn't seem so long, but Draco knew he had changed. The mere mention of defying his family and leaving them all behind would've had first-year him trembling in his boots. As would Voldemort, but now he was expected to go and join the madman in his slaughtering of innocents. The belief that muggles and mudbloods were below him were essentially bred into him, and he carried that thought with him as he pranced about Hogwarts like he owned the place. Draco wasn't an idiot - some silly title and a vault full of money couldn't protect you from the Dark Lord's wrath. Nothing could.

Staying away, keeping safe was a sure way to survive. He knew it made him a cowardly squit who only cared about himself, but it was true. The only person he would take with him would be his mother: everyone else could drop dead. His fellow snakes were important to him, yes, but could he die for them? Draco wasn't sure. He didn't know if they would do the same for him. His mother, however, he would kill for. She was the one who spoke to him truthfully, each word punctuated with love and trust. Never in public though. They had reputations to maintain.

But his mother was deeply imbedded in this lifestyle from the first war, so Draco knew she would never go with him. Narcissa loved Lucius too much, and was almost blind to his many faults. Staying with his mother, father, and therefore the death eaters and him meant that Draco knew full well what his purpose was. Marry well, produce a male heir, and don't screw up. Add gold to the family vaults. Don't tarnish the family name.

Draco's entire life had already been mapped out, and he was only fifteen.

Malfoy reckoned they'd been up there around forty minutes when McGonagall finally managed to work out the counter-charm and get them down. He was chilled to the bone by the freezing December cold, and felt dizzy and nauseous. His stomach felt numb from being pressed against the cold metal for so long. Needless to say he was glad when McGonagall ordered they all be sent to the hospital wing immediately. At least he could barely sense the amused stares and giggled directed his way because he was so out of it. From the looks on Goyle's, Crabbe's, Pansy's, Blaise's and Theo's faces, they felt similarly ill.

The rest of the morning went past in a hazy fog, and all that Draco really felt like was curling up by the fire and keeping warm. Pomfrey had deduced that there was nothing wrong with the Slytherins, so they were all sent back to the dormitories where they were laughed at by all the other students. Malfoy tried to keep his shoulders straight, head up as he sauntered through the corridors, casual smirk sending the message that he basically owned the place. His family had taught him to always keep good face.

Draco just hoped all the giggles and stares would subside soon, because it was deeply annoying. He felt like throwing everyone who snickered through a window. But he knew all the embarrassing re-enactments of the morning's events paled into comparison what Lucius would do to him. A good beating would probably suffice in 'teaching him a lesson'. At least he had a full week until Draco had to return to the manor. He would make use of his free time.

Lying on his bed in the dormitory, Draco sighed heavily into his pillow. Did it have to be Potter? Things always hurt so much when they were done by the one you love; not that Draco would ever tell him that.


Sirius knocked on the door neatly, alerting the red-headed woman busying herself around the kettle that someone else was there. She turned, and smiled briefly.

"Oh! Sirius, do you want a cuppa? I was just here to check on the curtains in the drawing room - the doxy infestation is very persistent."

He waved an arm through the air. "It's fine. I wanted to have a word with you anyway." Molly's warm gaze turned into one infused with questions. "About Harry," Sirius added, running a hand through some of his dark locks distractedly.

Mrs Weasley filled up the kettle, then set it down on the stove to boil. "I'm guessing you wanted to talk to me because I have more experience with teenagers? They can be very difficult sometimes."

"Yeah. I just... I'm really worried about him, Molly." admitted Sirius, looking at her with a hurt expression.

She nodded. "Anyone would be. He's fifteen and incredibly famous for a great tragedy he can't even remember. That in itself is a lot for someone to handle."

"And then you add on all of the other stuff: living with, by the sounds of it, an abusive family, the Triwizard tournament, Voldemort. I heard in his second year he defeated a basilisk, then in his first his Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor tried to kill him. On several occasions." Sirius groaned, kneading his forehead with his knuckles. "I'm just not sure how deal with it all."

Molly made a noise of agreement. "Don't worry, I don't either. And what would we do about it? Is there anything wrong?"

"Definitely. Harry seems very stressed out, all the time. I'll bet that's only the tip of the iceberg."

"Have you tried talking about it with him?" Just then, the kettle whistled shrilly, indicating the water had boiled. Molly bustled over, bringing out a patterned mug from a cupboard.

"You sure you don't want anything, Sirius?" she offered, pointing at the kettle.

"No, no, I'm alright." he replied, watching her absently as Molly pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Sirius pulled out a chair opposite her, and sank into it.

Sirius sighed. "Did you hear about what happened yesterday?"

She shook her head, blowing some steam off the milky brew in front of her.

"I don't know exactly, but he performed some sort of crazy magic in Transfiguration and then collapsed with blood streaming out of his eyes, ears and nose." Molly's eyes widened, and she gasped and tittered when he got to the end of his piece.

"I know, I know! That was my reaction too. I went over to see him immediately after Dumbledore floo'd me in the hospital wing."

"Do you know if he's okay? That seems rather serious."

Sirius shook his head. "He was so still in the hospital wing, and he looked a mess. Like he hadn't slept in weeks."

"Is Harry still there now?"

"No. He left last night, after we..." his voice dropped guiltily, and Molly sharpened her gaze. "I yelled at him. And he yelled at me. Just about how I wasn't there for him, and then me telling him that he didn't have to deal with everything alone," said Sirius. He looked quite solemn.

"I should've expected it, though. James and Lily were two of the stubbornest people I've ever known, so of course Harry would be exactly the same." A grin broke over Sirius' face as he recalled his two good friends. "I did try. But, well... heat of the moment, you know? I wish I could take back some of the things I said."

Molly thought for a second. "Once, when Percy was eight, he wanted to fill in paperwork just like his father." she chuckled. "He ended up scribbling all over some important files in purple ink. Arthur was tearing his hair out, but left reprimanding him to me. I said some things I... regretted later, and it was a few good days before we were speaking to each other again normally."

Sirius looked a bit lost, so she clarified. "The point is, although it took time, Percy forgave me. And I him. You and Harry might take even longer to set up a kind of bond where he feels that he can talk to you about anything. Don't try and rush it. The Christmas hols will be a good opportunity to get back in his good books and then spend some quality time with him."

Sirius smiled. "Thank you, Molly. And then there's the physical side of things. I don't know what happened, but I know it wasn't normal. Bleeding from your eyes is never a good sign."

"No. I've never really heard of anything like it, disease-wise. Was a curse cast on him?"

Sirius shook his head. "Don't think so. Pomfrey couldn't make heads or tails of it either. Should I take him to Mungo's?"

"I don't think Harry would take that too well."

"I suppose you're right. But nobody's doing anything about it!" he protested. "Albus is content to sit by and guard his secrets, just letting Harry wither away! Last week, I brought him in because of a severe nightmare, where he ended up passing out. Dumbledore hasn't made any effort to follow this up, or see what's wrong. Can everyone just stop with all the secrecy? I don't see why we can't all be honest with one another. It would make things a hell of a lot easier."

Molly just sat there and let Sirius continue. It seemed like he had a lot on his mind, and she was happy to sit and listen. Poor Harry, though. He's definitely had a rough go of things lately - she would have to check on him over Christmas. Everyone was coming here, anyway. Also, she'd have to owl Ron with details...


*I don't own any characters, all rights to J.K. Rowling.

**Hey guys! I felt like in OotP Molly and Sirius didn't get on too well, and I think a friendship between them would be really wholesome lol. Also sorry I know this chapter was really long. Hope you enjoyed, and thank you all so much for the favourites, follows and reviews. See ya, Tea33.