As far as Harry was aware, no one had seen Draco's boggart take form and they hadn't noticed the way he'd purposefully had the boggart focus on him. He didn't have long to focus on this, however, as his first Ancient Studies took place after their Defense lesson.
Harry and Ron wandered up to the seventh floor where their lesson would take place when they caught Hermione racing after them from a separate stairwell.
"You're not taking this class, too, are you?" said Ron in disbelief as Hermione gasped for air.
"I dropped Divination," Hermione said, much to their surprise. While Harry knew that Hermione would've ended up dropping the class one way or another, he was surprised that she'd dropped it not even a week into the new school year.
"What, why?" Ron asked, blinking.
"Divination is woolly," Hermione said with a scowl, "and I'm pretty sure that Professor Trelawney isn't a true seer, either. She's making all of it up."
"Hermione, dropping a subject?" Harry gasped theatrically. "Never would I have seen the day!"
Hermione scowled at him but Ron burst into laughter just as they reached the classroom. They appeared to be the only third years there, the rest of the class being sixth years. They'd likely decided to pass their OWLs before dropping a class for their NEWTs and taking an extra class, which was normal instead of the way the three of them decided to take this class on top of all of their OWL subjects. At least they wouldn't have to deal with an extra class on top of their OWL exams when the time came.
A few of the older students gave them odd looks before their professor, Professor Ares Annalis, ushered them into their classroom. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gazed around curiously. Instead of being set up as a sort of stadium seating usually seen in universities like their other classes, this class instead had groups of tables that seated up to four students. This classroom didn't have many seating options, likely due to the fact that this class wasn't often populated, but it was as large as their other classrooms. The room was decorated uniquely and in a way that had Harry admiring their professor's creativity.
There were posters and statues and stuff with runes etched on them all over the place. A part of the room looked to be a model of the inside of a pyramid (at least that's what Ron was saying, who had been to Egypt just a few weeks prior), while another part of the room resembled a sort of ritual room inside a temple. The remainder of the room was where their desks and the chalkboard were, which held posters of runes and bookshelves full of old-looking tomes and the teacher's desk which was decorated in all sorts of awards, one of which said that Professor Annalis was awarded something that seemed similar to the Nobel Peace Prize but for historians.
"Ohhhh!" Hermione said once she spotted the award. "The Wixen's Chronicle Award is only awarded to those with the best academic papers and experience in their field! Professor Annalis must know a lot about ancient magic, then."
"Egyptian rituals in particular," drawled a familiar voice. Harry turned in surprise. He hadn't known that Draco would be taking this class.
"Really?" asked Hermione tentatively, her eyes shining in interest. "Do you know what types of rituals?"
Draco just shrugged, his eyes on Harry's.
"I didn't know you were in this class, Malfoy," said Harry, tilting his head to the side. He wondered why Draco hadn't told him.
Draco's lips twitched into a smirk. "This is a NEWTs class, Potter, I wanted a challenge." His eyes trailed over to Ron. "So I'm surprised you and Weasley are in this class."
Ron's ears burned red in anger and Harry sent Draco a look that said "Really?" Draco just continued to smirk.
"I'll have you know, Malfoy," said Harry in a pompous tone that sounded remarkably like Percy, "that I am always looking for a challenge." A sly smirk then crawled across his face. "Too bad I don't get one on the Quidditch field."
Ron howled in laughter at Draco's expression. He looked as if someone had slapped him upside the face with a fish.
"Low blow, Potter, low blow," Draco muttered just as Professor Annalis called for their attention.
"Those of you sitting, please stand up," their professor called. He was a middle-aged man with a shrewd, bookish look to him. If it wasn't for the fact that he had dreadlocks and glasses, Harry would have thought that he was related to Hermione. Puzzled, everyone stood from their seats and Professor Annalis continued. "In this class, you will not only be learning the varying ancient magics of our world, but you will also be competing with your classmates in perfecting some of these arts. Some of these arts require the use of the formation of a coven, and so I have taken the initiative to form groups of four students apiece. These will be your partners for the remainder of my class, and they will become your teammates. You will not be able to switch partners once your temporary coven has been formed."
The room became silent in the face of that. Covens were an old tradition in the magical world, something that only those who practised the old ways performed. They were rarely used as you became linked to one another, so it was surprising that their professor was having them create a coven. What interested Harry was the fact that their teacher said that they would be forming a temporary coven.
Harry raised his hand in curiosity and Professor Annalis nodded to him.
"What's the difference between a coven and a temporary coven?" Harry asked him. "I'm assuming there's a difference?"
Professor Annalis nodded. "You would be correct. I would never ask you to make a serious decision such as forming a coven for a mere class. Temporary covens act similarly to magic-bound covens, but as the name says, they are temporary. You can break apart after a period of six months without any consequences, where such a thing would be nigh-impossible in an actual coven."
Hermione's brows creased in a frown as she scribbled all of this down. She raised her hand. "Why is there a trial period? And why can't we break apart before then?" she asked.
"All valid questions. The trial period acts the same as an actual magic-bound coven in which your magic becomes bound to one another, for the lack of a better term. It could be dangerous if you attempt to break apart before your magic has settled, which is why all of you were required to have a permission slip signed in order to attend this class."
The only reason Harry wasn't surprised like Ron was because McGonagall had told him this and she'd been able to sign his form for him as his Head of House. The only reason she couldn't sign his permission form for Hogsmeade was because an actual guardian was needed for that, not someone acting in loco parentis, which was how your Head of House acted in an emergency.
"I didn't know this," Ron hissed into his ear.
"Oh, honestly, Ronald," Hermione said. "Did you not read the note Professor McGonagall sent you saying that she'd sent the permission slip to your parents?" Ron's ears burnt red; a response which meant that he had not, indeed, read the note McGonagall had sent him.
"Now," said Professor Annalis, regaining their attention. "I will be calling four names at a time, in which you will select a table to sit up. These will be your coven-members and teammates for the remainder of my class." The professor went on to list a few batches of names, there was a surprising number of students taking this class, before it was just Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco left.
"Granger, Malfoy, Potter, and Weasley," announced Professor Annalis, "as you are all third years, your magic is less settled, and so you all will be partnered together. I am letting you know now, I will not tolerate any scuffles, so keep your rivalries out of my classroom."
"Yes, sir," all of them said (Ron in a particularly petulant voice as he didn't want to work with Draco) as they sat at the remaining table, which happened to be the closest to the ritual space in the back of the classroom.
Harry curiously gazed at the silver lines forming a pentacle, which Muggles believed to be the sign of the devil and devil-worship, but it was only the inverted symbol that symbolized it. It was commonly used in rituals, reflecting the five elements, and was also a protection sigil. The only traditional-styled ritual he'd seen performed was the one that had sent him and Draco back in time, so he wondered what a true ritual would be like.
Shaking his head, Harry pulled out his textbook and journal for notes as Professor Annalis began to explain the foundations of ancient magic and what they would be studying this term.
The days slowly formed a steady routine—attending classes, studying new subjects, reading interesting tomes and books on time travel to ward away the boredom, chasing a snitch around the Quidditch pitch as it was Oliver Wood's last chance to win the Quidditch Cup, accelerating his and Draco's plan to become friends visibly— and soon enough, Halloween was right around the corner.
Harry wasn't in as bad of a mood as he had been the last time their first Hogsmeade trip was announced.
The Gryffindor common room was buzzing in excitement as Harry wandered in after a particularly strenuous Quidditch practice. Harry raised a brow at his friends.
"What's got everyone so excited?" he asked, plopping down in the open armchair by the fire where Ron and Hermione were sitting, completing their star charts for Astronomy.
"First Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, pointing to a notice on the old bulletin board by the entryway. "End of October. Halloween."
Harry nodded in understanding. He'd forgotten that their first Hogsmeade weekend would take place two days from now.
"Excellent," said Fred cheerily as he walked up to Harry, him and his twin having followed Harry through the portrait hole. Harry had become accustomed to the previously dead redhead's presence, but his heart still clenched a bit at the sight of him at times. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."
Harry's face twisted at the thought of them—he and his dorm mates had gotten caught in a trap of Fred and George's only a few days ago which had employed the use of those exact Stink Pellets—and Hermione seemed to take his expression as one of dejection.
"Harry, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," she said earnestly. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."
"Black's not enough of a fool to try anything in Hogsmeade," said Ron confidently. "Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages—"
"Ron!" said Hermione. "Harry's supposed to stay in the school—"
"He can't be the only third year left behind," Ron argued. "Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry—"
"I don't mind," Harry cut in before this could delve into a row. He'd managed to avoid their fighting so far by adopting Crookshanks himself and warning him away from Pettigrew, but they still managed to find things to fight about. And now, apparently, it was about whether or not he should go to Hogsmeade. At Ron and Hermione's doubtful looks, he said, "Really, I'm fine. I don't need to go to Hogsmeade now. I can just go at a different time. We've got four years, after all."
To stop the conversation from continuing, Harry pulled out his own Astronomy homework to work on.
However, it wasn't long until Ron kept coming up with solutions. "You could use your invisibility cloak?" he suggested.
"No," said Hermione sharply. "And besides, Professor Dumbledore said that the Dementors can see through them."
Harry, knowing the origins of his cloak, wondered if that was actually true. In The Tale of the Three Brothers, it was said that not even Death itself would be able to find those hidden beneath the cloak. Harry had also come to know that Mad-Eye Moody's eye couldn't see beneath it, either, and it could see through almost any means of magical camouflage. He'd never had to test his cloak against a dementor before, they had been confined to Azkaban after the war and he knew how to cast a powerful Patronus, so he wondered if it would be worth testing.
Hermione, no doubt seeing the consideration in his expressions, said in disbelief, "You're not actually thinking about that, are you? Harry! You said you didn't want to go!"
"What?" said Harry, coming out of his thoughts. "No, I wasn't thinking about that." At her disbelief, he said, "I was just wondering if the dementors could see through my cloak, that's all."
"Our books said that they can see through all means of magical disguise," said Hermione, quoting their Defense textbook. "Why do you think that they'd be able to see through your cloak?"
"Well, my cloak's different, isn't it?" said Harry, subtly casting Muffliato so no one would be able to overhear their conversation.
"What d'you mean?" Ron asked.
"I've done some reading and invisibility cloaks are supposed to wear our, aren't they? Well, my cloak's been in my family for centuries and it's still working perfectly fine," Harry pointed out. Ron and Hermione looked stunned.
"Well," said Hermione after a few moments, gathering her thoughts with the shake of her head, "You still shouldn't try it, Harry."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I won't, promise," he said. Hermione was still doubtful but let it be.
Ron and Hermione didn't bring up Hogsmeade again until that Halloween, and only then, Hermione just promised to bring him some sweets. Harry planned to meet up with Draco while they were gone. They had only gotten a few minutes here and there to speak since they weren't 'friends' yet, and Ron and Hermione started asking questions whenever he was gone for a long enough period of time. They had eventually lost that clinginess as the years went on, but the three of them were still considered attached at the hip at this point in time, meaning that they thought it odd if they weren't together all the time.
Harry wandered down the third-floor corridor as he headed for his and Draco's meeting. The library had small study rooms with charms that made it so that no one could bother you and that no one could hear you, making it a good place for the two of them to meet up to discuss how they were going to handle their time travel. And, Harry thought dryly, how Draco was no doubt going to yell at him for his idiotic idea of getting hurt via Buckbeak.
"Harry?" Harry doubled back to see Remus, who was peering out his office door at him. "What are you doing?" Remus asked curiously. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"
"Hogsmeade," Harry answered.
"Ah," said Remus, and he considered Harry for a moment. "Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson."
"A water demon?" Harry said curiously, remembering that he'd fought a batch of them in the Black Lake during the Second Task.
"You know about them?" Remus said in delight as they wandered into the man's office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water, where a green little creature with sharp horns had its face pressed against the glass, glaring viciously with them and flexing its long, spindly fingers.
"Mhm," Harry hummed. "I've read about them before. Similar to kappas and not as dangerous, but they've got a strong grip, haven't they?"
"They do," confirmed Lupin. "The trick is to break their grip. You notice their abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle."
Harry gazed at the little creature as it bared its teeth before burying itself in a tangle of weeds to hide from their sight. He could remember their grasps on him in the Black Lake, and the bruises Fleur had sported after getting caught by a batch of them.
"Cup of tea?" Remus asked, collecting his kettle. "I was just thinking of making one."
"Please." Remus tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam billowed from its spout.
"Sit down," said Remus as he took the lid off a dusty tin. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid."
Harry shrugged. He was used to cold tea when at the Dursleys' or the already brewed tea at the breakfast table. He didn't really mind.
"How are you finding my class, Harry?" Remus asked as he poured hot water into a mug, which was just as battered as the rest of Remus's mismatched tea set. Harry took the mug and thumbed a chip on it as he thought about what to say.
"They're a bit old," Remus said after a moment, noticing what he was doing.
"My aunt and uncle throw out anything if it's got a chip," said Harry with a shrug. "I prefer them like this, honestly. They're more used, homely."
Remus smiled and sipped at his tea.
"I love your class," Harry answered after a moment, recalling how much Remus's lessons had helped him in the past. "You're much better than our previous professors. Quirrell had a bad stutter so no one could understand him and Lockhart didn't know one end of his wand from the other."
"So I'm only better by proxy?" Remus asked in amusement. Harry grinned.
"No, you're a really good teacher," he said. "You make our classes fun even if you're lecturing and we get to do a lot of practical stuff—which is more than I can say for some of our other classes. We're still going over a good amount of theory in Transfiguration and Charms, and there's only so much you can look at the stars before it gets boring."
"I know I quit Astronomy as soon as I finished my OWL for it," Remus said with a wry twist of his lips. Harry had a feeling that Remus had quit due to the full moon, his boggart and the reason he experienced pain each month. He would have had to be out once a week to study the stars, watching the moon's procession as if was mocking him. Harry didn't doubt that Remus had quit the lesson as soon as possible.
"I plan to quit Astronomy, too," Harry said. "I don't really see the point in it."
They chatted for a few moments about Harry's classes before the conversation lulled. Harry frowned down at his tea as he thought about what Remus had said the last time, about assuming that his boggart would take the form of Voldemort. He wondered if he should bring up Remus's surprise about his boggart, but he wasn't sure if he would be revealing too much or not. He wanted to know Remus's thoughts about Voldemort and his parents' death.
Remus noticed his expression. "Is something worrying you, Harry?"
"Professor," said Harry slowly, "why did you look so surprised after I defeated my boggart?"
Remus looked surprised at his question and he blinked a few times. "Well, I thought your boggart would be obvious," Remus admitted. "I assumed that it would take the shape of Lord Voldemort, and I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic."
"They probably would have," Harry admitted. "But I'm not that scared of him, you know."
"Yes," said Remus absently before saying, "The dementors…"
Harry's brows furrowed and he thumbed that chip on his mug again. "I don't like them," Harry murmured in a soft voice. "I—I hear my mum screaming—"
Remus's face paled a bit but he didn't have the time to say something as there was a knock on the door. Snape entered at Remus's bidding. He was carrying a smoking goblet and he looked at Harry with some sort of unidentifiable emotion in his black eyes, likely having heard the tail end of their conversation.
"Ah, Severus," said Remus pleasantly. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"
Snape did so without a word, his dark eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin.
"I was just showing Harry my grindylow," said Remus pleasantly, gesturing to the tank.
"Fascinating," drawled Snape without looking at it. "You should drink that directly, Lupin."
"Yes, yes, I will," said Remus, picking up the large goblet.
"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape continued. "If you need more."
"I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus."
Snape just hummed, and with another unidentifiable look at Harry, he left.
Harry glanced at the goblet, which he knew held the Wolfsbane potion.
"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me," said Remus once he noticed where Harry's attention was. "I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex. Pity sugar makes it useless," he added, taking a sip and shuddering at the disgusting taste.
"He never makes them taste good," Harry said wryly.
Remus raised a brow. "You've had to take his potions before?"
"I'm pretty sure Madam Pomfrey's marked one of the hospital beds for me," Harry admitted. "I get hurt at least once a month, meaning that I'm familiar with his potions." He showed the silvery scars Buckbeak made on his upper arm as an explanation.
"Ah," hummed Remus.
"You've been feeling ill?" Harry prodded.
"Yes," Remus said with a pleasant smile, looking not at all nervous that Harry would figure out his secret. "This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it."
"Professor Snape's a good brewer," Harry agreed grudgingly, before saying, "but he's not that good of a teacher." Remus raised a brow and so Harry continued. "Well, he's a Potions Master, isn't he? He probably hasn't the patience to teach us 'dunderheads' as he fondly calls us." His voice was dry as he said this and Remus hid a smile behind his goblet. "He hovers over us and takes points for silly things. He's a bit biased, too."
"Most people are," Remus admitted. "Even me."
"Even you?" said Harry in mild disbelief. He couldn't remember an instance when Remus was biased, unless he considered the bias he had against himself as a werewolf.
"Yes," said Remus. "Even me."
Their conversation lapsed and Remus drained the rest of his goblet. "Well, this was a nice conversation, Harry," said Remus as a clear dismissal, "but I'm afraid that I should get back to work. I'll see you at the feast later."
"Of course, Professor," said Harry, and left for the library.
Draco was halfway through a large tome by the time he got to the library. He had reserved one of the smaller rooms for their meeting—something that wasn't usually done but would make sure that they weren't bothered—and he merely lifted a brow in Harry's direction as he walked in about a half-hour late.
"Sorry, I was having tea with Remus," Harry told him, plopping into one of the chairs. Draco didn't make a snarky comment as he usually would have done, and Harry knew why. Draco had seen Harry's grief and he knew how happy he was that he got to see the man alive again. And Draco knew that if he'd been late to a meeting because he got caught up talking with Snape—who Harry learned had been named Draco's godfather by Narcissa after the man had helped her throughout and after her pregnancy, not because Snape and Lucius Malfoy were Death Eater buddies—that Harry wouldn't have made a big deal about it, either.
"I've done some research on covens," said Draco, hopping straight into their topic of conversation for the day, "and from what I've read, our coming back in time shouldn't affect ours or Weasley and Granger's magic."
"Even though our magic seems to have changed?" Harry said with furrowed brows. He was much more powerful now than he'd originally been as a thirteen-year-old. He hadn't been able to cast the Summoning Charm until fourth year, and he'd been able to not only Apparate himself, but also side-Apparate Draco with him, which was a significant feat.
Draco shrugged. "Apparently," he said. "Our magic won't merge or anything like Professor Annalis made it seem like. It'll just… mingle slightly? It's difficult to explain. We'll basically be sharing magic whenever we're doing things as a coven, and sometimes even outside of rituals, but our magic still remains our own."
"Then why did Professor Annalis make it sound like it was dangerous if we were in a coven with someone older?" Harry asked. Professor Annalis had said that the reason they—he, Draco, Ron, and Hermione, that was—were all together was because they were the same age. He'd also explained that having people with differently matured magic bond together was risky and that's why people of the same age usually formed covens, and that they tested compatibility with those older than them.
"Our magic is still technically maturing even if it's different now that we've come back in time," Draco said, and that really shouldn't have surprised Harry as much as it did. He'd figured that since it seemed that his magic and magical knowledge had come into the past with him, that it meant that it had finished maturing. It made more sense that it would continue maturing, though, even as their bodies continued to do so.
"We might be adults mentally, and we may have our seemingly adult magic, but we're still growing physically," Draco said, taking the thought right out of his head. "Your magic grows even as you grow. It stables as we turn seventeen, that's why we're considered adults at that age, but it still continues to mature until we're in our mid-to-late twenties. We're teenagers again, and I'm sure you can remember how much our magic fluctuated when we were teenagers." He gave Harry a pointed look and Harry flushed. Draco was obviously referring to the event with Marge, which had ultimately been due to his magic fluctuating with his emotions, which is what happened as a child matured.
"It's not like you didn't blow anything up," Harry muttered.
"And you would be correct," Draco said without any shame. "That's normal, and that's why I'm saying our magic shouldn't affect the formation of a coven with Granger and Weasley."
"Because we're still maturing," said Harry, now understanding. "And even though our magic has changed, we're still only at the same maturation amount as Ron and Hermione, so there is no real difference to affect the ceremony. Our magic will just come across as being abnormally strong."
"Exactly," Draco said with a nod before teasing, "See, I knew you weren't an idiot."
"You make it sound like you've always thought that…" Harry frowned playfully.
"No, I've actually changed my mind," Draco said suddenly, his grin turning into a serious expression. "For that stunt with the bloody hippogriff, I think you're a bloody idiot. What the hell were you thinking? And why the hell didn't you warn me! Do you have a death wish, Potter?"
"I already told you a few weeks ago," said Harry in a patient tone. "Everyone seeing me save you and willingly get hurt for you made it clear that I'm putting our petty rivalry aside. And don't say that it ruined anything. It accelerated our plan. No one throws us weird looks if we're chatting in the halls anymore! I bet we wouldn't have gotten to this point until Christmas, at least, if I hadn't got hurt for you and you insisted on following me around due to a 'debt'."
Draco definitely didn't throw up his hands in his frustration because he was a pureblood, thank you very much.
"That's beside the point," Draco hissed. "The fact that you just threw away your bloody safety for something as silly as a little friendship credit was completely foolish of you. Do you have no sense of self-worth?"
Harry frowned. "I don't understand," he admitted after a few moments of silence.
Draco frowned, too. "What don't you understand?" he asked, his voice softer than before, as if he was sensing that he needed to be gentle with Harry.
"I thought that you'd be pleased," Harry muttered. Draco's confusion was clear. "I thought that you wanted everyone to see us as friends quickly?"
"I do," Draco said, slowly placing his hands on the table. He appeared to be fighting to keep calm. "But I don't care about how quick the plan goes along or how much you get done if you're sacrificing your health for it."
Harry was completely stunned. No one had really cared about the method he'd used to achieve something and if he got hurt while doing it—they'd only cared about the results. Robards hadn't cared that Harry hadn't slept for days during an investigation about some rogue Death Eaters that had been terrorizing some Muggles and Muggleborns, he'd just cared that Harry had managed to catch them before they could kill anyone or cause any irreversible damage. Kingsley, who had become Minister after the war, had been pleased with all of the Bills and laws that Harry had managed to get passed in the Wizengamot, not caring that he'd run himself ragged studying for his NEWTs and training in the Auror Academy and helping with Hogwarts at the same time. In his childhood, his aunt and uncle hadn't cared how ill or tired he was when forcing him outside to do chores in the hot sun; they'd just cared that the lawn and garden had been perfect and tidy.
Even Ron and Hermione weren't exempt from this. Back in school, Hermione hadn't really thought about Harry's migraines from staring at his text through his poor prescription glasses or how frustrated he'd been after hours of doing so, she'd only cared about the fact that he'd done well on his exams. And Ron hadn't originally seen how much work and effort Harry had put into Quidditch—he'd spent hours on his broom to the point where he'd no longer felt the thrill of flying and he'd even lost some of his precious sleep after Wood woke him at the arse-crack of dawn—until he himself had gotten onto the team himself. He'd only seen how brilliant Harry had been as a Seeker and that he'd won nearly every game he'd played in.
"You don't?" said Harry in a quiet voice.
"No, Harry. Your health is more of a priority than some people seeing that we're becoming friends," Draco said, his grey eyes peering into Harry's green ones.
"Oh." Harry swallowed around the golf ball in his throat. He hadn't realized that Draco had felt this way about him—that he'd care about him rather than the plan—and he suddenly didn't know how to feel about that. "I didn't—"
"Didn't what?" Draco asked. Harry's eyes flickered away from Draco's. He suddenly couldn't look at his friend.
"I didn't realize that anyone would, you know, care about that." By the thinning of Draco's lips, that was the wrong thing to say. Suddenly, Harry couldn't stand being in this room anymore. Couldn't stand the look on Draco's face, the odd expression there in his eyes. "I—I'm gonna go, I just realized that I've got something to do, I'll see you later Draco," Harry blurted, backing away from the table. With a single look at that torn expression on Draco's face, Harry practically ran out of the room.
Ron and Hermione returned not long after Harry curled up with Crookshanks in his four-poster, meaning that he would have to wait until much later to deal with the emotions and thoughts rattling through of his mind. Their faces were pink from the cold wind but they were beaming and their eyes shined as they told him all about their day at Hogsmeade, about how beautiful and amazing it had been.
Harry welcomed the distraction.
He could remember how breathtaking Hogsmeade looked around Christmas and Halloween. The villagers usually went all-out for Halloween, decorating the building and streets with the colours of Samhain; black and white and orange and purple. Large pumpkins, carved and charmed to form red-eyed grims or howling werewolves, or your regular Halloween-associated animals such as bats and ravens and cats. Harry could even remember that they'd put on a show at their theatre of the story of the Lady Gwyn, a headless woman dressed in white who chased night wanderers who was often accompanied by a black pig, of all things.
They also held rituals for the dead as Samhain was the only night of the year went the veil between this world and the spirit realm was thin. He'd always viewed people leaving candles and things around during Halloween, but he'd never known what it was before he picked up an introductory book on wizarding traditions in Grimmauld Place. After learning about all of the wizarding holidays and especially Samhain, Harry intended to leave an offering for his parents at the edge of the Forbidden Forest tonight. He even thought of leaving offerings for those who had died in his previous timeline even if those same people were alive now. It was the respect and thought that he cared about.
"Oh, here," Ron said as Hermione stopped her excited description of Hogsmeade for a breather. "We got as much as we could carry."
Numerous sweets in colourful wrappers showed over him, and Harry smiled a pleased smile. "Thanks," he said, picking through the candy for a sugar quill to chew on. "Other than what Hogsmeade looks like, what's it like otherwise? Where did you go?"
Harry listened as they animatedly described where they went. Ron had rather enjoyed Dervish & Banges and all of the cool clockwork gadgets there, while Hermione rather enjoyed Tomes & Scrolls, a bookshop, and the one show that they'd watched about the history of Samhain. They'd also enjoyed the small festival where they created a large bonfire on the hill that overlooked the Shrieking Shack, which was something that Harry did miss about skipping out on Hogsmeade.
"The post office, Harry! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all colour-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!" Hermione said in excitement.
"Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples, there's a bit, loo—"
"We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks—" Hermione had no doubt liked the fact that they got to see more magical beings that lived in the wizarding world, while Ron liked the butterbeer if his next statement was anything.
"Wish we could have brought you some butterbeer, really warms you up—"
"So, what did you do while we were gone?" said Hermione when they finished, worried that they'd possibly upset him. "Did you hang out with anybody?"
Harry's heart gave a squeeze at the thought of the conversation he'd had with Draco and the look on Draco's face when he'd all but ran out on him. "I got some work done," he said instead of mentioning his meeting with Draco, "and I met up with Professor Lupin in his office. We talked some about our classes…"
Hermione was interested in some of what he'd discussed with Remus, especially the bit about the grindylow, and Ron was content to chew on a liquorice wand or two as Hermione explained all she knew about the little water demons.
"Honestly, Ron," Hermione sighed when Ron was halfway through a box of liquorice wands. "You ate plenty at Hogsmeade and dinner starts," she checked the clock hanging above the fireplace and blinked in surprise, "now, I guess."
Harry checked the clock. It was a few minutes past seven, the usual start of dinner.
"Well, what're we waiting for?" Ron said, leaping from his chair. "Let's put our sweets away and get downstairs!"
Reluctantly, Harry joined Ron upstairs to put away their sweets. He didn't quite feel like going to dinner tonight. He was still torn up about the conversation he'd had with Draco—and the shock that he actually prioritized his health above all house—and the fact that his parents had been murdered this night twelve years ago. It hit different, now that he'd been forced over and over to relive their deaths, their final moments. His mother's pleading was screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—
Harry blinked away the distant screaming and stuck his fisted hands in his pockets as he followed Ron and Hermione to the Great Hall. He allowed their chatter about the upcoming feast to wash over him, wishing that he was alone. Don't get him wrong, he loved his friends, but for the first ten years of his life with the Dursleys, he'd practically lived in solitude. He'd learned as soon as he could walk that it was best to be kept out of sight, and as soon as primary started, Dudley had made it clear that no one was to be friends with the freak with shaggy black hair and too-big clothes. Anyone he had befriended, anyone he had even spoken to, even the teachers, had swiftly learned that he was nothing special and that all they got from talking to him was trouble. And despite being friends with Ron and Hermione, and many others, for years now, sometimes, he just wanted the solitude and the safe space of his cupboard.
They arrived at the Great Hall not much later, joining the thong of students joining for the feast, and Harry curiously gazed around at the Halloween decorations. They were spectacular, as always, and now that Harry had read about Samhain, he could recognize its influence all around the hall. Alongside the massive carved pumpkins casting shadows around the hall were carved turnips strung up—the original versions of Jack-o-lanterns—along with apple and skull garland. There were little altars of sorts with stones such as smoky quartz and amber and obsidian and pyrite and onyx and carnelian, as well as sunflowers and wild ginseng and wormwood and marigolds. Gourds, and dried flowers and leaves, and pine cones and acorns also joined these decorations.
The House tables were covered in traditional Samhain foods such as roasted game birds and vegetables, and pies made of pumpkins and apples and pears, and even alcohol such as cider and dark wine. Samhain was the only night, Harry recalled, that served wine at dinner.
He had usually avoided the alcohol when he was younger, but now, the wine and cider were looking attractive.
Harry shook away the thoughts, he shouldn't get drunk tonight when he was planning on playing with fire, and he took a seat next to Ron and Hermione and the other third years.
The feast started off with Dumbledore's usual speech about this night being one of the most powerful and magical of the year, and how the veil between the living and dead realm were at their weakest, and how they should send their respects, before telling them to dig in.
Everyone around him was having a grand old time and Harry glanced around, wondering how many students were planning on setting up altars tonight. He knew that numerous students, especially from his year and the years around him, were without family members. He spotted Susan Bones at the Hufflepuff chatting with her friend Hannah Abbott, and recalled her Aunt Amelia's death in his timeline. Her closest living relative because the Death Eaters had killed her mother and father. He saw many others, including the Weasleys who had lost their uncle, and stared down at his food, something bitter twisting in his gut.
He hadn't come back intentionally, but now that he was here and saw all of these faces of those who had died or had lost relatives in his timeline, it steeled his resolve to stop Voldemort once more. It would be difficult, he knew. He had to get all of the Horcruxes—the diary might've been destroyed, but there was still Ravenclaw's diadem, Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, the Gaunt ring, and Nagini. Two were easy to reach—the diadem was in the Room of Requirement, only a few feet above his head, and it wouldn't be long until Sirius was condemned to Grimmauld Place once more…
Harry swallowed at the thought of Sirius, of his shadowed expression and the dark, dead expression in his eyes.
There was a nudge at his side and Harry looked over at Ron. "Are you all right, mate?" Ron asked him around a chicken leg.
Harry opened his mouth to say that he was fine but he found that he didn't want to lie. "No," he said. "I'm not all right." He clenched his hand around his knife and fork, suddenly furious. "My parents were murdered exactly twelve years ago and I can hear their last words every time those damned dementors come near me. Of course, I'm not all right."
Ron and Hermione looked stunned and Harry found that he didn't want to deal with the pity and sympathy creeping into his eyes.
"I'm going to the common room," he muttered, and when Ron and Hermione made to join him, he stressed, "Alone."
He placed his cutlery down and left, hiding in the shadows of the Great Hall as celebration reigned.