Bravery And Ambition: Chapter 3

A/N: This is a Harry Potter AU, focused on an answer to the question "what if more death eaters turned on Voldemort, but not really?"

If there was one thing that Harry and Merula both agreed upon when it came to Hogwarts… it was that classes were awesome.

Their first lesson of transfiguration had their teacher turn her desk into a pig! Charms was taught by a really tiny dude who made things float! They got to stay up late and stargaze for Astronomy! During Herbology they dodged swipes from the venomous tentacula while looking for awesome and weird plants.

Shame about History though. Harry was certain that teaching history with a Ghost was not a good idea. And DADA… was a joke. Even if it seemed like Quirrell could cow even Merula in his class, he was just… very easily and obviously scared of everything.

And then there was Potions…

"…You could have bought a solid gold cauldron!?" Ron and Merula blurted to Harry, as they and the Slytherins waited in the hallway outside of Potions. While passing periods and meals were easy enough to use to meet with Merula, Potions was the only class the Gryffindors would normally share with the Slytherins. Which made it the first time Harry and Merula and Ron could all do a class assignment together, and the thought of that had brought up memories of Harry's visit to Diagon Alley.

Which meant a conversation about how Hagrid didn't let him by a solid gold cauldron.

Ron was rubbing his eyes, like he was trying to see Harry while wearing Harry's prescriptions. Merula was flat out gaping at Harry as she mentally weighed a solid gold cauldron. "…H-how…" she stammered in an impression of Professor Quirrell. "How are you that rich!?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Hagrid didn't know either. Don't all Wizards have vaults full of Gold?"

Ron and Merula snorted, before eyeing each other suspiciously. "Not really for my family. Dad's the only one who works, and he has me, Mum, my sister, and my brothers to support. Charlie and Bill moved out and have their jobs, but my parents won't take their money."

"And all of our Galleons were seized after his dad and brother decided to arrest my mom and dad," Merula said, glaring daggers at Ron. He glared back, but she continued. "So how in the world are you this rich!? It can't all be gifts for killing Voldemort."

The students listening in flinched. It was then that a mellifluous voice interjected. "Perhaps a degree of subtly in your language will go well appreciated, Ms Snyde…"

Merula looked over her shoulder and broke out into a silly grin at the man who had crept up on her, Ron, and Harry. "Oh Hello there Professor Snape! Are we about to start our potions class?"

Professor Snape gave Harry the distinct air of a man suppressing a lot of contempt, like Vernon on a good day. He sneered down at Merula, the effect exaggerated by his large hooked nose, before spinning on his heel and pointing into his classroom. "Take your seats," he told them all in a silky tone, allowing his students to file in before taking his place before the blackboard.

"Potions… is a subtle art," Snape drawled in low tones of admiration. "This is not a classroom of wild wand waving or of chatter and noise, but a place where the old alchemical arts are to be imparted unto you. You shall develop the skills of a potions master under my tutelage… presuming you are not the usual class of dunderheads who I have to babysit."

Harry had plucked out his quill and started to take that down. "Usual… class… of Dunder-"

"Potter!" Snape suddenly barked. Harry's head ticked up from his notes to find the potions master glaring down at him. "It is good to see that I have your attention now. Tell me, what would you get if you added an infusion of asphodel to a draft of wormwood?"

A heartbeat later, the hand of Hermione Granger (a bossy sort of Gryffindor girl Harry liked, since she reminded him of Merula) had shot up. Harry, though, was unable to think of the answer. "I… don't know, sir."

Snape tsk'd. "Well well. It seems that celebrity is not all it's cracked up to be," he mused idly. Behind Harry, Merula snickered at the antics of her head of house. "Then tell me Potter, where would I be likely to find a bezoar?"

"Uh…" Hermione's hand was starting to get very distracting for Harry. "I… don't know, sir?" he said, feeling lost.

Snape sneered down at Harry. "Couldn't have been bothered to open your text book, could you?" he asked. "Then tell me Potter, what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

The question stewed around in Harry's mind, before… "Wait? Is that a trick question sir?" Harry asked. Behind him, Merula burst into snickers. Snape's glare intensified.

"Uh… they're the same plant," Harry answered more pointedly. "I mean… maybe one's the flower and the other is the ste-"

"If you are so interested in the anatomical differences of plant life, then perhaps you would do well to address the question to Professor Sprout," Snape said in cool dismissal. "To answer the first question, the combination of wormwood and asphodel will produce a sleeping potion of such potency it is known as the draught of living death. A bezoar may be found in the stomach of live goats, and is a cure for most common poisons. And Wolfsbane and Monkshood also go by the name Aconite… and why aren't the rest of you writing this down!?" he barked at the class.

Harry was left with the distinct impression he had ruined Snape's day. Merula, of course, was still snickering. She had been the one to encourage Harry to read over his Potions textbook: she had warned him that Snape was a former Death Eater and might have had some prejudice against Harry.

The class soon broke up into pairs to brew a potion to cure boils. The problem with this was that the Gryffindors had an even number of students, while the Slytherins were in an odd number, leaving one group heavy. Merula had made it all three steps to Harry's side before promptly being turned around by Snape and sent to work with Pansy Parkinson. Ron had ended up with Neville Longbottom before he noticed Harry's loneliness, but a sharp look from Snape had kept him there.

"Just follow the instructions, focus on what you're doing, and don't try anything fancy," Merula cautioned Harry as they raided the pantry for ingredients. "Snape probably wants to see something blow up in your face and take you out."

"You don't need to be so conspiratorial," Harry replied, carefully counting out porcupine quills as he spoke. "He may be an ex-Death Eater, but he wouldn't try to kill me here. Dumbledore would fire him."

"Sounds like the sort of long game some Death Eaters would play," Merula mused darkly, with Harry splitting off from her and returning to his cauldron. He gave his little dinky pewter cauldron a look of despair, reminded himself that Hagrid told him pewter was required and got to work. It shouldn't have been hard after all.

Twenty minutes in, Harry was starting to worry that he may have ended up in over his head. The cauldron was bubbling a murky orange now, and emitting strange lavender steam, which didn't seem at all right. Snape, in the meanwhile, had been walking between the cauldrons, talking down to the students, pointing out flaws in their potions, and sneering at everyone in red. Really, the only person who seemed to be exempt from the treatment was Malfoy, whom Snape seemed rather fond of and who also seemed to have a knack for being good at potions while not being named Hermione Granger.

…In fact…

Harry waited for Snape to walk over to Malfoy's cauldron and start to explain to onlookers how it had turned just the correct shade of gold. With Snape's back turned, he rushed to Hermione Granger and Parvati Patil, before quickly clasping his hands together. "Help me!" he hissed.

The girls looked at him, at each other, and then at Snape, who was soliloquizing over the importance of proper stirring technique. Then they looked back to him, and Hermione nodded sharply. With Snape's back turned, she hopped to Harry's cauldron.

"…Add two more porcupine quills than suggested… and an infusion of eel liver, which should neutralize some of the acidity… that should get it back to the correct color. Oh, and remember: stir clockwise five times, counterclockwise twice," she insisted. Hermione jumped back to her cauldron just as Snape turned back to the Gryffindors.

It was then that Merula slipped over to Harry, ostensibly to grab more ingredients, but instead to nudge his ribs and point at Ron and Neville. Harry glanced towards them and saw Neville tipping their porcupine quills into his cauldron. He frowned: he didn't know why that would be a problem…

"Uh, Merula?" he asked as she passed by again.

"Jump on your desk… in ten seconds," Merula hissed from the corner of her mouth. She was fighting back giggles. Harry looked at Neville and Ron again: their cauldron looked fine…

Eh, best not to chance it, Harry decided. He stuck an arm up. "Professor, somethings going wrong with Neville and Ron's potion," Harry said.

Snape rounded on Harry, glaring down on him. "I fail to see why their potion is your problem Potter," he said to Harry. "Perhaps you want to take credit for their work-"

Snape was interrupted when, with a scream of metal, Neville's cauldron melted. Harry and the rest of the class scrambled onto their desks as Snape advanced upon Neville, who had lacked Ron's wherewithal to also leap for cover when Harry mentioned their potion. "Idiot boy!" Snape shouted, vanishing the potion with a wave of his wand. "I presume you added the porcupine quills before you took the potion off the heat?"

Neville's face had broken out into hideous boils, but he didn't fall to the ground and writhe in the pain he clearly felt. "The… the book didn't say-"

"The reaction of the incomplete potion is catalyzed by heat," Snape retorted. "Any student who has read into their textbooks would know that. Go to the Hospital Wing… now," he ordered. "Weasley, take him."

As Neville was being pulled from the room, Snape rounded on Harry. "So…" he said in his most silky voice. "Did you hope to snatch some glory for saving Longbottom and your friend?"

"Huh?" Harry replied.

"Or did you merely want to see me berate Longbottom for such an amateurish mistake? Maybe listen to one of your teachers put a fellow student in his place?" Snape's eyes were boring into Harry's, and Harry was given the uncomfortable impression he could read minds.

"I don't-"

"Regardless, you had the opportunity to warn Longbottom, and you chose not to. So I believe a point from Gryffindor is in order," Snape explained, leaving Harry to stare at shock in him. "Now, carry on students, or you will all receive no marks for incomplete potions."

"He hates me," Harry bemoaned as he and Merula left the classroom. Snape had spent the rest of the class either praising Malfoy or sniping at Harry, to the point that Merula's theory of personal hatred was looking like a certainty. "What did I ever do to him?"

"Killed his meal ticket?" Merula suggested. She was in her own foul mood, as Parkinson had tried to splash her with their potion, and when she had dunked Parkinson's head into the cauldron, Snape had given her detention. It hadn't even given Parkinson boils: Merula was too good with her potion for that to have happened.

"That was ten years ago!" Harry blurted out, throwing his hands up in the air. "Who holds onto a grudge for that long?"

"Snape," Merula declared. "We'll get him back… maybe we can drop our cauldrons on his head?"

"Or we could poison him. That could work," Harry mused.

"Or maybe you two could do well in his class?" interjected a third voice. Hermione Granger had come up behind them both and was glaring at them. "If you both just read your books and listened to him, I'm sure Professor Snape would-"

"Blah blah blah," Merula retorted. "Geez, you really are a know it all. And a teacher's pet."

"Merula, she helped me with my potion," Harry said firmly, as Hermione pushed past them both. "Hermione, it's alright, she's just mean sometimes."

"I don't have to listen to her," Hermione declared, before whipping around a corner and vanishing from sight.

"So… Snape's a git," Ron surmised as he linked back up with Harry, the two of them heading off towards Charms on the third floor. Merula had given them a goodbye, trudging out to Herbology with the Ravenclaws and other Slytherins, and Harry had gotten Ron up to speed on Potions. He'd also told Ron that he was marked for a zero for having taken Neville to the Hospital Wing.

"A big, big git," Harry told him on a landing on the third floor. "I think he hates me."

"Nah, he knows we're friends and he hates me," Ron explained. "Don't know why though. Charlie said that his friend Tonks got Professor Sprout drunk once and asked why he was a git. Sprout said it had something to do with red hair."

"…And you're sure about that?" Harry asked Ron, as they tried to open the door in front of them. The door was jammed.

"Yep! Really, it worked out for the best though. Fred and George ended up learning how to brew this giant sudsy glue potion that flooded the old Potions classroom. I think that classroom is still out of bounds or something."

"Sounds crazy… your brothers are always… getting up to pranks… or being Percy…" Harry stopped tugging and turned to Ron. "What does Percy do, anyway?"

"Complain about Oliver Wood?" Ron shrugged. He grabbed the door and rattled it, before planting a foot on the frame and pulling hard. "Seriously… this is stuck… what, no charms today?"

Harry grabbed the handle as well. "On three… one… two…"

"What are you two doing?" said a very familiar, very bossy voice. Harry and Ron looked over their shoulders to Hermione, who was giving them a very unimpressed glare. Harry, thinking quickly, clapped a hand over Ron's mouth.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he asked her politely, while Ron tried to get his mouth unstuck. "Going to Charms too? So are we!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We have the same schedule, since we're in the same year and in the same House. I'm really hoping that Professor Flitwick starts teaching us Levitation Charms soon. They sound like so much fun."

"They really do," Harry said, keeping Ron's mouth shut. "You'll probably get it on the first day of course, the way you did with Potions. I don't think I thanked you for Potions today."

Hermione preened. "Well, I only just read the textbook and next year's cliff notes and spoke with a few Ravenclaws and visited the library when I heard from the Hufflepuffs we were going to be doing boil potions. It's nothing too difficult."

Harry was sorely tempted to uncover Ron's mouth and watch the fireworks. Instead, he said: "You really are such a hard worker. I don't want to be late to class Hermione, could you help us with this?" He pointed at the doorknob.

"Of course!" Hermione said brightly. Rather than try to yank the door off its hinges, Hermione plucked out her wand, waved it to the keyhole, and intoned: "Alohamora."

The lock opened with a click, and Hermione swung the door open in triumph. She, Harry, and Ron looked in on the gigantic, snarling, slobbering, twitching, three-headed dog that was on the other side, and then at each other, before Harry slammed the door shut.

"WHAT THE HECK!" he roared, before Hermione ran screaming from the corridor and Ron grabbed Harry to chase after her. "WHY WAS THERE A GIANT MONSTER DOG THERE!?"

"DON'T TALK, JUST RUN!" Ron bellowed, tearing down the hallway. Somehow, they rounded a corner, shot by a suit of armor, pushed through a tapestry, and ran right into Charms.

Professor Flitwick perked up. "Oh! Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter! Right on time. I was just taking attendance. Please, choose any seat you wish."

The banality of charms helped the three of them relax, with Ron and Hermione red faced and Harry bewildered. "What… what was that?" he finally asked Ron.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. Probably the reason that corridor is out of bounds though."

"Wait, it's out of bounds?"

"The third floor east corridor is out of bounds for the entire year," Hermione said, clearly reciting from somewhere. "Professor Dumbledore told us that at the start of the year."

"He did?"

"You were too busy missing Merula to listen," Ron guessed, and Harry… Harry glared at his friend, because he didn't want to admit Ron was right.

So instead, he said: "But why is it there?"

Ron shrugged, while Hermione looked pensive. Any thought towards the giant monster dog was cut off though, when Flitwick began talking about charms. Still, the image of the massive beast nagged at Harry, and he quietly resolved to talk to Merula about it… or, maybe, to Hagrid. That dog seemed about Hagrid sized.

In the end, that was the question Harry decided to ask Hagrid. Ron had been interested to properly meet Hagrid from the very start, and Merula had demanded she be brought along to the hut of the giant. At five to three that afternoon, Harry led the pair of them onto the school grounds and towards the small hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"A Cerberus? Really? In the halls of Hogwarts?" Merula was, if nothing else, quite skeptical of Harry and Ron's story. "Are you sure it wasn't someone playing a prank on you?"

"A giant three headed dog isn't anyone's idea of a prank. Even Fred and George… okay, maybe not my brothers, but everyone else would think it was ridiculous," Ron explained. "I saw it, and it's very real… and it's pronounced Sir-Ber-Us."

"It's Ker-Ber-Us," Merula shot back. "And you gotta think: what's more sensible? A real live three headed monster dog in the school? Or someone's idea of a joke?"

"Sir-Ber-Us," Ron repeated. "And Dumbledore warned us about the third floor corridor. Maybe he's keeping that dog up there for a friend and didn't want anyone getting eaten?"

"I'd like you to get eaten, so he'd probably not warn you," Merula growled.

"Maybe we could go up there and give you a big introduction," Ron said hotly.

Harry quickly and forcefully knocked on Hagrid's door, hoping to forestall another loud argument. Hagrid threw the door open and smiled down at the trio. "Well, hello there Harry, Ron. That must be Merula, nice to meet ya."

"Hey Hagrid," Harry said cheerfully. "Is it pronounced Sir-Ber-Us or Ker-Ber-Us?"

Hagrid blinked. "Why ya talking about Fluffy?"

"THAT'S NOT EVEN CLOSE!" Ron and Merula shouted.

It fell to Hagrid to explain that the Cerberus on the third floor belonged to him, and that it was there for Dumbledore's orders, and he wouldn't explain one wit further. "Best you lot don't know much about it," Hagrid explained as he poured the trio tea. "It's mighty important to Dumbledore that we keep that hall locked down tight."

"But, like, what's even in that corridor?" Merula asked as she avoided drinking Hagrid's tea. "Why do you need a whole giant dog to keep it safe?"

"That's for the headmaster to know, and ya lot are supposed to be learning other things, like how to cast charms and make pigs fly," Hagrid answered. He drank his own tea, winced, and left it to steep a little longer. "That corridor got nothing for ya."

"…Does it have anything to do with the break in at Gringotts?" Ron asked astutely. He tilted his cup to his lips, pretending to drink the tea that he had actually tossed into a potted shrub. "My brother Bill sent my dad a few letters about it, and they thought a dark Wizard may have broken in."

"…No," Hagrid said after a moment.

Harry gave Ron an alarmed look at his words. "Break in? There was a break in at Gringotts?"

"You don't read the Prophet, do you?" Merula mused.

"Or listen at breakfast," Ron added.

"Or to Dumbledore."

"Or McGonagall."

"Or Binns."

"Who listens to Binns?"

"Honestly, next you're going to tell us you don't know about the ghosts of the school."

"G-G-Ghosts!?" Harry blurted out. When Hagrid, Ron and Merula all gave Harry completely bewildered looks, he burst out laughing. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I know about the Ghosts, I ran into one after the Sorting Ceremony. Nearly Headless Nick."

"…Ssssssure…" Ron said, not sure if Harry had been pulling his leg, or if Harry really was as observant as a brick wall. That latter observation gained some credence when Harry sipped his tea and nearly retched for how over brewed it was. "Well, there was a break in at Gringotts, last day of July. They got in but didn't steal anything."

"Last day… Hagrid, wasn't that the day we went to Gringotts?" Harry said, shooting Hagrid a look. "When we opened my vault… and what was it… vault 713?"

"Uh… no," Hagrid said again, looking at Ron. "What makes you think this has anything to do with Gringotts?"

"My brother Bill was called up to look into it. Him and an Auror Charlie knows. He told me the vault was empty when it was broken into, and even figured that whoever moved the contents would take it to Dumbledore. It was dark magic that helped the break in, and everyone knows-"

"Blah blah blah, darkness fears him, oh fuck Dumbledore," Merula interrupted, lazily swirling her teacup. "I still don't think that a Cerberus is up in the castle."

"Cerberus," Ron corrected, but he was looking at Hagrid. Hagrid had gone quite cross with Merula, based on his expression. He poured himself another cup of tea.

"Now look here Merula. I don't want you insulting Dumbledore around me. He's a good man-"

"He's an aged crock of shit who can't tell his wand from his dick," Merula interrupted, with a malignant grin on her face.

"…AaaaaaaaaAHHHHH!" Merula flew twenty feet through the air and landed face first in the mud. Harry and Ron were given the more polite treatment of having the door slammed in their face, with Hagrid grumpily telling Harry not to ever bring Merula with him again. Both boys turned to glare at Merula.

"…What are you looking at me for!?" she shouted back from her place in the dirt. "He's the one who kicked us out."

"He warned you not to insult Dumbledore," Harry pointed out. "And didn't I tell you he tried to turn Dudley into a pig when Uncle Vernon tried it."

"Hagrid did what to who?" Ron said, having not heard that story.

"And now he's kicked us all out," Harry added angrily. He looked over at the window, through which Hagrid was looking at them all, just to remind them that he was cross with them. "See!"

Merula knocked the worst of the mud off her clothes and gave Hagrid the finger, before starting to tramp up to the castle. "Stupid, dumb, giant… NUGH!" Merula shouted in fury, kicking at a loose tuft of sod.

Harry and Ron soon fell in behind her, shooting her more glares, with Merula stomping up the path back to the castle. "…Uh, that actually reminds me," Harry said. "Merula, haven't you been wearing the same robes all week?"

Merula froze on the path, her shoulders hitching up. "W-what? N-no! No, I haven't been," she said hastily. "These are new robes."

Harry poked a stain on Merula's elbow. "That's the soup stain you got on Tuesday when you put your arm in a saucer. You're not washing your clothes again."

Merula shook her arm away from Harry's grasp. "What… whatever, okay. Whatever." She stomped along the path, with Ron giving her a very perplexed look. "I… I haven't been able to get my robes cleaned, alright?"

"Something happened to them all?" Harry mused. Back at home, Merula had always struggled with her laundry: both because she was doing it herself, and because she only had a few different sets of clothing.

"…Ink accident," she muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, whatever happened, you probably deserved it," Ron mused aloud. He went on then, not noticing Harry's warning look or Merula's furious stink eye. "You keep telling people off when they don't deserve it and act like you know better. Far as I'm concerned you probably-"

Merula whipped around and buried her fist into Ron's stomach, driving the breath from him. He gasped and staggered backwards, landing on his hind and rolling over. "Agh!"

"Don't you dare-" Merula started, before Harry quickly interposed himself between the two of them. "Get out of my way Harry…"

"I think you need to get inside Merula, and Ron, you need to. Stop. Talking," Harry warned. Hands out between them both, just to keep them from getting at one another.

Ron got to his feet, glaring hard at Merula, before finally shoving his way past Harry and starting into the school. "You'd better get a leash or something for her. Her bark's as bad as her bite," Ron called back.

Harry had to grab Merula and take her wand before she hexed him. "Don't! You'll get in trouble if you do that."

"He fucking deserves it…" Merula hissed. She glowered after Ron but didn't take her wand back from Harry. "He deserves it…"

"…You don't, and he doesn't, and you know that," Harry told her gently, rubbing her sleeve. There was a stubborn little mud stain there that he figured would need time to get out. "Tell you what, send me your robes and your clothes and I'll do your laundry for you. Get it all clean."

Merula sighed, but after a moment to compose herself, glanced at Harry. "Think you can handle doing my underwear?"

"I've done Aunt Petunia's, Uncle Vernon's, and Dudley's," Harry said, adopting a haunted look. "I can handle ink-stained girl clothes."

Merula snickered softly and snatched her wand back from Harry. "You're the best House Elf a girl could have."

"House Elf?"

"Long story. What's the password into Gryffindor tower?"

Harry stopped and blinked at Merula. "Wait… that's a secret. You'll have to leave your laundry outside- "

"I'm not leaving my laundry outside the Gryffindor Common room for someone to find and… I don't know, chuck into the lake? Just give me the password and I won't tell a soul. Promise," Merula said, fluttering her eyes and giving Harry a big grin.

Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Fortuna Major. Just don't tell anyone in Slytherin. Who knows what they'll do with that knowledge?"

"Trust me, I'm the most discrete witch in Hogwarts."

"Whatever you say Merula."

"She's a massive git, worse than Snape. How can you stand her!?" Ron shouted as Harry came through the portrait hole into Gryffindor tower. "She'd drive me barking."

"She's not that bad, she's just aggressive," Harry told Ron. "Now, I need some baking soda, soap, and the largest cauldron you have to get the ink stains out of her clothes."

"…She has driven you barking," Ron said. "Are you doing her laundry?"

"Yep."

Ron stared at Harry like he had grown a second head. "…Why!?"

"Because it needs to be done," Harry answered. "She's like you: she doesn't have a lot of money to her name and most of her clothes are really old and patched up, and she doesn't have a lot."

The look Ron gave him told Harry that the second head had been upgraded to have Voldemort's appearance. "…She… she said that stuff about Dumbledore!"

"Well… Fuck Dumbledore," Harry said with a shrug. "I don't think he cares what a bunch of elven year old's have to say about him. So fuck him."

"Ah!" There was a small and sudden gasp behind Harry, and he looked over his shoulder to see Hermione. She had her astronomy book out and was accomplishing the impressive feat of reading it upside down. She had also overheard Harry's comment. "L-language!"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione, do you know where I can get laundry materials? I do need to clean her clothing."

Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I might be able to talk Mr. Filch into loaning us some of his cleaning supplies. Maybe ask Professor Snape for something… or ask Professor McGonagall to transfigure us the chemicals… or-"

"Aren't you a witch?" Ron asked Hermione dismissively. "There's bound to be a charm for cleaning clothes."

"Oh!" Hermione dropped her astronomy textbook into her book bag and pulled out her charms book, flipping through it intently. "Aha! Scougify!"

"Bless you," came a straining voice from the portrait hole. Merula was crawling through, dragging her whole trunk with her.

"AH! Invader!" Ron shouted. He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted up the boy's stairwell. "Slytherin in the common room!"

"Oh, shut up you dumbass! I was invited here," Merula said, dragging her trunk across the floor to Harry's feet. "There you go, all my dirty laundry."

"Even your… uh, things?" Hermione asked, giving Merula and Harry both a sideways look. Merula snickered.

"Harry can give you horror stories," she promised, before unlocking the trunk and opening it. Her clothing inside was much the same it had been the night she had arrived: ink stained and ruined. "There you are Harry. Think you could work your magic?"

Harry smiled and pulled Merula aside, while Hermione looked over the other girl's tarnished clothing. "Hmm…"

"What's she doing?" Merula sotto voce'd.

"She knows some magic to clean it up."

"…Okay, but why is she helping me?"

"You made Ron angry," Hermione said, earning all three of them a glare from Ron. She pointed her wand into the mess. "Scourgify."

In a flash, the ink surged up from the clothing and swirled around, flowing into Hermione's wand like a reverse maelstrom. Merula gasped loudly and grabbed one of her robes. "Oh, it's perfect! Thanks Bushy Hair."

"…Bushy Hair?" Hermione said.

"Right, whatever, Hermione," Merula said, clutching a blouse to her chest in glee. "Oh! Do me next, me next."

She was still covered in mud. Hermione waved her wand, but before the word could come out, Fred and George barreled into the room. "SLYTHERIN INTRUDER!" the roared in gleeful antagonism.

"Scourg-AH!" Hermione shrieked, as George caught her shoulder and spun her around. Her wand flashed dangerously before, with the noise of a malfunctioning garbage disposal, a torrent of black gel started to spray from the tip. Harry had just enough wherewithal to kick Merula's trunk shut, before he, Merula, the Weasley's and most of the common room were thoroughly inked. It was then that another person arrived.

"Okay, enough of the shout- GOOD LORD!" Percy bellowed as he walked in on the chaos. Hermione stood pristine in the middle of the inky devastation, surrounded by blackened friends and furniture, and the prefect huffed. "Miss Granger, you should know better than to cast spells you don't know," he said sternly.

Hermione's eyes were wider than saucepans. "But… I…"

"No buts. That's a point from Gryffindor, and I expect you to clean this up," Percy said. Then he noticed his twin brothers in the mess. "And five points each from you two, for teaching her such a troublesome spell."

Fred and George, who this time were innocent in intent, shared a look and burst out laughing, with Ron and Merula following suit. Hermione looked to be on the verge of tears though, so Harry quickly stepped up to her and gave her shoulder a pat. He left a black hand print on her robe. "Hey, it's alright. Messes happen. Wanna teach me that spell you used to clean Merula's clothes?"

Hermione sniffed loudly, but nodded.

And that was how Harry spent his afternoon: Hagrid's, Laundry, and learning a spell to clean the common room with Hermione, while Ron and Merula kept falling over themselves with laughter.

Potions, as it quickly turned out, was Harry's least favorite subject. The reasons were twofold: first, there was Snape, who seemed to hate Harry. Possibly for killing his meal ticket, if you listened to Merula. Then there was Draco Malfoy, who in addition to hating Ron for being a Weasley, hated Harry for scaring and tricking him, and Merula for apparently slamming his foot in a door. Harry was also just bad at potions, missing steps in the process of brewing or failing to add some critical ingredient at some critical moment.

Potions was Harry's only class with Merula though, so he was ready to settle down and endure the humiliation and the struggle… until one day, a notice went up in the Gryffindor Common Room that made Harry nearly jump out of his socks in joy. Flying Lessons would be starting for first years, and the Gryffindors would be taking their lessons with the Slytherins. "Merula is awesome on a broom!" Harry gushed to Ron as they settled down into their favorite chairs by the fireplace.

"Eh, everyone says that" Ron pointed out. "I mean, I was taught my older brother Charlie. He's how I measure awesome."

"Yeah, but Merula…" Harry furtively checked the common room to make sure that no one was listening in. "She took me up over London on her a Comet 260. Early birthday present, and it got us in trouble."

Harry had told Ron that story more than a few times, and with each retelling Harry found himself stretching the truth of it just a little further. A midnight flight over Surrey that ended with them nearly hitting an Auror had become a mad dash across the midday London skyline, pursued by the entire department of magical law enforcement. Ron, perhaps jealous, had hit back with his own tale of having collided with a Muggle airplane and being forced to jinx the pilots to guide it back down to land at Heathrow. It was all very impressive, if the boys said so themselves.

Of course, it seemed that everyone had their own stories. Seamus had apparently spent his youth zooming around the Irish countryside, and when Merula gave her report to Harry about how Slytherin felt, she took time to talk about Malfoy's claim. "The peacock flies and keeps narrowly dodging helicopters," she said. "The fuck's a helicopter?"

"It's a big Muggle airplane that spins its wings to fly," Harry has answered, which just confused Ron and Merula even more. "Ask Dean, he could explain it."

Dean Thomas, who had two Muggle parents, had never flown a broom, but was eager to try it. In fact, the only Gryffindor who wasn't eager to try flying was Hermione Granger, who apparently couldn't handle the thought of learning something that couldn't be taught with a book. "Oooh, but I know how I should be balancing and avoiding other people," she brought up, whenever someone asked her if she was alright with broomsticks. Harry found it a bit funny that a Witch would be afraid to ride a broom… but then again, Hermione was hardly a Wicked Witch of the West.

Flying lessons were scheduled for Thursday, and Harry was veritably shaking with excitement as he and the Gryffindors marched onto the grounds to start their lesson. The Slytherins were already assembled, with a long and neat row of twenty broomsticks laid down for them all. Their teacher, a Madam Hooch, was waiting for them. "Alright, gather round you lot! Come on, no time to waste for this. Choose a broom."

Harry quickly fell in with a broom, standing between Ron and Merula (who were still giving each other weary looks) and eyed his broom. It was old, worn, and the twigs all stuck out at odd angles. "It's not your comet," Harry muttered to Merula.

"It'll do. It's not the broom, but how you use it," Merula muttered back, with a silly smirk on her lips.

"Stick out your right hand," Hooch was saying. "And say UP."

"Up!" Harry, Ron, Merula and Hermione all commanded. Hermione's broom rolled around on the ground. Merula's didn't even twitch. Ron's rose up and whacked him on the forehead. It was Harry's that jumped from the ground into his palm, the boy closing his hand to keep it.

Madam Hooch rolled her eyes at the other students, before starting to move among them, correcting their grips and encouraging them, or in Neville's case telling him to use his right hand and not his left. Harry took his time to mount his broom, the way Merula had shown him, and idly hopped upwards. The broom carried him a few feet off the ground and hovered steady for him. "Hehe… we'll, I think this is going nicely."

"Showoff," Merula grumbled. "UP, you fucking bro-" She was cut off when her broom also whacked her in the face.

"Down Potter, no one likes a showoff," Madam Hooch said, though there was an odd twinkle in her eyes, as though she was remembering a flyboy who looked like Harry. Harry landed gently, ignoring the evil look that Malfoy was sending him. "Better. Now then, Miss Snyde, stretch out your hand, work out any kinks in it, and say it firmly. UP."

Merula glared at Hooch, then her broom, and then her hand. "Up." The broom leapt to her grasp, and she closed her grip tightly around it.

Next, Madam Hooch walked the students through proper mounting of their brooms. Ron had a textbook grip, Hooch remarked, and Merula and Harry were both passable. Malfoy, she pointed out to Harry's bemusement, had been doing it wrong his entire life. Finally, she marched back to the front of the class. "Alright, we'll try hovering now. Kick off firmly from the earth and hover at ten feet. Kick off on three. One-"

But Neville Longbottom, it seemed, was overeager. The boy pushed off at one, ascending high above the class. "Boy! Get down here!" Hooch shouted after him as he quickly passed fifty feet.

"Hey everyone, look at me! I'M KING OF THE-" Neville may have been wanting to say something witty. He never got the chance to: a pigeon flew by and crashed into his face. A moment later… THUD!

"Oooof…" Harry went, cringing as Neville crash landed on his arm, Mdaam hooch running to his side. Merula was at his side and snickering, despite her best efforts to contain it. "That looked like it hurt Merula, don't laugh."

"Hurt the bird, that's for sure," Merula choked out in a wheeze.

"Broken wrist," Hooch diagnosed. "You'll need to visit Pomfrey. Come along boy. If I see any of you on a broomstick, I will have you kicked from my class!"

"I can go myself," Neville protested, trying to shake Hooch away. She simply redoubled her grip on his shoulder. "Oh, come on! This is the second time this week! It's just a broken wrist, I'll be fine…"

As Hooch and Neville went inside, the dam finally burst. Every Slytherin, from Merula to Malfoy to even reserved Blaise Zabini, burst into raucous laughter. "Did you see his face when that bird… HAHAHAH!" Malfoy tried to say it and failed, shaking with laughter.

"King of the world… eager to give it… a big kiss," Merula choked out.

"Stop it, all of you!" Lavender Brown shouted. "He could have been really hurt. A fall from that height can kill people if they aren't lucky."

"Or what?" Pansy said shrilly. "Gonna call a teacher? Isn't that Granger's thing, the teacher's pet? Oh, hello Madam Hooch, the other students were laughing Madam Hooch, can I lick your shoes Madam Hooch?"

"He was like a Muggle on a broom stick. He didn't deserve to be up there," Malfoy declared with a knowing air.

"…You'd better stop talking Malfoy…" Harry said in a low voice. The other Gryffindors suddenly feel silent, as did more than a few Slytherins. Maybe it was the look in Harry's eyes that did it.

Malfoy still chuckled though. "Oh? Or what Potter? Are you going to go after a teach-"

"He said stop it, Malfoy," Merula said harshly, falling right in line with Harry. Her own mirthful look had slipped away, covered up by an eager and angry smirk. "You don't want him to make you stop."

"…Oh what's he gonna do? Talk to Dumbledore? Cast Abracadabra on me? I'm trembling in my shoes," Malfoy bit back through a sneer. "Come on Snyde, you and him are hopeless."

Harry suddenly stepped forward, lowering his broom and holding it near the bristles like a sword. Malfoy smirked at him, taking a step backwards and eyeing Goyle. "Come on Potter. If you wanna go…"

"Maybe I wanna go…" Harry said, though he was fast realizing he didn't have much of an idea for what to do. Maybe whack Malfoy on the head with his broom? Would that make Malfoy fly, or just hurt really bad?

"Oh, stop it, all of you, or I will get a teacher," Hermione suddenly threatened. The other students froze, before a torrent of snickers broke out among the Slytherins. Still, it was an invitation for Harry to avoid making a fool out of himself, so he turned back to the Gryffindors. He really needed to thank Hermione for that…

"Grab his shoulder," Harry heard Malfoy say quietly. Harry barely had time to ponder what Malfoy was about to do, before Malfoy and Goyle grabbed Harry under the arms. A heartbeat later, so fast that harry could do nothing, the other boys had kicked off and were rising up fast on their brooms. In the confusion, Harry dropped his own, the wood clattering to the dirt.

"Hey, HEY!" Harry shouted, his hands flailing around for a hold as he watched the ground recede fast from him. The Slytherins were all laughing and pointing, Gryffindors were all screaming and shouting, all as Malfoy and Goyle climbed higher and higher with Harry between them. "Let me go! Let me-"

"Let you go?" Malfoy shouted over the wind. "Oh, maybe… okay Potter, we'll let you go!" Malfoy declared, as he and Goyle past the hundred foot mark. Harry looked down to the distant ground, then up at Malfoy, who smirked…

And then Malfoy and Goyle let go.

For a moment, Harry's stomach inverted. The wind hit him like a slap to the face. Underneath him the girls were screaming, the boys were shouting, everyone was running away from the crash site, diving for cover…

Everyone except for Merula. In a mad instance of brilliance or desperation, she had grabbed Harry's broom and was waving it over her head, directly beneath him. "HARRY! HARRY! UP! UP!"

In the second before collision, Harry understood. His hand shot out of his sleeve, reaching desperately for the broom underneath him, fingers splayed, the handle visible between the gaps. "UP!" he bellowed, putting all his will and concentration into the call.

Like a magnet to a lodestone, Harry's broom leapt from Merula's grasp, shooting straight up to the descending summoner. It crashed into Harry's hands and he seized it with a vice's grip, clenching his fingers so hard that the grain of the handle squeaked. Then magic met momentum, and Harry found himself swinging and rolling underneath the broomstick, Magic carrying it up, him dragging it down, the combination a hard brake in midair.

Harry opened his eyes and found himself slowly and gently drifting down to the lawn of Hogwarts, hanging loose underneath the broomstick. He touched down, lowered the broom, and slowly gave Merula a shaky smile. "S-so…"

"What can I say?" Merula said, humbly bragging. "I'm the fastest thinking Witch in Hogwarts."

"…I know," Harry told her earnestly, punching her shoulder with a sore arm.

Merula turned to the stunned students, with Malfoy and Goyle hovering above them all. "And that's how it's done!" she declared.

"MR MALFOY! MR GOYLE!" The echoing tones of Madam Hooch reached the students, all of them turning to see the older woman running across the grounds. She was on the far side from Merula and Harry, and evidently hadn't seen Harry's landing, as she was quite on about something else. "What did I say about flying when I wasn't around!?"

In the end though, Malfoy and Goyle weren't sent from the class. Malfoy said that he had talked Goyle into it, and that he was really sorry, and he didn't want to go from the class, he just wanted to have some fun was all. Harry, who watched the whole act, had to give Malfoy credit: his crocodile tears were just as convincing as Dudley's.

"…So, I guess this means we have a new story for flying about," Harry said to Merula as the class finally started to turn in for dinner. "Flung across the grounds of the school and saved by summoning a broomstick?"

"You stole Malfoy's broomstick out from under him," Merula declared.

"After the Slytherin's shoved you off a cliff," Ron added. "I can't wait for the next lesson though. This is gonna be amazing. Maybe Hooch will invite my brother Charlie along to teach us."

"Charlie was a Seeker in Quidditch, right?" Harry asked. "That game played on Broomsticks. Is it hard to be a Seeker?"

"Yeah," Ron admitted. "He was a Chaser first, but a Seeker after his third year. Took a lot for him to do well. Maybe when I'm in my second year, I'll try out for the Quidditch team…"

"I think you'll do great Ron," Harry said. "Maybe when we all reach second year?"

"If I'm a Seeker in my second year, you'll all get smoked," Merula declared haughtily. "Just you wait. I'll be the most powerful Seeker in Hogwarts."

"Whatever you say Merula," Harry said. He sighed though. First years couldn't try out to join the Quidditch teams… couldn't even have their own brooms. But what could you do?

Harry, Ron, and Merula all settled down at the Gryffindor table for dinner, and talked of broomsticks, Quidditch, and impossible dreams… all while, not half a table away, Oliver Wood agonized over a Seeker he simply could not find.