"Ron, do you know anything about the Nott family?"
Harry's voice was studiously casual as he tried to balance the chessboard on his lap. It would have been a bit easier, he thought, if Ron's chess pieces weren't quite so boisterous tonight. As it was, Harry was having to physically restrain his outraged knight from charging Ron's bishop after an admittedly disastrous move on Harry's part. Pinching the head between his thumb and forefinger as the tiny figure began shouting curses at Harry (and at his mother, father, and the 'deranged imbecile' who had decided to teach him chess), Harry wondered if all chess pieces were so energetic, or if some of Ron's rather fiery personality had rubbed off on these ones somehow.
"Bishop to B4," Ron mumbled from where he was lying on his own bed, looking rather miserable and flushed in the dim light. Harry was taking it as a good sign for his recovery that he could focus enough for a game of chess. He was just happy that he could finally spend some time relaxing with his best friend after the mess of the summer and the chaos of the new term (even if it did mean subjecting himself to the humiliation of playing Ron at chess).
They were speaking softly so as not to wake the others. Sometimes, on nights like this, Harry found his eyes started prickling for no good reason: Ron's warm, sleepy voice; the bedside candle throwing soft light over the photo of his smiling parents; the fire crackling and spitting gently in the corner, warming him even from here; the quiet sleeping sounds of his friends around the room; Harry sometimes found he had to swallow hard suddenly. It was a persistent reminder of how much his life had changed in only the last two years; it hit him out of nowhere, some days, how far he was now from the lonely little boy in that dark, cold cupboard.
"The Notts?" Ron asked, face screwing up a little as he fought off a yawn. Harry blinked back to the moment and returned to reluctantly scanning the board for a move that wouldn't end in a full-out coup from his pieces.
"I think I heard dad mention one of the Notts once, a few years ago, when he was talking about the War. Don't really remember what he said, though. Why?"
Harry shrugged, trying not to dislodge the board. "No reason, really. Just had to pair with Nott for potions today and I realised I don't really know anything about him. Merlin!" His rook had joined the cause, jabbing his sword into Harry's thumb with vengeance. "Ugh, fine, knight to... D4." He scowled as the wriggling little piece leapt for freedom.
"Hmph. Don't suppose there'd be much to know. Gives me the creeps, he does." Ron pulled a face, presumably at being forced to think about a Slytherin while already ill in bed. Harry smiled and quickly changed the subject to something that would cheer Ron up.
A mortifying fifteen minutes later, the chess set was pushed deep under Ron's bed where Harry hoped it would remain for the foreseeable future, and both boys settled in for the night.
Sleep took its time finding Harry, and when it did he dreamt of wriggling headless caterpillars and dark, gleaming bruises.
The next morning, Harry was interrupted during his breakfast by a piece of parchment being tossed casually onto his plate.
"Hermione asked me to give you this," Parvati said around a yawn, falling onto a seat opposite him with Lavender in tow.
"Oh, thanks. How's she doing?" Harry asked, nudging the letter off his toast.
"She's driving us spare," Lavender moaned, spooning some porridge into her bowl with a scowl on her usually cheery face. "She's convinced she's going to fail everything and she won't stop badgering us to tell her everything we've been learning in class, again."
"Never mind that she's getting all the notes like everyone else 'cause of that charm Flitwick set up," Parvati added, seemingly a little more relaxed about Hermione's impending breakdown. Being twins with a Ravenclaw must give you nerves of steel about that sort of thing, Harry reasoned.
"It's truly an impressive piece of magic," Percy Weasley interrupted from where he was sitting a few seats down. "It's a variation on the Gemino charm. Flitwick's had us practising it in our NEWT class," he said with his usual pomposity. Harry supposed it was a clever charm – everything written on the master copy would appear on every linked piece of parchment; that way, the sick students could still receive notes from their classes while in bed. Clever as it was, however, it seemed like only Hermione, Percy, and most of the Ravenclaws appreciated it. Ron had had a few choice words to say when he found out he'd still be receiving assignments to catch up on for when he was better.
Harry cast Percy a rather forced smile as he carried on espousing the properties of the charm, and hurriedly picked up the note from Hermione. Lavender and Parvati had been right: Hermione was definitely going spare. She was requesting he pick up 'a few' – Harry counted eight – extra books from the library for her so she wouldn't fall behind. With a sigh, he pulled out a quill from his bag and scribbled a response on the back:
Hermione, it's only the third day of school! No one is falling behind. You'd be ahead of the whole year even if you have to stay in bed for a month (although don't panic, Madame Pomfrey said you'll be fine by the end of the week, didn't she?)
But fine, I'll grab you the books after class and get someone to bring them up to you. Eight seems like a lot, though, Hermione. You're sick, remember? You should be relaxing. Anyway, I hope you're feeling better and I'll talk to you soon.
Harry
After securing an only mildly resentful agreement from Lavender that she'd pass the note along at lunch, Harry scooped up his things and headed for his first class. Today would be their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson and he couldn't wait to see what Hagrid would be like as a teacher.
"Alrigh', who else wants a go?" Hagrid asked the class as the cheers from Harry's sudden flight began to die down.
The students swarmed into the paddock as Harry attempted catch his breath and his footing. Merlin. He definitely preferred his broom. Since he had been the guinea pig, Harry was left watching as the rest of the class began approaching the Hippogriffs. They were sharing the class with the Slytherins, and Harry once again thanked the stars that Malfoy was still sick in bed. He had heard the blonde boy complaining during the welcoming feast about having Hagrid for a teacher, and was grateful Hagrid wouldn't have to be exposed to the vile boy quite so soon. It was definitely for the best he was sick; he couldn't imagine the prat agreeing to bow to a magical creature.
Harry decided to do a little aimless wandering around the paddock while the rest of the class got to work. Lavender and Parvati had headed straight for the Hippogriff with the pinkish roan coat, and they seemed to have fallen in love, Harry noted with a smile. He could hear them cooing from here. The rest of the class seemed to be getting along just as well.
As Harry completed his circle, he saw that he had missed some Slytherins standing towards the back of the closure, near a Hippogriff which looked far meaner than the rest. With a jolt, he recognised Theodore Nott amid the group. Tracey Davis seemed to have successfully befriended the mean-looking Hippogriff and was in the middle of cooing something gently to it when Harry, quite without deciding to, found himself approaching them. Millicent Bullstrode, standing between Davis and Nott, looked up at him with a wary frown. She was tall and broad, with hair that fell messily around her shoulders. She had a serious face, and Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen her smile.
"What do you want, Potter?" she asked, once Harry came to a stop several feet from the trio. Nott's head jerked up at the mention of his name and Harry met his eyes for a brief moment. He had time to register a look of surprise on the other boy's face before he affected a cool look and turned pointedly back to the Hippogriff.
"Er," Harry said. Now that he was here, he couldn't quite say what had brought him over. His mind raced. Merlin, why did he always end up sounding like an idiot in front of Slytherins?
"I just… came to look at this Hippogriff," he said, nodding over to the brutish creature nuzzling into Davis' hand. "It's, uh, got a lovely coat." Harry could feel his face burning as all three of them turned to look at him. A lovely coat? It was true enough, as its bronze fur was definitely one of the most striking in the herd, but one glance at Bullstrode's unimpressed face let him know she saw right through him. In mild panic, he turned to Davis.
"Ah, you really have a way with it, Davis," he said, trying to inject a bit of casualness into his voice, as if he regularly wandered over to chat with his Slytherin classmates. He smiled weakly. Davis looked at him with her eyebrows raised and shot a slightly amused look towards the others. She was almost as tall as Nott but had a much more open face, and her eyes were piercing as she studied Harry. Her long brown hair was tied in a neat braid behind her, and Harry immediately had the thought that she was the kind of person who would look completely at home in any situation. "Thank you, Potter," she said with only a little irony in her voice. "She reminds me of one of our Kneazles at home, actually." She turned back to the creature with a gentle smile.
"Er, right." Harry sought around desperately for something to say. "Uh, did you know Hermione has a Kneazle? His name is Crookshanks. He's cute, I suppose, but he's a little…" Davis' eyes narrowed at him rapidly. "I mean, he's great! And very… independent," he finished, lamely.
"Potter," Bullstrode interrupted. "Not that this isn't a great chat and all, but now that you've seen the Hippogriff…" Her voice trailed off meaningfully. She was still giving him a suspicious look.
Before he could think of another excuse, Hagrid's booming voice rang out from the other side of the paddock.
"Righ', you lot. Now that everyone's had a chance ter meet one o' the Hippogriffs, yeh can start gettin' into pairs. No time ter squabble, just grab whoever's next ter yeh and that'll do."
Davis and Bullstrode shared a quick look and took off towards the front of the paddock where the rest of the class were slowly congregating.
"Er," Harry said, turning to Nott. Merlin, why couldn't he seem to speak in sentences around the other boy?
Nott sighed, his perpetual frown somehow deepening. Harry could see now how tired the other boy looked. Had his sleep been as bad as Harry's?
"Come on, then, Potter." He took off after the others without delay, and Harry jogged forward to catch up.
As the class gathered around Hagrid, Harry spotted Pansy Parkinson scowling next to Crabbe and Goyle; it appeared they had had to make a trio. Harry had to look away to hide his smirk.
"Righ', so, Hippogriffs. Now tha' yeh've all met them, let's talk more 'bout 'em. Hippogriffs are native ter Europe, but you find them everywhere these days 'cause of breeders. Their feathers are mighty useful for a lot o' things. Can anyone think o' a use for 'em?" Hagrid scanned the students hesitantly.
After a moment, Lavender raised a tentative hand. "I think I've heard of Hippogriff feathers being used in wand-making?"
"Excellen', Lavender!" Hagrid smiled at her gratefully. "Two points ter Gryffindor." Lavender beamed.
"Anythin' else?" Hagrid asked. The class looked back blankly. There was silence for a few seconds, as Hagrid's face began to fall, before suddenly Nott's hand raised smoothly into the air, startling Harry.
"Mr. Nott?" Hagrid nodded encouragingly at the boy, looking relieved.
"They're used frequently in potions for their stabilising properties. And to make quills, I believe, though they're rather unwieldy so are mostly decorative." His voice was quiet and smooth, but his eyes seemed to be resting somewhere near Hagrid's beard.
"Well done, Mr. Nott! Take four points fer Slytherin." Harry could see Davis shooting Nott an appreciative look, which the boy didn't seem to notice.
"So, breedin'," Hagrid continued. As Harry listened, he found his eyes drifting over to the Slytherins more than once. Nott and Davis seemed to be paying careful attention, but Harry could see Bullstrode's eyes glazing over slightly within a few minutes. They stood loosely apart, but in a way that made it clear that they were still together. Harry felt himself frown. He tried to think back to other classes and meals in the Great Hall he had shared with the Slytherins. Now that he thought about it, he often saw those three sitting near each other. Along with, sometimes, another boy, Blaise Zabini. Harry wondered why he'd never noticed there was a divide in their year within Slytherin before. Gryffindor seemed much more relaxed and friendly in comparison.
He was jerked back to attention when Hagrid clapped his hands. "So, if one person comes forward an' picks up some food, the other can pick a Hippogriff and yeh can begin introducing yerself. Mind don' pick one yeh've already met." Nobody moved. Most did not look enthralled at the concept of feeding the creatures. "Well, off yeh go." Hagrid waved at the buckets set up by the paddock entrance as the students began to reluctantly trickle forward. A burst of fondness swelled up in Harry's chest as he saw how Hagrid was looking proudly around at his class. He caught Harry's eye and they shared a grin while Harry shot him a thumbs up. He turned back, still smiling, and saw that Nott was watching the exchange.
"Uh. I'll just go get the food," Harry mumbled quickly after an awkward moment of silence and took off without looking back. When Harry reached the buckets, he balked. Inside the one on the left was a pile of what looked like small, dead birds of different breeds; and in the other, Harry spotted several very dead rabbits and fish.
"Oh, Merlin." Harry looked up to see his own horror reflected back on Lavender's face. "Are we supposed to touch these?" There was a note of panic in her voice. Harry really couldn't blame her. They shared a look of commiseration before Harry shuffled closer. Holding the edge of his robes, he carefully used it to pick up a few of the birds by their legs. "Yuck," he said, pulling a face at Lavender, who seemed to be eyeing up her own far nicer robes with a look of dismay.
Harry made his way back over to Nott, who seemed to have selected a Hippogriff grazing off to the side with a deep chestnut coat. He was standing several feet away and watching the Hippogriff graze, face unreadable. Harry trotted over and immediately felt the Hippogriff's interested gaze lock onto his robes, reminding him for a moment of Hedwig when he brought out her treats.
"So, they eat gross little dead birds, apparently. I grabbed one for each of us," Harry said. He looked between the boy and Hippogriff. "Have you, er, introduced yourself yet?"
Nott gave him an unimpressed look and turned warily to face the Hippogriff. After staring at it for a few moments, he sighed and began stepping forward slowly. His dark eyes were trained unerringly onto the Hippogriff's steely gaze. As he got within a few feet of the creature and showed no sign of further action, Harry began to feel nervous. "Er, Nott? Don't forget to bow."
Nott seemed not to hear him. The Hippogriff now looked to be getting agitated. Its head had twitched sharply to the side as it watched Nott's approach and it seemed to be shifting its weight. Just as Harry started to become truly alarmed, a muscle on Nott's jaw seemed to twitch and he jerked stiffly into a sudden low bow. The Hippogriff appraised him haughtily for a moment in which Harry didn't breathe, before slowly dipping its head in a far more graceful mirror of the boy. Nott straightened up sharply and stood watching the creature for a moment. After a few silent seconds, Nott raised a pale hand, slowly, and rested it softly on the neck of the beast. The Hippogriff's gaze was fixed intently on him as Nott's hand started to gently stroke across its neck and down its flank, slowly parting the thick feathers. For a moment, Harry was mesmerised.
A few moments later, Nott turned to look back at the other boy, and caught Harry staring. Harry was struck for a moment by his appearance. Nott looked exhausted, with dark shadows under his eyes and, he noted with alarm, a few hairs sticking out messily on his forehead; but his eyes were bright and his face was more open than Harry had seen it yet. He could feel his mouth widening into an irrepressible grin. Nott's own lips twitched in response, and the moment stretched-
"Nice one, Theo!" Davis' voice bellowed suddenly from behind Harry, and Nott blinked. He looked around Harry and nodded vaguely in that direction.
Harry cleared his throat and began the process of introducing himself to the Hippogriff.
"Right," he said, after a nerve-wracking minute of sucking up to the creature. "One each?" he asked Nott, holding out one of the birds with his robe. Nott's lip curled as he looked unhappily down at the dead animals, and Harry had to smother another smile. After a second, however, Nott simply raised his wand. Harry had a moment of bewildered panic before Nott intoned, 'Wingardium Leviosa' and the bird was gently pulled from his hand. With the bird suspended in mid-air, Nott looked back to where the Hippogriff's eyes were fixed unerringly on its meal. With a lazy flick of his arm, Nott tossed the bird into the air towards it and Harry jumped as the Hippogriff's head snapped forward to snatch it in its beak. It gulped its meal down greedily and gave Nott what Harry thought was a very appreciative look.
Harry looked from Nott's relaxed posture to the Hippogriff now staring at the bird in his robed hand as if hypnotised. Right. Clearing his throat, he considered using the levitation spell too, in a wild impulse to one-up the boy, but, well, Harry was already touching the bird. Instead he attempted to toss it as casually as Nott had. His aim was a little off, however, and the snap of the Hippogriff's jaws inches away from his fingers was far too close for Harry's comfort. He let out a yelp as he snatched his hand back. A soft snort came from behind him. Shooting a glare in Nott's vague direction, Harry cleared his throat and stepped forward boldly to pet the Hippogriff again. It nosed at his robes for more birds, but finding none, eventually gave up and accepted the petting with an air of great suffering.
"So, uh, what other elective are you taking this year?" Harry asked Nott without turning around. He continued patting the Hippogriff as the silence stretched.
"What are you doing, Potter?" Nott asked suddenly, voice cold.
"Huh? I'm… petting the Hippogriff?" Harry said, a touch bewildered.
"I mean, why are you talking to me all of a sudden? And why did you try to pair with me in class today?"
"Oh," Harry said. "Well, you know." He could feel a flush creep up his neck. "No reason, really. I just… realised, I guess, that we've never actually talked, even though we've been in the same classes for two years. And, y'know, Ron and Hermione aren't here, so. What better time to talk to new people, you know?" He shrugged, focusing on the rhythmic motion of his hand across the Hippogriff's back. He thought idly that he could see the appeal now. There was something very comforting about such a dangerous, proud creature tilting its head to the side to give better access for Harry to scratch at its ears. "Good boy. Er, or girl?". Hagrid hadn't covered how to tell the difference yet. Another sigh came from behind him. Harry was rather getting used to that response by now.
"Girl. The females are larger than the males," Nott told him. Harry turned to glance at him curiously. "Tracey told me earlier," he said, looking away with a jerky shrug.
Harry hummed. "She must really like magical creatures."
"She's obsessed," Nott replied, sounding so unimpressed that Harry couldn't help but laugh. He quickly turned to hide his face in the Hippogriff's neck, conscious that Nott might not like being laughed at.
"Good girl," he mumbled, and tried not to think about the eyes he felt fixed on the back of his neck.
That night at dinner, Harry felt his gaze drift over once again to the Slytherin table. He couldn't quite explain this sudden fixation on Nott, and it was beginning to make him uncomfortable. It was true that he'd never really talked to him before this week (or given him a single thought, really); but Harry supposed that was true of most of the school. He had never caught himself staring across at, say, Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, who he'd shared classes with but had never spoken to beyond borrowing the odd quill. But for some reason, no matter where he looked his eyes kept straying back to him. The bruise, then. He had assumed the worst of where it had come from, but maybe there was a reasonable explanation?
And even if there wasn't, Harry thought with a squirming in his stomach, what business was it of his? You weren't supposed to talk about these kinds of things, were you? He remembered it being discussed on the television once, when he'd been small. Something about a girl whose parents had been arrested for mistreating her. He remembered stopping dead as he was passing in the hall, struck by the look on her face. She stared at the camera and Harry remembered that she didn't look scared, or upset, really. She was completely calm; she mostly just looked confused. The girl said something to the man on the telly about it being normal for her, and Harry found then, like now, that a sickly, stabbing feeling had begun squirming in his stomach. Uncle Vernon had scoffed, Aunt Petunia had turned the channel to one of her soaps, and Harry had went on his way. Now, though, thinking of Nott sitting alone across the Hall, steadily eating his dinner and seemingly talking to no one, Harry couldn't help but remember the girl's face, and the way it reminded him jarringly of Nott's when Harry had seen his wrist.
