Harry is a nice boy.
Monday morning, Harry found a gaggle of third years in the Common room on the way to breakfast.
"Greengrass" said Harry politely to the pissed-off blonde "Did Fawkes help?"
"The bird is apparently thinking about it" said Greengrass angrily "A bloody bird is thinking about it."
"Bribe it with hot chillis" said Harry "The headmaster fed him one, apparently he likes them but it gives Fawkes the runs."
Greengrass looked surprised "You're helping me?" she asked.
"Well that was a misunderstanding" said Harry studiously politely, walked around the other Third years and went to breakfast. He'd found his bollocks were tiny on Sunday night. Never again.
Zabini sat down opposite Harry and a tiny cup of very dark coffee that appeared right in front of him, which he sipped.
"Most of us simply avoid Greengrass, and try to take care of Little Greengrass" explained Zabini. "It's safer that way."
"I've got one escaped murderer after me, I need to have less enemies" said Harry philosophically.
Zabini blinked "You know, in first year, that would have had me snorting coffee out my nose" he observed calmly.
"Sorry" replied Harry. "I'll try harder next time."
Zabini snorted. "Are you really trying out for the Quidditch team? Since Draco died we've not had a decent Seeker."
"What does a Seeker do, exactly?" asked Harry, and he was subjected to an explanation with knives used as imaginary brooms, and a salt-shaker as the golden snitch.
"So I fly around and find this golden snitch to end the game?" asked Harry.
"How can you no know anything about Quidditch, Gryffindor are obsessed by it?" asked Zabini, increasingly incredulous.
"I've been learning magic" said Harry politely.
And had two periods to catch up on assignments before divination before lunch.
Divination class had more tessomancy.
If the tea wasn't so bad, it wouldn't be so hard.
"Death, death stalks you" wailed Professor Trelawney. It was another bloody grim.
Harry tried to look suitably impressed.
At lunch, Greengrass made some sort of exchange with Padma Patil from Ravenclaw. They were pretty quick-handed, but Patil's bangle glittered, and that attracted Harry's eye.
Greengrass gave Little Greengrass whatever it was. Harry was really trying to think in the terms the other Slytherins used.
"Potter, does it bother you that Professor Trelawny always predicts your death every class" asked Lily Moon, the black haired one; that did definitely not do voodoo.
"Uh, well I do keep getting a Grim in my teacup every lesson" said Harry "But I've been getting them since August, so I think something's just screwy with fate."
Moon looked shocked "Since August?" she asked.
"I tried all the divination methods once I had the textbooks, to see if they worked for me" asked Harry "Nothing seems to work, but maybe I'll get the hang of it."
Theo Nott whispered to Harry "You're taking divination seriously?" he asked.
"I'm not making any more trouble for myself with them" whispered Harry.
Lily Moon looked at Harry oddly, and went back to eating.
After lunch Ginny Weasley button-holed Harry in the hallway just outside the great hall.
"Potter, can you get me some stuff in Hogsmeade next weekend?" she asked nervously.
"I suppose" replied Harry. Weasley the younger; how addictive that way of labelling was, it seemed in Harry's mind.
"I'll get you a list" she said firmly.
"I'm not buying you clothes. Get a girl for that" said Harry.
Ginny looked determined. "A broom, actually. I want a decent broom."
Harry shrugged and walked on, to go get assignments done before History.
"Potter" interrupted a Slytherin girl; Pansy. Harry was practically sure it was Pansy.
"Yes" asked Harry.
"Why are you associating with the blood traitor?" asked Pansy.
"She knows me from last year, wants me to get her stuff from Hogsmeade." Harry replied.
"As if, Weasleys have no money" said Pansy dismissively.
"Oh Weasley the younger sold something very expensive to me, she's got money" explained Harry, and the world went black.
Harry woke up in the infirmary again.
Madam Pomfrey fussed over him, fed him Skele-Grow and told Harry that his bits just had a couple of little dots of scarring. Harry felt this was a bit unjust.
He'd missed History of Magic.
Harry had to duck a curse on the way to his dorm room.
"Bloody hell" said Harry "Are they mental?"
"Never ask that" said Nott. "And did you really buy the Weasley girl's under-age virtue?"
Harry had to think about that for a bit, then blushed "No I bloody didn't" he denied, once he worked out what that was.
Nott gave Zabini a sickle.
"You have the survival skills of a puffskein" said Zabini. "Where Pansy is, Greengrass, Moon, Davis and Bulstrode will be. They went wild on you. So many unusual spells."
"I bought a book from Weasley" said Harry "A book she'd been given, and it was too interesting to pass up. In the end, I passed it on to the Headmaster. A cursed dark book, it turned out."
"You know about curses?" asked Nott. "Apart from being hit by them, of course."
"I've read books." retorted Harry "I don't know any, I'm interested in Defence."
"Well, you need to work on your dodging" replied Zabini, smirking.
Harry made a mental note of that. He did know where to learn, after all.
After the second night of dodging spells from training dummies, Harry found somewhere inside himself a sort of… springy urge to be elsewhere. If he gave in to it, the dummies mostly missed.
Friday evening, Harry went down to the quidditch pitch. Twenty students who might well be Slytherins were there, not in school robes. Brooms, a wooden trunk and a few bottles of butterbeer.
He was given a school broom that wasn't really busted and told to fly around the field, and loop around the goalposts. Harry slalomed around the three posts, down the field, around the other three and back to the middle.
"Okay" said the snaggle-toothed boy, who was called Flint and was the captain.
"Now, get on this broom and try it again" said Flint and handed over a sleek, glossy broom that looked more like Uncle Vernon's car than a floor cleaning implement.
Harry lifted off and shot down the field. This broom was fast, the hoops came up fast, and Harry barely got around them before turning, and heading back, to actually slalom the three poles at the other end. The broom handed so well, it was like Harry just had to think, and it moved.
Harry landed "Great broom" said Harry.
"It was Malfoy's team broom" said Flint. "Lets see if you can catch a practice snitch."
Harry flew off as directed and Flint threw a familiar small golden ball. Harry bunched his muscles, and willed the broom into and intercept; catching the ball before it hit the ground. It was actually quite fun, he thought as he threw the ball inaccurately back to Flint.
"He's not Chaser material" said another senior student on a broom.
Flint threw the ball again, and Harry zipped over and caught it before it started to fall.
"He's not bad" said the other boy. "Can he catch a real Snitch?"
Flint opened the wooden trunk and took a tiny golden ball, that sprouted tiny wings and darted off too fast to see.
Flint conjured an hourglass "How quick can you be" yelled Flint.
Harry darted about, then flew higher, looking down, trying to concentrate on seeing a golden darting thing… .
It was a lot later that Harry caught the Snitch. "I got it" he yelled.
"Twenty eight minutes" said Flint "You'll have to do better than that. Practice is Saturday morning."
Harry landed in the darkening grounds. "What?"
"You're better than Bailey. You're Seeker till you do worse than him" explained Flint.
Harry was shown where the broom-locker was and stowed the broom in the set of seven for the Slytherin team.
Harry went back to the dorms for a shower.
One the way across the common-room he was not hexed.
"Where'd the Raven Snake go" asked Pansy.
Flint scoffed "Our new seeker was learning to catch Snitches" said the older boy.
Harry went to the dorm room and got some clean clothes, and had a shower.
He was getting dressed when Nott asked "You're on the Quidditch team? You can't replace Malfoy. Don't try" he said quite emotionally.
"I'm better than Bailey, apparently. Flint says I need to get better" said Harry "Now I've got an essay."
Harry was crossing the common room with his Potions essay, when Little Greengrass approached.
"Greengrass" said Harry politely.
"Thank you" she said "I feel lots better."
"Don't thank me, you did the hard part" said Harry "The swallowing is the worst part."
Harry was hit by a hex and flipped across the room to land painfully upside-down against a couch.
Just before he lost consciousness, he saw some senior girls with their wands out.
Harry woke up in a familiar bed.
"Mister Potter" said Madam Pomfrey "Your medical consulting business seems to leave you badly hexed" she said. "Try keeping your mouth shut."
"All I said was that swallowing was the worst part" said Harry.
Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand at him "I've mended the bones, and your bits will just take a bit longer to recover, that's all."
Harry resolved to pass through the common room invisible, at least until he could cast some sort of protection spell.
Harry was released in time for breakfast. "The training dummy returns" said Zabini.
Harry nodded his head once, and sat down to eat. He felt sore all over so decided on sausages and eggs.
After breakfast, he went back to dorms, changed into messy clothes, pocketed his invisibility cloak and went to quidditch practice. He had an idea.
After practice, hot and a bit sweaty, he used a corner of the stands to hide behind and put his invisibility cloak on, then slowly walked over towards where the Dementors were, slowly feeling colder and colder. The woman started to scream. 'Not Harry, Take me, Not Harry' she screamed.
Harry backed away from the line of Dementors, took several deep breaths and advanced again.
After twenty minutes, Harry felt chilled, depressed and… had heard his mother for about ten minutes. Crying, pleading, and probably dying, but he'd heard her, over and over again. He tried to commit her voice to memory; to have something to remember.
He turned around and went back to the castle. Lunch was being served, and Harry, no longer invisible found something chocolate; hot chocolate. He drank a goblet full, and started on another.
He ignored his fellow Slytherins, sitting, eating hungrily and drinking hot chocolate, and slowly feeling better.
"You stink" observed Crabbe.
"Quidditch" said Harry.
That night Harry took off for some extra-curricular training. The room of requirement's training dummies cast spells if that's what you wanted. He took some cheering draught and set to practicing.
Dodging got Harry to two or three assailants. He wanted to learn to shield. Really he wanted to learn to flick spell away like some total badass, the advanced textbooks said it was possible, but he was thirteen. Shield charms. Besides, walking through the common room without getting hexed would be nice.
The spell took weeks of evenings to get to work, and stopped a training dummy's spells.
It broke quickly against multiple attackers. He took to casting it before crossing the common room, just in case.
More practice, now cut into by Quidditch practice.
Then, finally a Saturday Quidditch game. Slytherin versus Gryffindor. The common room was tense.
"Don't lose" said a stubble-cheeked seventh year boy, in a tone that promised a beating.