A/N: Fair warning- this chapter also gets sad at some points. But what is Harry Potter if not a story about love and war and copious amounts of childhood trauma?
Updated 9/9/22 - Fixed a timeline inconsistency (I had the year wrong before, but thank you Nanettez for pointing it out! Hopefully I got it all cleaned up now. It is currently 1976 in the story.)
Warning(s): violence and descriptions of illness/injuries/blood, mentions of child abuse, mentions of canonical character death
Chapter 8 - Another Glorious Morning (makes me sick)
It took Harry three more days to fully recover. Even with magic, concussions are a bitch. Madam Pomfrey was thoroughly unamused on day two when Harry tried to convince her to let him go, pleading- "Please, Madam Pomfrey! I feel totally fine now- even my vision is back to normal!" But apparently he had failed to previously mention any vision problems, causing his comment to result in a very long and in-depth lecture about the dangers of hiding symptoms from medical professionals and the need to take one's own health seriously. She may or may not have kept him the extra night out of spite…
However, the extra few days in the hospital wing were probably actually a good thing in the end. By the time Harry was released, the school had had time to sort itself out and the students had time to get their heads around the situation.
Thankfully, things quieted down fairly quickly after what Harry had internally dubbed 'the Parselmouth incident' and following 'attack'. Really, Snape had inadvertently done Harry a huge favor. While in his second year, the revelation that Harry was a Parselmouth had been shrouded in the terror of the ongoing attacks on muggleborns throughout the school which had only served to emphasized his presumed 'dark' ability. This time, it was Harry who had been attacked- persecuted for something he could not control and was using to help someone. And what kind of dark-lord-in-the-making couldn't defend themselves from being hexed in the corridor? No- here, Harry was just the new kid who wore glasses, who was small for his age, and who some cruel bigot took advantage of. It all had played into the narrative quite nicely.
The Hogwarts rumor mill was also, for once, working to Harry's benefit. Not only had it spread like wildfire that he was a Parselmouth and then that he was attacked for being a Parselmouth, but it had also had the decency to spread the story that he had saved Shebly during that fateful day in the forest in addition to the versions where he had egged the snake on- or even summoned it- to attack her. While it wasn't perfect, it was the best Harry could have hoped for. At least the truth was out there and after things had calmed down a little, by the day after, even Shelby was telling everyone who would listen that Harry had called the snake off.
When Harry was finally released back into the regular student population, he was greeted with an overwhelming number of sympathetic looks and softly spoken inquiries about how he was feeling coupled with reaching hands that did not quite touch him as if they were afraid he would shatter on contact. While Harry absolutely hated the pity, he also vastly preferred it to the alternative scorn, so he grudgingly accepted the gestures with a shy smile and a reassuring nod.
While Harry was still stuck in the hospital wing, the remaining 6th year Gryffindor boys took advantage of one of their Harry-free moments to sneak off to their favorite hideaway. Friday night found the boys settled into the vacant classroom in the east wing. Sirius, who had been in a mood since Tuesday, was slumped grumpily in a bean bag chair off to one side. Peter, who had not been much better, was flopped in an armchair nearby. Remus had opted to recline casually on the floor in a little nest they had created out of odd pillows and blankets that they had nicked over the years and James was actually pacing back and forth between them all.
Finally, Remus broke the tense silence of the room. "James- quit that. You are making me dizzy," he snapped, though it lacked any real bite. James just glared at him and did not cease his pacing. Letting out a long sigh, Remus asked playfully, "Huston, we have a problem?"
That got James to stop. The other boy looked at him with an incredulous expression. "A problem? Try 'Houston, we have a shit-ton of problems!'" James all but shouted before slumping down into his own bean bag chair.
"Well, it's a good thing that we came here to deal with them then," Remus said calmly. Seeing that no one else was stepping up to speak, he continued, "How about we make a list- then start crossing things off of it? Hm?" He summoned some parchment and a quill and then waited, quill poised, for someone else to start talking.
"The full moon is coming up," said Sirius, looking at them for the first time since he sat down. Remus made a note on his parchment.
"Snape," James said after a beat.
"Harry," Sirius added.
"Those two's attitude," James said, sending a glare over to Sirius and Peter.
"Our attitude?" Sirius asked venomously.
"Yes," Remus snapped. "Your attitude. You two have been acting like petulant children all week and you need to sort yourselves out before Harry comes back."
Sirius was fuming. "Before Harry-" he cut himself off, visibly trying to reign in his temper. Then he said in a clipped voice, "I don't have a problem with Harry."
James snorted, "Yeah, right."
"We came to visit him in the hospital wing, didn't we?" Sirius lashed back.
"No, you didn't," Remus cut in. "You came to apologize to me. You being there had nothing to do with Harry."
Sirius' mouth clicked closed at the truth of this statement.
"Why do you have such a problem with it?" Remus' voice had turned confused. "If I didn't know you better, I would say you were just a bigot. But I do know you better Pads, and there is something else, beyond the general mass hysteria around Parselmouths. So, what is it?"
They could see the war happening within Sirius playing out on his face before he unfolded his arms and finally said, "My mother would adopt him in a heartbeat if she could."
That was not what any of them had expected him to say.
He continued, "It's just such a rare and- coveted- ability that every dark witch or wizard would literally kill to have. Or to get access to someone who has it. I mean- look at You-Know-Who! Sure, it's not the only reason those nutters follow him, but for many, it is a contributing factor. I guess it all just- rubbed me the wrong way. I don't think Harry is necessarily evil because he is a Parselmouth, but-" he cut himself off again, searching for the right way to say what he felt needed to be said. "He has a lot of secrets. And we don't actually know anything about him. Or where he came from. Yes- he has been nothing but nice and sweet since he got here, but Wamblers are cute and sweet too- until you get too close and they sink their fangs in. Now, I'm not saying Harry is a Wambler who is going to betray us or anything," he defended quickly, "But I also don't think we should forget the way he took down Avery or that, even if he might not remember it, he does have a past."
A heavy silence followed Sirius' speech as everyone processed what he had said.
"You of all people, Sirius, should know that it is not fair to judge someone on where they come from," James finally said with a note of reproach in his voice.
"James-" he said, looking straight at his best friend, "I still remember the look in your eyes when you sat down across from me the day of our sorting. Back when all you knew about me was that I was a Black. You looked terrified at the idea of sharing a dormitory with me and it took you weeks to stop worrying that I would curse you the second your back was turned… I am getting over it- I promise. But choosing to get over something and actually doing it are two different things and one of them takes a little longer than the other. But you don't have to worry- I won't upset Bambi when he comes back."
James nodded in acceptance of what he said and then turned his attention to Peter. "What about you, Wormy? What's your problem with doe eyes?"
"I just- don't like snakes," he said lamely.
"You do realize that he is not a snake, right?" James said with a note of condescension.
"He called himself a 'snake-person'," Peter defended himself.
"Yeah, when he was concussed out of his mind! Barely half of what he said was actually making any sense." James let out an exasperated breath. "What if we tell him to keep any and all snakes out of the dorms? All pets are to remain fluffy. Owls, bunnies, and the like. Okay?"
"Bunnies?" Sirius piped up, questioningly.
James smirked. "Oh yeah- your 'Bambi' seems to have a real knack for attracting little forest creatures, but he threatened to kill me if I told you too much. And I kind of believed him. So you'll just have to wait and see for yourself."
Peter did not look particularly comforted by this, but he gave a slow nod anyway.
"Good! Now we can cross 'bad attitudes' off the list," Remus said cheerily, striking the line with a flourish. "Which problem shall we tackle next?"
Immediately, Sirius said, "Snape."
"I'm not really sure that there is anything to do for that one. Nothing has really changed- other than him getting careless. He still hates us. All of the Slytherins do. What else is new?" James replied apathetically.
"Harry is what is new," Remus answered. "Even if we didn't mean to, we made him a target by association. And unfortunately, you two do look a lot alike, James. So unless one of you wants to dye your hair or shave your head, we do need a plan to keep him safe. And Harry said it himself the other day- you need to be careful too. We all do."
Sirius leaned forward. "It might be time to officially implement protocol 'two-four, good buddy'. Though, perhaps its new, modified version should be called something like, 'two/three-five, good buddy'," he grinned.
"So, no one goes anywhere alone?" James clarified.
"At least until things calm down again, yeah. I think it's the best we can do for now…" Sirius said with a shrug.
"Okay- so that takes care of 'Snape' then. Which just leaves 'Harry' and 'the full moon'," Remus pushed on.
"Well," Sirius began, relaxing back into his bean bag, "when you think about it, really, we've got a 'furry little problem' and a 'black-haired, green-eyed little problem' that each cannot find out about one another."
"Moony will not be in danger of finding out about Harry," Remus growled, "because you lot would not be stupid enough to let him follow you into the forrest." It was not a question. The others paled just the slightest bit at his tone, but all nodded quickly. "Then the question is really how we make it so Harry is not suspicious when all of his dorm mates disappear for the night?" He said in his normal voice, much to everyone's relief. Remus could be quite scary when he wanted to be. Thank Merlin he didn't usually want to be.
"We could drug him?" Offered Peter. "A little sleeping potion and we just wait until he falls asleep and sneak out."
"Absolutely not." Snapped James. "If he figured out what we did, he would never trust us again. He should feel safe in his own dorm," he said firmly.
"Well, what if we just waited for him to fall asleep and then sneaked out?" Peter tried again.
"What about Bambi reads 'heavy sleeper'?" Sirius asked with a note of incredulity. "I'm not risking everything on your grace and the prayer that he will not hear us and sleeps through the night."
"So, what's your great suggestion then?" He bit back. Looking from Sirius to James, it was obvious that they did not have one. All eyes turned to Remus then.
"I don't know why you are looking at me- I have my excuse. You know I am alway 'sick' around a full moon. Drop a few sniffles here, let out a cough or two there and then excuse myself to the hospital wing for the night," he said a bit smuggly, glad for this to actually be their problem for once.
"Actually," Sirius said, "that's not a bad idea."
"You don't think it will seem a little suspicious if we all catch a cold at the exact same time?" James said with a roll of his eyes.
"Not a cold- he would think the plague had come. But maybe something like food poisoning? Then you wouldn't even need to 'catch the sniffles' Moony! We'd all go down together," Sirius was smiling, already picturing it. "We'd head up to the dorm after dinner, complaining of a stomach ache, throw in a couple of moans, someone pretends to puke and then we will have our excuse! We'll just hide out while Remus heads to the hospital wing and then meet you like usual. We'll sneak back in the same way, saying that we got released early in the morning, but that it hit Remi a little harder, so he had to stay an extra day. It's perfect!" Sirius was looking very self satisfied.
The others had to admit that it actually was a pretty good plan. Would they be facing the exact same problem in another month? Yes. But that was a problem for future them.
"Well, okay then. It's settled," Remus said, crossing the last two things off of their list. "Any other problems that need to be discussed?"
"Yeah," James said with a smirk, "Padfoot's snoring has gotten out of control. I know you are supposed to let sleeping dogs lie, but I'm going to have to start taking action if we can't come up with a better solution than me hexing him every time he wakes me up…"
"Hey Harry-" Sirius sat up, "what's your favorite food?"
It was Sunday night and the boys were playing Gobstones in their dormitory. Thankfully, things had not been too awkward after Harry had been released from the hospital wing on Saturday. Sirius seemed to be doing a good job at 'getting over it' and Peter was at least keeping any negative feelings to himself. And Harry seemed to be doing shockingly well considering that he had been rather viciously attacked just a few days prior, falling back into a casual routine. He was currently laying flat on his stomach, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he lined up his next shot. At Sirius' sudden question, he looked up, a bit confused.
"Wha- um, treacle tart, I guess," he said distractedly before returning to aiming his gobstone.
"What's your least favorite?" Sirius asked.
Harry took his shot before propping his head up on his now free hand. "Uhh, probably string beans. Why?"
Sirius just shrugged, "I don't know- just curious, I guess. What's your favorite color?"
"What, are we playing twenty questions?" Harry asked with a little laugh.
"We are now!" Sirius' eyes lit up. "So, what's your favorite color?"
"Uh, probably red."
"Ha! A true Gryffindor! Now, that was three, right? Hmm…"
"Wait a minute- if you lot are asking me things, I get twenty questions too," Harry protested as he sat up.
"I guess that's fair," Sirius conceded.
A satisfied looking Harry then asked, "So, what are your favorite foods?"
"No- you have to pick someone specific to ask," Sirius told him.
"That's not fair! You all get to ask me questions, why can't I ask you all ones in return?"
"We have to share our twenty, so you have to ask just one person. Them's the rules, Bambi." Sirius said with a smirk.
Harry pouted, but then clarified, "James- what's your favorite food?"
James smiled, "A proper English Breakfast. I strongly feel that no morning is complete without bangers and beans." After a pause, he asked, "What's your favorite animal?"
"Deer," Harry said without thinking. The moment he realized what he had said, he flushed. Not only at the implications of admitting this with Prongs right there in the room, but he had also just encouraged Sirius and his 'Bambi' obsession. "Erh- Remus- what's your favorite subject?" He said hastily, trying to gloss over his answer. Harry did not miss the surreptitious wink Sirius shot at James.
"Transfiguration, I think. What's your favorite book?"
"Um, I- uh- I don't know…" Harry said cautiously. He knew the answer, of course, but he honestly wasn't sure if it had been published yet and he really didn't want to go raising even more questions than this activity had already invited in. So he decided to fall back on his tried and true answer, "I don't really remember any specific books beyond our course texts and I wouldn't really want to claim any of those as my 'favorite book'."
"We get our question back then, if you don't remember the answer." Sirius declared.
"Hey- it's not my fault that-"
But Sirius cut him off, "I'm not saying it's your fault. I'm just saying, those are the rules."
Harry grumbled something about the rules seeming to be 'made up on the spot' as they suit Sirius' needs.
"Do you like blokes?" Sirius asked suddenly.
"Erh- I don't think so," Harry answered honestly, caught quite off guard. He had only ever really liked Ginny and Cho, but he had never really thought about guys… And it's hard to claim that you don't like something you've never tried… "Do you?" He asked, finding himself intensely curious now that the other boy had brought it up. Dating was never really something he had discussed with his godfather.
James laughed and answered for him- "Pads likes anything with a heartbeat." He smiled wickedly at his friend, clapping him on the back. Sirius did not look like he had an ounce of shame at this proclamation made on his behalf.
"He's just jealous that I can see a whole world of possibilities while he is stuck pining after the unattainable apple of his eye."
Plucking up his courage, Harry asked, "James- why do you like Lily so much?"
James' look grew wistful, "She's perfect, mate. She's so smart and witty and she doesn't take shit from anyone and her eyes burn with passion when she talks and her Stinging hex will knock you on your arse if you're not careful."
"Hey- that was two in a row!" Sirius protested.
"Yeah, but you started with three before I even knew we were playing, so technically I'm still one behind," Harry said, sticking his tongue out childishly at Sirius.
"Fine- catch up then."
Turning to Peter, Harry asked, "Why do they call you 'Wormtail'?" He was just curious what they would say and felt like he needed to ask something of Peter so that it was not so obvious that he really did not want to know any more about the boy.
Peter looked a little panicked at the question, so Sirius jumped in to save him. "As the one who gave him the nickname, I can answer that. You see, our dear friend Peter here, despite being a Gryffindor, is not the bravest soul. We, as a group, have been accused from time to time of being, shall we say, 'troublemakers'. Wormtail here has a certain knack for being able to worm his way out of sticky situations- or else, turning tail and running. While it helps him stay out of more detentions than the rest of us, it is this tendency of his that earned him the moniker, Wormtail."
Harry had to admit that that was a very well crafted lie. Kudos to Sirius. He wondered if this was perhaps a prepared cover story they had created should anyone pick up on and inquire about the groups' odd nicknames or if the madman had just made it up on the spot. Either way, it was a good job.
Peter took the question directed at him as his invitation to ask one of his own. "How did you get that scar?"
Harry's hand instinctively shot up to his forehead, fingering the lightning bolt before attempting to smooth his unruly fringe down over it as his face fell. "I don't remember," he mumbled as his gaze turned towards his lap- though not quite fast enough for the others to miss the brief, haunted look there. Harry's eyes were downcast, so he missed the glare that all three other boys threw at Peter.
"S-sorry," Peter squeaked- though who he was apologizing to was unclear.
"It's alright," Harry said, eyes trained on the abandoned game of gobstones in the middle of the floor. "Do you mind if we pick this back up later? I'm kind of tired…" He looked up to catch the other's nods and he quickly pulled himself to his feet. "Thanks."
As Harry disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for bed, Sirius leaned over and thumped Peter on the back of the head. "Way to go- we finally get him to say more than three words about himself and you go buggin' him out!"
Peter threw his hands up in defense. "Geez- no need to give me the hairy eyeball. I'm sorry. I just- wasn't thinking."
"Well, please try to use that thing on your shoulders outside of mealtimes, Pete," Remus recommended.
"Okay. Okay. I just forgot he can't remember shit! Take a chill pill."
"That's not the point," Remus snapped. "How many scars do you think are associated with good memories? Huh? It would have been an inappropriate question regardless."
"Oh," Peter said, looking genuinely remorseful now, "I guess you're right."
Remus could be heard muttering 'tactless' as he turned to get ready for bed as well.
The following week passed in a blur of homework, well wishes, and searching looks from the Slytherins. Apparently this new development of Harry turning out to be a Parselmouth threw them for quite a loop and they were now being forced to reassess the newest Gryffindor. Snape seemed to be outright avoiding him, but Harry caught the boy giving him a curious look during Defense Against the Dark Arts class when he thought no one was looking. He locked eyes with the young Severus for an instant before returning his focus to Professor Fortin. Although the exchange was brief, it served its purpose. Snape now knew for certain that Harry knew exactly what had happened in that hallway, but for some reason, had not turned him in- or at least, not yet. Let him stew, Harry thought. Snape had put him through enough that a little bit of mind games was the least he deserved.
The following Tuesday was the night of the full moon. At dinner, Sirius made a point of rubbing the string bean casserole in Harry's face, mockingly offering him some before taking a generous portion for himself. The others followed suit with a laugh. Harry just rolled his eyes and grumbled into his plate. As they were leaving the hall, Sirius made a point of letting out a groan with a hand on his stomach complaining loudly that he must have eaten too much.
Back in the dorms, Harry did his best to keep himself from laughing as the others began to lay it on thick. Of course, he knew what they were doing- he was aware of what time of the month it was. Remus had been looking peaky all day, though the others had been doing their best to cover for him. James and Sirius had been particularly loud and obnoxious, allowing the other boy to sort of fade into the background. Harry found the display quite heartwarming to watch and did his part to laugh and play along.
As the boys laid sprawled around the room, all complaining of a stomach ache or 'not feeling very good', Sirius finally put in, "Maybe something was off at dinner?" Now, never in their six years at Hogwarts had the house elves ever put out anything that was less than spectacular, but they were banking on the new kid not knowing that.
"Maybe it was the string beans," Harry teased with a satisfied smirk. "I feel fine." Sirius just rolled his eyes, plastering a grimace on his face as he curled up a little more on his bed.
Just as Harry was about to make the helpful suggestion that maybe they should go to the hospital wing, James suddenly shot up and made a B-line for the bathroom, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth. Harry was actually genuinely concerned for a moment as he could have sworn he heard the faint sounds of retching coming through the door. But then he caught himself, remembering that it was all a ploy and his concern shifted to admiration. They were displaying a real dedication to their task. While the boys could have just mumbled something about not feeling well and then ditched him, instead they were going through all of the (slightly embarrassing) trouble of putting on a real show, just for his benefit. It was kind of touching in a weird sort of way.
As James came stumbling back out of the bathroom, he paused, leaning on the doorframe. His face looked sweaty and he was breathing a little hard.
"Maybe we should go see Madam Pomfrey," Peter suggested with a slight look of disgust.
James gave a shaky nod and Sirius just let out another groan.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry asked. While he knew that they were trying to get rid of him, he also did not want to come off like a jerk. "I feel fine, but you lot look like death warmed over."
"Nah, that's okay," James told him. "We know how much you hate the hospital wing. We can make it. I'm sure Pomfrey will have us right as rain in no time." His eyes jerked from Peter over to Sirius as he went to gather the pale looking Remus from where he was perched at his desk. Peter scurried over and 'helped' Sirius up, dragging him to his feet and out of the room.
"Feel better!" Harry called after them as they left. Once the door clicked closed and he heard their footsteps clop down the stairs to the common room, Harry burst out laughing. He wondered what they were going to do next month- they had really set the bar for themselves.
Harry stayed up late that night, watching as the moon rose. It was huge and glowed an eerie red against the clear, black sky. No stars were out, adding to the ominous atmosphere. Just after midnight, Harry heard a faint howling from deep within the forest and a smile crept onto his lips.
That weekend the long-awaited quidditch tryouts were finally upon them. Peter had once again let Harry borrow his broom. Harry felt extremely awkward accepting it, but he couldn't really think of a valid reason not to. It was loads better than the ancient school brooms- though, all of the brooms of this time wilted in comparison to his Firebolt back home- so he begrudgingly accepted the offer after everyone's insistence that it was 'really fine' and 'not a big deal'.
So Harry found himself back down on the quidditch pitch, borrowed broom in hand surrounded by thirteen other young hopefuls ready to have a go at making the house team. Beth stood in the center of the pitch with an intimidating glare on her face as if she was daring them all to disappoint her. Harry distantly wondered if there was something specific about the quidditch captainship that made people go over-the-top intense nutty or if perhaps it was just people who already fit the bill who became captains. And what did that say about him? He pondered, since he had just been made team captain back in his own time. While Harry was as passionate about quidditch as the next player, he never quite likened himself to an Oliver Wood-type when it came to his level of fervor for the game. Did that mean he would not make a very good captain?
Harry dragged himself out of his spiral with a shake of his head, turning his attention instead to the others gathered around the pitch. Of course, he was standing with James and Sirius and Milli was there - they were the remaining former members of the team, along with Beth. Looking around, Harry noted a lot of younger years had come out. He did not recognize most of the faces other than vaguely noting a few he had seen in passing in the common room or in the Great Hall. There were two 2nd year boys that seemed to be convincing one another that being here was a good idea as they stood huddled together off to one side. He would guess that of the remaining students, there were three 3rd years and then another four 4th and 5th years respectively. Seeing as how the current team already consisted of mostly 6th years, Harry was not all that surprised not to see any others there, and he assumed that any 7th years would have already tried out before this year if they had any interest in being on the team.
"All right! Settle down!" Beth shouted at them. "As you know, it is my policy that everyone tries out every year for every position. I will not have a weak team because people are skating by on reputation or haven't bothered to try something new." Her fierce eyes lingered on Harry's fellow 6th years, though they did not seem at all bothered by Beth's harsh words. "We will start with some flying drills so that I can get a general sense of your competency on a broom before moving into position-specific evaluations. Do not bother to tell me what position you want- I do not care. If you want to be a seeker but I think you will make a better keeper, then you are welcome to turn down the position. I will not tolerate any whining or complaints. You are welcome to leave at any time. Being a member of this team is a privilege and you will act accordingly."
Harry saw the two 2nd years gulp at Beth's speech, but then harden their resolves. There was no turning back now as Beth instructed them all to mount their brooms and they kicked off. As always, Harry relished the feel of the wind rushing past his face and whipping through his hair. He could feel a goofy smile on his face, but he could not bring himself to care. Flying was amazing.
Beth's sharp voice drew his attention back to the task at hand. She led them through a series of maneuverability drills, then tested their speed, and even had them perform a faint with one of the goal posts. This was much safer than doing one against the ground as you could always lean to the side at the last second if you lost your nerve or were too late to deflect up or down properly.
Harry heard someone gasp when he performed his, as he got so close he could have reached out and touched the post as he flicked down at the last possible second and skimmed his way down the goalpost and then did the same daring move against the ground before coming back to the starting position having made a full loop. He was met with a lot of startled faces and James was staring at him with wide eyes. Sirius clapped him on the back.
"Not so sure I want you on the team anymore Bambi if you're going to be giving Jamesy here a heart attack everytime you get near a broom!"
Harry's goofy grin just returned to his face. This was very fun.
From there, they moved into some passing drills and then played a little three-on-three. Beth kept rotating the teams so that almost everyone got a chance to play with almost everyone else at one point or another. Once again, Harry did not make a complete fool of himself, managing to keep hold of the quaffle when it was in his possession and using his speed and agility to dodge and outmaneuver the opposing chasers. He was by far no means the best of those trying out, but he was also nowhere near the worst, so Harry counted that as a win.
Then they moved on to keeper drills- which was basically Beth and James taking shots and everyone having a go at defending the goals. Milli really was a fantastic keeper- probably the best Harry had ever seen play not at a professional level. She was so fast that she seemed to be in front of all three goalposts at once and she made it all look effortless. Harry, along with many of the younger students trying out, suffered from a lack of reach and therefore was only able to save fewer half of the shots taken. For him, the key was predicting where the shot was going so that he had enough time to get there, but James and Beth were both very good at their jobs and were not obvious about where they were aiming and even threw in a few fakes.
After he had had his turn, he traded places with one of the 3rd years. The boy looked so nervous that Harry couldn't help but try and reassure him.
"Hey- you've got this. I make a pretty pants keeper, so you'll look pretty good in comparison," he told the other boy with a small smile. He did not return it, but he seemed maybe a tiny bit more confident as he took up the position. The boy actually ended up doing a fair job. He was nowhere near Milli's level, but it was a respectable showing.
Next came the beaters portion that was actually two-fold. Beth split them up into two groups and gave the first group beater bats. They were essentially playing dodge-bludger, where the half without bats were set to a passing drill while those with bats were trying their best to knock them off of their brooms. It let Beth see not only the potential beaters' abilities, but also allowed her to observe how the rest of them function under pressure- and if they can properly dodge a bludger.
Beater was by far Harry's least favorite position on the team. Don't get him wrong- he loved Fred and Goerge (and Sirius), but it took a certain amount of chaotic crazy to enjoy the position which Harry just distinctly lacked. On top of that, he also lacked the appropriate mass and upper body strength to properly whack a flying bludger. He did his best to remain as far away from the bloody things as possible- if he was ever close enough to one to hit it, he had already done something wrong. Particularly after the incident in his second year, they just made him a little nervous.
But Harry was not one to shy away from a challenge- even if it made him slightly uncomfortable. So, he strapped the bat to his wrist and joined the others. Among the 'beaters' it was kind of a hectic free-for-all with bats swinging madly and bludgers whistling past- seemingly in all directions. He managed to get at least one solid hit in, but his wrist protested loudly as the bat made contact and it left him shaking his hand out rather than seeing if his shot reached its target. Thankfully, the two groups switched positions soon and while Harry would also prefer not to fly through what basically amounted to a bludger shooting gallery, he was just happy to be back doing something he at least knew he could do properly. Seekers were common targets for beaters, so he had had plenty of practice at dodging.
As they ran through the passing drill, Harry's focus was split between the quaffle and avoiding the bludgers. There were multiple quaffles being passed and a lot going on, so Harry almost missed it as the frightened 3rd year from before leaned just a little too far out of the path of a bludger and toppled off his broom. The broom shot towards Harry, who had been flying right next to the boy. On instinct, Harry caught the broom as it came at his face and then leaned flat on his own, darting forward with his arm outstretched to grasp the falling boy. Harry just managed to grab his wrist when a shrill whistle pierced the mayhem of the drill and everybody stopped what they were doing and froze.
Unfortunately, bludgers do not abide by the same commands as people, so even though the drill had stopped, the bludgers were still on the loose. A faint whistling sound and the prickle on the back of his neck was the only warning Harry got as one of the budgers pelted towards him and the boy. He could tell it was coming in low- aiming not at him, but at the 3rd year he was desperately holding onto. Without wasting time on thought, Harry's legs released their hold on his broom and he rolled, pulling with all of his might on the other boy, yanking him up, as he threw himself off of the other side of his broom. He prayed the kid had enough sense to hold on once he was atop the broom because Harry had fully let go. As he fell, he forced the other boy's broom down between his legs and took off, leading the bludger away before rolling- still firmly seated on the broom this time- and letting the bludger tear past him.
"Secure the bludgers!" Beth shouted. "Then return to the ground."
Harry flew back over to the boy who still had a white-knuckled deathgrip on his broom. Well, at least he held on, Harry thought. "Hey- are you okay?" He asked with concern.
There was a moment where it seemed like the boy had not heard him, his terrified face still frozen. Then he blinked, looked at Harry and said, "Th-thank you."
"No worries, mate. Why don't we get you to the ground?" Harry pulled up beside him and helped him sit properly on the broom. Then Harry put a gentle hand on the other boy's back, guiding him forward and down until they landed safely in the grass.
Beth was not far behind. "Are you two okay?" She asked worriedly, stepping up to look them over thoroughly.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I think he's just a little shaken up." He hadn't taken his steadying hand off of the other boy's back. "Hey, what's your name by the way?"
"Matthew," he said in a small voice.
"Well, it's nice to officially meet you, Matthew. Though, I wish the circumstances were a little more pleasant," Harry said with a smile.
The others were starting to land now- Harry assumed that meant that the bludgers had been chased down and secured. The other 3rd years ran up and started checking on Matthew, pulling him away into their group.
Then Sirius ran up to him and Beth. "Merlin! Harry! I was joking before, but- shit- you are taking years off of all of our lives the way you fly," Sirius said.
Harry's expression turned a little pained at his comment, but he said, "What, would you rather I have let him fall?"
"No- of course not! It's just- fuck." Sirius let out a heavy breath. James and Milli joined them.
"I've never seen anything like that before," Milli regarded Harry, looking impressed.
"Yeah- um- sorry. I just kind of- reacted- when I saw him fall," he said a little sheepishly.
"There he goes- apologizing for being bloody brilliant again!" Sirius scoffed. Harry just ducked his head further.
Beth's calm voice drew his attention back up, "Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" He looked at her sinceer eyes and gave a reassuring nod. In truth, his wrist was really hurting now not only from hitting the bludger, but he had used the same arm to grab Matthew. But he was not about to let that get in the way of tryouts and getting a little more flying time.
"Alright," she said, getting everyone's attention once again. "We still have seeker drills to run. Usually, I would make everyone stay and participate, but given today's- excitement- I will give you all the option to leave or stay. If you choose to leave, you will still be considered for all other positions except for seeker, but if you wish to be seeker, you must stay. Your choice will not affect my decision beyond that." She paused here, waiting for everyone to make their decision. In the end, most people opted to leave and either headed back toward the castle or went and joined the other spectators in the stands.
Only Milli, James, Sirius, Harry, and one 3rd, 4th, and 5th year remained. Beth continued, "Very well. This will actually be a lot easier with fewer people. First, we will do some catching exercises and then we'll have a couple rounds with an actual snitch. Let's get back in the air!"
They all took turns playing the 'seeker' while Beth threw what looked like steel gray muggle golf balls at them. Harry found it to be an interesting exercise since his right wrist hurt, he was favoring that arm, leading him to make far more catches with his left, nondominant hand. It was actually very good training and he was considering how he could incorporate a similar drill into his own practice routine. Despite this complication, Harry did not miss a single catch.
Once everyone had had their turn, Beth released two snitches and set them all loose to catch them. Unlike when he had been playing with Peter, James, and Sirius, there was no teasing or mucking about- Harry was deadly focused now. His spot as seeker on the Gryffindor quidditch team was something he deeply cherished. Having lost it the previous year and being forced to come to grips with the idea of a lifetime ban courtesy of Umbitch, Harry had a whole new understanding of just how important it was to him. Even if he only remained in this time through tryouts, he did not want to risk not earning his spot back.
It only took five minutes before Harry first caught sight of one of the snitches. It was dancing down near the base of one of the stands about halfway down the pitch from his current position. The only problem was that there were six other 'seekers' to contend with trying to get the snitch before him, not just the usual one. Three of them were currently positioned between Harry and the snitch. Very casually, Harry pulled himself around, carefully keeping an eye on the snitch while also doing his best to still look like he was avidly searching for it. Once he was officially the closest by a significant margin, he took off after the little fluttering ball and had it in his grasp in a matter of seconds. Most of the others did not even realize he had caught it until he flew over and handed it back to Beth.
The second snitch was a bit more elusive. There were a couple of false alarms, like when one of the others caught sight of the glint of a spectator's watch which resulted in everyone pelting towards the poor kid and scaring the crap out of him. Harry had seen that what had caught their eye was a shiny, but non-snitch item and just sat back and laughed as the other six gave the poor boy a heart attack. After another twenty minutes, Harry saw the actual snitch. The damn thing was zipping around in crazy circles right in the center of the pitch, which meant that everyone soon saw it. They all converged on the little ball and it swiftly darted away as they all gave chase. It turned into essentially a race and Harry laid flat on his broomstick to keep up with the snitch. The ball swooped and dove and did a full one-eighty at one point, causing half the group to fall out of pursuit in order to stay on their brooms. Then, it was just Harry, James, and the 4th year girl who were all neck-in-neck just a meter behind the snitch. Finally, Harry saw his opening as the snitch flitted suddenly to the right. He pushed up and did a kind of barrel roll over the 4th year who let out a surprised yelp as she ducked out of his way, reaching his hand out to close painfully around the snitch as he righted himself.
With a satisfied smirk, he slowly pulled around and deposited the second snitch with Beth.
Harry turned and stuck his tongue out at Sirius, taunting,"Suck it, I am an amazing seeker!"
Sirius put his hand up in surrender, "No arguments here!"
"Right," Beth said. "I think that should do it for tryouts." After they all landed, she added, "I'll post the final team roster tomorrow."
The next day, when the boys made their way down to the common room, they found a small crowd gathered around the notice board. Sirius had no qualms with elbowing his way to the front to see what everyone was looking at. He let out a whoop once he saw.
"James! Harry! We all made it! Not that I had any doubt," he said, turning around and flashing the crowd with a suave grin.
They made way so that Harry and James could actually see the roster. It read:
Chasers: Beth Grismond, James Potter, Leila McDermit
Beaters: Sirius Black, Reggie Gurdis
Keeper: Mildred Hawthorne
Seeker: Harry Doe
Alternates: Doriene Just, Jamie Williams, Matthew Krich
Harry grinned.
The next month passed with a certain ease that Harry had never quite experienced at Hogwarts before. He had always loved his time in the old castle and even if it had not always been easy, it had always been certainly better than the alternative. But now, he found himself enveloped in the comfort of routine. He went to class, went to quidditch practice, laughed with the guys, and hung out with his housemates. Yes, the tension was still ever-present with the Slytherins and homework still sucked, but nothing in life is perfect- Harry was all too aware of that- but this seemed to be coming pretty damn close.
His fellow 6th year Gryffindors were turning out to be some of the best people Harry had ever met. Gretta was kind and funny and Milli had a wicked tongue. Haleigh reminded Harry a lot of Neville- she was a wiz at Herbology and she almost always had a brilliant smile on her face that could single-handedly brighten your day. Remus was a lot funnier than Harry ever knew and James was actually really good at transfiguration when Sirius stopped distracting him for longer than two minutes. And they all seemed to have accepted Harry as one of their own. There were no suspicious glances or outright glares, no hesitation around him or avoidance or stares like he had grown so used to over the years of yo-yoing public opinion. It was just so- nice. Harry felt like he could truly relax for maybe the first time he could remember.
They even seemed to be a little protective of him. Well, they were all pretty protective of one another, so he guessed that maybe it came with the territory of acceptance. When the other boys had discovered Harry's hurt wrist the day after quidditch tryouts, they tried to convince him to go to the hospital wing. When Harry had flat out refused, they seemed to have dropped it. Later that day, Harry had found himself whisked away in a crowd of 6th years. He thought they were going to the library to study and spent the journey deep in conversation with Lily and Haleigh about their Herbology essay. Harry looked up when he heard a large door being pushed open, a little confused because the library doors were usually kept open during waking hours. He stopped short when he realized that they were not at the library at all, but rather the hospital wing. His resistance was futile though, as the others behind him kept walking, pushing him forwards into the wing.
Madam Pomfrey looked up from where she was sorting through potions off to the side of the room with a curious expression as the large group entered her infirmary. The crowd seemed to part itself, revealing an embarrassed looking Harry standing at its center.
"Oh, Harry. What happened now?" She asked with just a slight note of exasperation. To be honest, she was just glad he was fully conscious this time and not visibly bleeding.
"It's nothing," he tried to say, but an arm reached out and lightly thumped him on the back of the head. "Erh- I mean, I may have hurt my wrist a little during quidditch tryouts," he tried again.
"Quidditch tryouts were yesterday, young man," she said sternly while also gesturing him over to a bed. "I thought we already had this discussion about hiding things and taking care of yourself."
All he could say was, "Yes ma'am," with his eyes downcast.
"Now, what happened?" She said, putting a hand out for the injured limb.
With a sigh, Harry rolled up his sleeve and offered her his arm. The wrist was a little swollen and there was a nasty bruise on it. If you looked closely enough, you could see where each of Matthew's fingers had curled around his arm.
"Well, it hurt a little after the beater drills- I think I just hit one of the bludgers wrong. But then Matthew fell off his broom and I caught him- I think that's where the bruise came from and when it really started to hurt," he admitted.
"Is that why you made so many left-handed catches?" James asked from off to the side.
"Yeah," Harry said self-consciously.
"Blimey- I thought you were just showing off," Sirius said with a hint of shame.
"You don't need to show off when you're good," Harry replied cheekily.
"Well, it does just look like a nasty sprain," Pomfrey interjected, smearing some bruise balm on the ugly marks. "It should heal up in a few days if you rest it properly." After a few more complicated wand motions and a vile-tasting potion she forced on Harry, she finally splinted the wrist. "You are to check back in on Tuesday after class or sooner if it is giving you any trouble Harry, okay?" She looked him straight in the eye to ensure that he heard her. The matron also took comfort in the rest of his year also being there to hear her instructions. Clearly they had forced him to come, so hopefully they could be entrusted with enforcing his subsequent compliance as well.
"Yes ma'am," Harry said, nodding as he hopped off the bed and hurried back over to the others. "You guys suck," he hissed once he was back in the center of their group.
Lily rolled her eyes, "So sorry we care about you- how dare we!" She gasped dramatically.
James laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Pomfrey's really not so bad, you know. She- we all- just want to make sure you're okay," he said, a faint flush creeping into his cheeks.
Harry found himself rather eagerly awaiting the next full moon. He could not wait to see what the other boys had cooked up for an excuse to all be out of the dorm for the night. After dinner, they convinced him to go 'spelunking' in the castle. Though Harry was pretty sure that they had used that term wrong, he still readily agreed to join in the adventure. They spent the couple of hours before curfew exploring the farthest corners of Hogwarts. For a little while, Harry was kind of afraid their plan was to get him so lost that he wouldn't be able to find his way back to the dormitory before morning and then ditch him.
However, his theory was proven wrong when on their way back towards Gryffindor tower just before curfew, James 'tripped' about halfway down a staircase, falling forward into Sirius, Remus, and Peter. All four tumbled the rest of the way down in a well-coordinated tangle of limbs until they finally came to rest in an untidy heap at the foot of the stairs.
Harry just prayed that this was the plan. "Oh shit! Are you guys okay?!" He gasped, running down the last few steps to meet them.
There was a lot of groaning before James- who had landed on top- popped his head up and mumbled, "I think so…"
"Oi!" Sirius called from the bottom of the pile, "Prongs- get off! Your boney elbows are stabbing me!"
Harry reached out a hand and helped pull James to his feet. Once he was vertical, he yelped, "Ow! My ankle!" And hopped over to lean on the banister.
Remus was next to be extracted from the jumble and he tottered once he was upright, so Harry helped him to sit on the steps behind them. It was Peter after him who had one arm clutched protectively to his chest. Finally, Sirius was revealed at the bottom looking rather disheveled. He braced a hand against his ribs as he sat up, huffing.
"I knew spelunking was dangerous, but really guys…" Harry said with a shake of his head. "We should probably get you lot to the hospital wing," Harry sighed, offering his hand to help Sirius to his feet.
"Really Harry, it's okay," Sirius said as he sucked in a breath.
"No it's not- James can't walk, Peter's arm's obviously hurt, Remus looks like he's about to pass out, and you are holding your ribs like they're gonna fall out if you let go," Harry argued.
"That's not what I meant. We don't share your aversion to our dear Madam Pomfrey. I meant that you don't need to get caught out after curfew. We can see ourselves to the hospital wing."
"Oh," Harry said, remembering that this was all a part of their plan- hopefully. "If you are sure…" Harry's eyes swept over all of them. Peter was pulling James' arm over his shoulders to help him walk and Sirius was stooping down to help Remus up.
"We'll be fine, Bambi," Sirius reassured him. "Go before Filch catches you. We have an excuse to be out- you don't."
And with one last look, Harry gave them a nod and left.
Back in the dorm, Harry was curled up on the windowsill looking down over the grounds. He hoped that their next plan to ditch him didn't almost give him a heart attack. It was very hard to remember it was all a ploy when you are watching your friends take a nasty fall and play injured. He could maybe start to understand what Sirius kept saying about his flying. It was kind of scary to watch, even if, intellectually, you knew everything was going to be okay.
The next Monday was Halloween. The castle was abuzz with excitement about the upcoming feast. Jokes and laughter filled the hallways as sweets were passed out by teachers at the end of their lessons. Those who were raised around muggles found wizarding Halloween to be a most fantastical experience filled with actual ghosts and pumpkins the size of carriages and wonder shown in their eyes. I mean, who doesn't like Halloween?
The answer to that rhetorical question could be found in the 6th year Gryffindor boys dormitory. Harry awoke on Halloween morning with an overwhelming sense of sorrow. Up until then, he had been doing a superlative job at compartmentalizing everything. Separating the people around him from the people he knew and knew of before. But facing the anniversary of his parents death- his parents that he sat across from at the breakfast table that very morning- was just a little too much to ignore. Harry found himself mourning for the lives all around him, soon to be lost.
Having done the math long ago, Harry knew that James and Lily would be dead in five years. Five years. How was that even possible? They were so young and so full of life. They were just kids! Five years ago Harry had fought a Mountain Troll in this very castle (and gained a best friend)- and that felt like yesterday! And in that same amount of time, Peter would come to betray them. Sirius would be chucked in Azkaban. Remus would lose everything. All of those lives, cut short and shattered. Harry shuttered to think about the rest of his friends here. He knew he was not the only orphan made from this war.
Harry barely functioned all day. And he could not look anyone in the eye. Thinking about them all hurt. Seeing them all hurt. Hearing James and Sirius laugh hurt. When Lily leaned over and asked him if he was okay during Charms that afternoon, he thought he was going to cry. The grief was so overwhelming that the moment class ended he sprinted to the nearest restroom in order to pull himself together. It was with a carefully blank face that he made his way to Potions and sat in the farthest back corner, alone.
Harry refused to go to the feast that night, claiming that he was just tired and insisting that the others go and have a good time without him. He just couldn't handle it and he did not want his despair to bring everyone else down. They should be enjoying what little life they have left, he thought mournfully.
Harry took advantage of his time alone and finally allowed himself to cry. He let it out in great, heaving sobs. He had never really mourned his parents because they had just always been- dead. It was what it was. It was not like he ever really knew them. They had always just been a concept to him. 'James and Lily Potter', war heros, parents of the bloody boy-who-lived. Just black hair and green eyes and nothing more. But now they were people- living, breathing, people with hopes and dreams and smiles and love and it was devastating to know that it would all be ripped away so soon. Razed to the ground.
When Harry closed his eyes, all he saw was flashes of green light. All he heard was their terrified voices echoing in his head- now readily identifiable as belonging to the James and Lily he sat next to in class. He curled up in a tight ball as if he could physically hide himself from the pain. But it tore through him regardless.
Eventually, his body ran out of tears and the snot slowly dried in his pillow where he had buried his face. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he should get ready for bed or at least close the hangings, but he simply did not have the energy to move. So he just laid there, curled up on his side with his back to the world staring despondently at the dark wall behind his bed.
At some point, he heard the door creak open as the other four boys returned from the feast. They shuffled around the room and he heard a few low whispers, but he could not bring himself to care.
"Harry- are you awake?" Remus' tentative voice rang through the quiet dormitory.
Too tired to talk, but too drained to lie, Harry let out a small grunt. It was the best he could do.
"Harry, mate, you're- you're kind of scaring us," it was the most unsure Sirius had ever sounded.
Harry's voice came out rough and quiet. "Sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry- just, please, tell us what's wrong," Sirius begged- literally begged.
When no response came, Remus asked, "Are you ill?"
"No," came the raspy voice again. But given his history, they were not very likely to believe him without an alternative explanation. Fuck it. Rubbing his hands roughly over his face, scrubbing at the long-dried teartracks, Harry pulled himself up. He sat with his back against the wall and his legs pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. When he finally looked up, he could see the shocked expression on the other boys' faces as they clearly saw that he had been crying.
They all seemed frozen in place, unsure what to do, but not wanting to do anything that might break the fragile atmosphere that had settled when Harry turned to face them. It was as if Harry were a frightened animal- skittish and likely to blot at the slightest disturbance. And honestly, that was kind of how he felt too.
"I just- remembered something," he spoke quietly with his eyes averted, but they all heard him as if he were shouting in the eerily still room. "My parents-" he let out a small sob, "I think- My parents died on Halloween." There. It was out. Not much harm that the admission could do since he didn't really exist in this time anyway. "I really don't think anyone is looking for me," he added in a small voice and then he completely broke down again. He dropped his head into his arms, folding in on himself even more.
Harry was in awe that his body had found more tears to expel. His gasping sobs were heartwrenching. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a warm hand settle on his back, but once he got over the initial fright, he realized that it felt kind of nice. There was a presence next to him and it radiated a comforting heat. Unconsciously, Harry leaned into it ever so slightly as he cried. And then there was another presence, equally warm, on his other side. No one said anything. This was not a moment that needed words. Everything that needed to be said was felt in the reverberations of Harry's sobs and the steady presence of the four boys gathered around him. Sirius and James on either side and Remus and Peter seated on the floor in front of them. They all stared at the opposite wall just breathing and listening and being present as Harry cried himself to sleep.
When Harry woke the next morning, he was surprised at how warm and comfortable he felt, despite the itchiness of his eyes and on his face. He blinked his eyes open after a minute of just enjoying the feeling only to become aware that he was leaning on something. No, not something- someone. It was Sirius. He had fallen asleep on Sirius. Looking around, he saw James asleep on his other side. And then it all came back to him in a rush and he let out a little gasp. The grief, the tears, the comforting presence. He should have been embarrassed- mortally embarrassed- but there was something inside of him that just felt- good. It was that warm, happy place behind his heart that usually sat empty on cold, lonely nights, but was now overflowing and radiating a heat that seemed to burn away the embarrassment and grief.
"'Arry?" A sleepy voice slurred.
"Yeah?" Harry whispered back, not wanting to wake the others.
"Just checking it was you who was awake…" Sirius hummed.
"I'm sorry about last night," Harry said softly.
That woke Sirius up properly. "Don't be," he said firmly. "Your bed's surprisingly comfortable." Sirius gave the bed a bounce to illustrate his point, jostling James awake.
"Hey-" he protested sleepily.
Harry was very surprised when a few seconds later Remus and Peter's heads then popped up from the floor in front of the bed.
"Good mornin'," Peter greeted with a yawn.
As Remus and Peter slowly pulled themselves to their feet, James scooted off the bed. Sirius clambered his way off too, dragging Harry with him.
"You get first dibs on the bathroom, Bambi- make it count," he said with a teasing smile, pushing Harry off towards it. He stopped just long enough to grab his uniform from his trunk before stiffly shuffling off to shower.
The remaining boys exchanged heavy looks.
Professor McGonagall was startled out of her grading by a hesitant knock on her office door. Looking up, she called out, "Enter." If the knock had startled her, then she was gobsmacked when James Potter and Sirius Black walked in. Pulling herself together, she asked briskly, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, how can I help you?"
The boys shared a nervous glance before Sirius spoke up, "We just- um- thought you should know something. About Harry."
This was now the second time within a month that James was in her office with a matter regarding Harry. "Is Mr. Doe alright?" She asked, a little afraid of the answer.
"Yes," Sirius said. "Well, kind of. Mostly? He's not hurt or anything if that's what you were asking…" he trailed off, bringing a nervous hand up to rub at his neck.
"He just- remembered something," James said. "And kind of had a bit of a breakdown yesterday. He seems to be doing a lot better today. But, he told us that he thought his parents were dead and that that was why no one seems to be looking for him." It all came out in a rush, but McGongagall still caught the words.
"I see," she said slowly, taking care to control her voice. "I assume he did not mention any other facts or details?" The boys both shook their heads. "Well, thank you for letting me know." She paused and then asked, "Would you care for a biscuit?"
Their faces turned from anxious to confused. "What?" James asked.
"A biscuit. Would either of you care for a biscuit?" She said, rattling the tin at them now.
Although they looked a bit skeptical, both boys accepted the offer and picked out a biscuit before taking their leave.
As they walked back to rejoin the others, James could not help but wonder- Had they just been rewarded for being 'good little Gryffindors'? Was this what their Head of House was like when you weren't causing trouble? Like a grandma puttering about with a biscuit tin? Perhaps this other side of McGonagall was worth exploring…
Harry was beyond thankful that the other boys did not make a big deal out of his- erh- breakdown- and did not pester him with questions. Sirius has just pulled him aside once Harry came out of the bathroom and let him know that if he ever wanted to talk or even just sit like they had, that they were they for him. And then they had collectively moved on. Harry's chest felt lighter than it had in a very long time.
That week in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Fortin introduced their next unit- nonverbal spells.
"While I will not require nonverbal spellwork beyond this unit, I will remind you that in a duel, it is a lot harder to defend against an attack you do not hear coming. Verbal spells are also slower to cast. Of course, there is a steep learning curve and your nonverbal spells will be much weaker than your verbal ones at first, but you must remember that this fact will only change with dedicated practice. Once you have mastered a spell nonverbally, it should be just as strong as its verbal counterpart with all of the added benefits of being nonverbal." She said all of this with her usual take-it-or-leave-it-I-could-not-care-less-which-you-choose attitude.
"For the purposes of our unit, we will be focusing on six practical defensive spells: Stinging hex, Tripping jinx, Disarming charm, Stunning spell, Blasting curse, and Shield charm. I expect all of you to be able to perform all of these spells nonverbally by the break. You may also earn extra credit for learning to perform a more difficult spell than those I have assigned nonverbally. The number of points earned will correspond with the level of difficulty of the spell successfully performed." Harry liked the open challenge, already considering the more advanced defensive spells he knew.
Fortin continued the lecture, explaining how nonverbal spells could be approached in two different ways. The more rudimentary, but easier to pick up practice of just saying the incantation in your head- just think expelliarmus instead of saying 'expelliarmus'. This is how most witches and wizards learn and often continue to practice nonverbal spells. However, the proper way to perform a nonverbal spell is to will the intent of the spell, rather than manifest the incantation. While this is a lot trickier to learn, it usually results in more powerful spells and makes performing most spells nonverbally much easier in the long run once the technique is mastered.
The rest of the class was then spent paired up with the students attempting to throw silent Stinging hexes at one another. Everyone's faces were screwed up in intense concentration. Peter was turning a little purple as he seemed to have forgotten to breathe while he attempted to produce the hex. Harry decided to try it the easy way and see how well that worked. Once he knew he could do it, then he would try to perform the spell using the 'proper' technique.
By the end of class, Harry was the only Gryffindor to have successfully cast nonverbally (even if he did it the easy way), but if the yelps from the other side of the room were anything to go by, he was not the only one in the class.
The next morning they had Harry's least favorite class- double Potions with the Slytherins. While Professor Slughorn was a vast improvement over Professor Snape, Harry still found that he just couldn't muster up an ounce of enthusiasm for the subject. Maybe it had been beaten out of him during his years under Snape or maybe it was just not the subject for him, but either way, Harry found himself to be the Neville Longbottom of NEWT Potions. He did not explode quite as many cauldrons, but his reputation was still comparable.
Harry found himself pouring over his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, reading and rereading the instructions for the Wound-Cleaning potion that they were supposed to be making. Harry knew for a fact that the potion was meant to be purple, but for some reason his was a shimmering yellow. And for the life of him, Harry could not figure out why. Taking a moment to rub at his tired eyes before returning to his frantic search for an answer, Harry missed it as Snape paused for a fraction of a second as he walked casually past his station, presumably on his way over to the store cupboards for something. Harry only looked up when he heard his potion let off an ominous hiss. Peering cautiously into the cauldron, Harry gulped. Now, not only was the potion a disgusting shade of yellow instead of bright purple, but it had congealed into a thick, clumpy mess. And it was boiling rather threateningly.
Seeing as how there was absolutely no hope for salvaging the potion now, Harry threw his hand up into the air and called out, "Professor!" in a worried voice, opting for safety over saving face. Only, it was apparently already too late. Just as Slughorn turned towards his wayward student, Harry's cauldron exploded, spewing the chunky mess all over Harry and anyone unfortunate enough to be sitting nearby.
Harry was just thankful that whatever he had accidentally made did not burn when it came into contact with his skin. Carefully using his sleeve to wipe clear his eyes and then his glasses, Harry finally turned sheepishly to face his professor.
At this point, Slughorn just looked disappointed. With a sigh, he waved his wand, but the potion did not vanish as it usually did. "It appears, Mr. Doe, that you have managed to make a spell-resistant brew. A true feat considering what the target potion of today's lesson was," he said, shaking his head. "Detention this evening, to clean up this mess. Everyone who was hit, you are dismissed to go clean up, but please return after dinner to redo your brews. The potion should not be harmful and should come off with a little scrubbing."
Most of the Gryffindor corner of the room started packing up. The others vanished their own now ruined potions with a few grumbles and soon everyone who was dripping in Harry's gloppy mess was trudging their way back up to the tower.
"I'm really sorry guys," Harry said lamely, trying to pull his sticky shirt away from his chest. The way it clung to his skin was giving him the willies.
"Don't worry mate- this one wasn't actually your fault," Sirius told him genially.
"What?" Harry threw him a confused look.
"I'm pretty sure that greasy git Snape tossed something in your cauldron when he walked past, just before it exploded," he said conspiratorially. "Now, I'm not saying your potion was right before that, but I don't think it would have exploded without his help."
"Well that's something, I guess," Harry sighed. "Whatever he added also made it a disgusting texture. This is just vile." Harry shivered as he continued to pull at his shirt.
Thankfully, the others were not nearly as covered in the stuff as Harry was, so at least they did not need to suffer beyond having to remake their potions and maybe change their robes and wash their hair. Harry on the other hand was drenched in it. As they made their way through the halls, Harry started to shiver as the cooling potion sapped the heat from his skin.
When they finally reached their dormitory, Harry did not even wait for the door to close before he started pulling off his clothes, desperate to be rid of the wretched gunk. He shucked his robes, and pawed at his tie until it was loose enough to yank off his offending shirt.
"Merlin!" Sirius gasped.
Harry whipped around. All of the other boys were staring at him with slightly overwide eyes. Harry's own eyes dropped down to the dripping shirt still clutched in his hand. Shit.
"Sorry," Sirius said, clearing his throat, seeming to come back to himself. "That's just- kind of a nast scar you have on your back." He felt that he needed to explain his outburst, but at the same time he didn't actually want to say it outloud. Especially after they had laid into Peter for asking about the scar on Harry's forehead. But shit- the boy's front was almost worse than his back. While the scar stretching across his shoulders was big and ugly, his front was just sort of littered with smaller, disjointed ones that spoke of numerous separate incidents. A large, jagged slash ran across his left collarbone and a thick, deep line cut down his forearm. On his side there was a large burn scar that disappeared down across his hip below his trousers and on his right arm there was a mottled, circular patch that looked like he had been stabbed with something rather large.
Harry just blanched and then blotted for the bathroom- not even stopping to grab a change of clothes. Once the door was shut, Harry found himself leaning heavily against one of the sinks. His breath was coming too fast and shallow and he could feel the irrational panic taking hold. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think.
There was a reason he had been so careful up until now to hide his scars. For one, he knew that they did not look good and that they would raise a lot of questions about his past that he could not answer. He knew Madam Pomfrey must have seen at least one or two of them, but thankfully she had never asked him about them. But it was also different to have them all out on display like that. And that was the other reason- his scars were very personal. They told his story- however fucked up that may be. Almost every one of them came along with a defining moment in his life. And while he did not like to admit it, he had come to terms with the fact that all of that pain made him who he was.
Snapping his eyes open, Harry forced himself to draw in a deep breath. And then another. And another until his breathing could once again pass for normal. Then he just stood there and stared at himself in the mirror.
It was kind of funny, in a twisted sort of way, that his two largest scars had not come from any of the dumb, dangerous, magical shit that had tried to kill him over the years. The scar on his back was from when Dudley had pushed him down- directly onto his Aunt's perfect white-picket fence. To that day, Harry shuddered to think what might have happened had a neighbor not seen him fall and called an ambulance. If he hadn't ended up spending a few days in the hospital, Harry just knew that his relatives would have made him fix the fence that 'he had broken'. Just the mental image of being forced to paint over his own blood made him slightly ill. And the burn on his side happened when he was cooking, but not quite tall enough yet to properly see the stove. He had accidentally spilled a pot of boiling water on himself and been too slow to get out of the way. That scar just had not faded very much with time, unfortunately. The rest, at least, were from more genuine threats. The killing curse, a dragon, a basilisk, a dark ritual, fucking Umbridge. At least they hadn't seen the nasty one on his leg from the acromantula- though, Harry was not really sure if it could have been worse even if they had seen that one too.
But then- what was he really afraid of now that they had seen his scars? That they were going to ask questions? Well, he could just say that he didn't remember how he got them. That they would pity him now? He suspected if they were inclined to do that, they would have started after his breakdown on Halloween- but they hadn't. That they were going to tell someone? 'Harry has scars' isn't exactly actionable intel. Really, it just came down to the vulnerability of it. It was, quite literally to some extent, like being naked in front of them with all of his flaws and weaknesses and mistakes on full display. But what was the worst they could do? Laugh? Mock him? Harry knew that they would never do that. This had nothing to do with them and everything to do with his own insecurity.
Well, fuck that, Harry concluded. It's only going to be as awkward as I make it. I already ran away from them, so strike one for 'not making things awkward'. But I get three strikes, right? So there's still a chance to recover.
After firming his resolve, Harry hopped into the shower and let the warm water melt away the rest of his stress. He stepped out and toweled off, only then realizing that he hadn't actually grabbed a fresh change of clothes before running into the bathroom and, given the nature of his disastrous potion, there was no way to spell the old ones clean.
Deciding to seize the opportunity to not let his inner demons win, Harry wrapped the towel around his waist and headed back out into the dormitory.
As the bathroom door slammed shut behind Harry, the other boys moved as one to form a huddle in the middle of the room.
Sirius, ever the one to break the ice, said, "Well, no wonder he hates the infirmary. He's probably spent half his life in one with that many scars!"
"What do you think happened to him?" Peter asked fearfully.
"A lot," was Remus' dark reply.
Hesitantly, James asked, "Do you remember what he said in that first DADA lesson? 'I don't like to be attacked.' Do you think someone did that to him?"
"At least one of those scars looked too neat to be accidental," Sirius replied, well, seriously. "And he doesn't exactly strike me as 'clumsy'. But how could anyone wanna hurt Bambi?" There was a confused and slightly frightened look in his eyes.
"Do you think-" Remus began haltingly, "that maybe there is a reason he can't remember anything? I can't imagine that whatever caused those scars was something you would want to remember…"
There was silence as Remus' words sank in.
"If you think about it- the way he reacts to certain things- it all kind of makes sense. I mean- remember how he dodged Avery's curses during that duel and how he saved me from that hex in Hogsmeade? Those kinds of instincts are honed with a lot of practice…" James trailed off.
But Sirius picked up the train of thought from there. "And the way he reacted when we said we didn't hate him after the snake incident. It was like he expected us to just toss him away- to hate him," he said guilty.
"And how he didn't seem to care that he had been attacked. He just kept insisting that I needed to be careful," James continued with a sinking feeling. Hearing it all listed out like this was painting a slightly horrifying picture.
"And he's so small," Peter added quietly.
"What?" James asked, thrown by the apparent non sequitur.
"There is probably a reason that he is so small," he said with a little more conviction. "I mean, what other sixteen year old do you know that is that short and scrawny? None of us believed him that first day in the infirmary that he was even our age. He could pass for a firstie if he really wanted to."
"Persecution doesn't stunt your growth," James said, still not following.
So Peter spelled it out, "Yeah, but abuse does." That statement hung in the air for a second. "Or at least, it can," he amended as his eyes darted over to Sirius. Not all abuse left such visible marks.
"Well, what are we supposed to do about all this?!" Sirius said, waving his arms about in an effort to convey the shitshow that seemed to be unfolding around them, sounding slightly panicked.
"I'm not so sure that there is anything to do," Remus stated. "He still doesn't remember most of his past, so we are just operating on theories and leaps of logic. And even if we knew for sure, we shouldn't treat him any differently. At most, we would just want to keep an eye on him and make sure he was doing okay which I honestly think we were already doing anyway. What more should we do?"
The others did not have an answer for that, so they all shrugged and agreed. Keep on, keeping on.
They heard the shower kick on and all jumped at the reminder that Harry was just in the other room. Straightening up, they did their best to look casual and not at all like they had been in a secret huddle while they waited for Harry to reemerge. Nobody wanted to push him after seeing the panicked look on his face as he had rushed away into the bathroom. It was much to everybody's surprise then that Harry strode out of the bathroom some minutes later with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. They all did their best not to stare as he stooped down, rummaging through his trunk for a clean outfit, before rising and heading back into the bathroom to change.
When the door snapped shut again, it was as if the air in the dorm had shifted. Somehow, it felt lighter. No words had been said, but communication had happened nonetheless. Harry had chosen to be comfortable in their shared space and the others had chosen to accept him just as he was. Going forward, everyone was just a little more relaxed.
A/N: For any sticklers who may point out that the scar from Wormtail's knife is actually on Harry's right arm in the books- just know that I know. But I just find it more poetic on his left where it mirror the dark mark on Death Eaters... sue me!