A/N: There seems to have been some glitchiness when I uploaded this- took it down and reuploading just to be safe. Apologies if you got two email alerts!
Thank you for the lovely reviews, all! I'm going to try my best to have the next chapter polished and ready to go up as soon as possible.
To answer some questions- Hermione will absolutely be part of the story eventually, though it may take a bit of time. She will absolutely be a major character eventually, especially as Harry interacts more and more with the other houses- but I won't share too much at risk of spoiling things! I do plan on covering more than Harry's first year, so this won't be the only fic in the series. Thanks Dark Angelx1992 for these great questions, and to everyone else for their kind words and for continuing to read the fic.
Chapter Ten: It's Not a Meeting
Glorious.
It was really the only way to describe it. Harry soared through the air, barely remembering to breathe, yet capable of performing a corkscrew over one of the castle's lower ramparts. He steadied himself, then shot up higher, circling around one of the towers, before shooting down into a dive. He pulled out a little sooner than he needed to, not because he didn't trust himself to do it successfully, but because he didn't want Higgs moaning at him for risking life and limb. It made no difference, though; Higgs was already approaching with crossed arms and an equally cross look before Harry even got off the broom.
"You realize if Snape saw you doing that on my broomstick he wouldn't just have your head, he'd have mine as well?"
Harry just grinned sheepishly, too overcome with the joy of flying to pay much heed to the threatening words, and handed the sixth year his broom back.
"You do that again, Potter, and I'm not letting you fly for a month. For two months," Higgs said. "You know I'm on track to be considered for Head Boy next year, don't you? I can't have any scandals."
Harry would normally have to bite back his laughter at Higgs' concept of what construed a scandal, but the notion of losing his chance to fly for two months (two whole months!) was much more frightening than the idea of falling off a broom. It was nearly as frightening as being caught by Snape diving recklessly- nearly.
"All right," he said quickly. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise. Your broom is the best."
Higgs studied his Comet 260 fondly, unable to hide his affection, but he shook his head all the same and said, "It's up there, but what I wouldn't do for a Nimbus..." He let out a small sigh. "Ah, well. I suppose it's better than one of those Shooting Stars, isn't it?"
Harry made a face. Over the past couple of months, the first years had several more flying lessons (significantly more subdued than the first), and now that Harry knew what a good broom felt like it was torture to use those ones, which felt more like someone's idea of a practical joke. Even considering how rubbish they were, it didn't stop the wait list to borrow one of Madam Hooch's from being astronomically long. Harry valued his brief chances to ride Higgs' broom (or whoever else would lend him one) more than anything.
"Good luck at the first match," Harry finally said, jealous that Higgs got to keep a broom like this all the time. He wished he could have a Comet 260 and be Slytherin Seeker, even if the likelihood of Snape granting such a request was about as likely as him revealing he was an expert clog dancer.
"Thanks," Higgs said, smiling slightly. "We'll do our best, and crush Gryffindor like we always do."
Harry smiled as well, then started to turn back to the castle. Higgs cleared his throat.
"Forgetting something?"
Harry grimaced and turned back. "Really?"
"We had a deal," Higgs said, his hand outstretched, waiting. "I let you fly my broom, and you..."
Harry reluctantly stuffed a hand into his cloak pocket and pulled out three wrapped Chocolate Frogs and two Cauldron Cakes, which Higgs accepted happily.
"You're a sixth year," Harry grumbled as Higgs tucked his broom under one arm, unwrapped a Chocolate Frog with his other hand, and headed off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. "First years like sweets more than sixth years."
"Everyone likes sweets," Higgs called over his shoulder. "Aren't you coming to watch us practice?"
Harry shook his head. Normally he sat in the stands for every Slytherin practice he could possibly attend, and before that for every team, which had ended predictably poorly, with Ron Weasley's older brothers chasing him off while shouting about him being a Slytherin spy. Which, to be fair, he probably would have reported everything he saw back to the Slytherin team (it was just common sense), but the main reason he was there in the first place only was to watch them fly.
Higgs paused. "Come now, don't sulk. It's a fair trade."
"I can't today. Thanks for letting me borrow your broom, though." Harry shot Higgs a quick smile to show he wasn't upset and started back toward the castle.
Darkness was falling earlier and earlier, as were temperatures. Harry wrapped his cloak around himself more tightly around himself against the November air as he reached the castle steps. It was still early evening, but Harry knew Professor Snape would have something to say if he stayed outside any later than he was now on his own.
The Entrance Hall was almost empty, save for a few Hufflepuffs heading toward a door just off the Great Hall. He'd learned from a few of the older Slytherins that the Hufflepuff common room was also underground, but not in the dungeons, though they refused to tell him more than that, saying it was up to him and his fellow first years to figure it out on their own, just as they had. Harry could see the Hufflepuffs descend a narrow staircase just before the door swung shut and filed this information away for future reference, wishing he had the time to follow them now, but the Hospital Wing wouldn't be open for visitors for much longer.
He climbed the stairs to the first landing and continued on, reaching the Hospital Wing before long. He hadn't been able to visit Neville yesterday, not with classes and homework filling up all his time, and Snape kept the Slytherins busy Saturday mornings with chores around the common room. It was well after dinner now, however, and as Harry entered the bed-filled room, he cleared his throat as respectfully as possible.
Madam Pomfrey's head shot up and her eyes narrowed. "Are you ill?"
"Sorry?"
"Your throat. Are you ill? Is it another case of the flu? It's coming earlier and earlier each year, I swear..." The nurse strode over and placed a hand against Harry's forehead before giving him an accusatory glance. "You don't feel warm."
"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey. I don't have the flu, I promise," Harry said quickly. "I was just wondering if I could see Neville."
"Longbottom? I released him just ten minutes ago. Foolish, reckless child- It's a miracle he wasn't killed-"
Harry didn't stick around to hear more about Madam Pomfrey's thoughts on the troll incident, instead hurrying out of the Hospital Wing with a hurried thanks and rushing toward the nearest staircase. Neville had once mentioned to him that the Gryffindor common room was on the seventh floor, and he made it up several flights of stairs before spotting Neville, who was moving much more slowly than Harry's full-on sprint.
"Neville!" Harry called out, slowing down considerably but continuing to hurry over.
Neville turned, startled for a moment, his right temple covered with an enormous bandage, then his face broke out into a surprised smile. "Harry!"
"Are you all right?"
No one knew for sure what had happened in the girls' restroom, but by the time the news made its way to the Slytherin first years it had taken on an almost otherworldly status. Apparently Hermione Granger had been trapped, alone, cornered by the troll, when Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom burst in, using spells and hexes even fourth years would struggle with. By the time it was over they'd beaten the troll within an inch of its life and had it groveling on its knees, begging for mercy.
"It was nothing like that," Neville said, once he'd managed to stop laughing. "Not even close."
"So what did happen?" Harry asked, shifting on the bench they'd found outside of an unused classroom in an empty corridor.
"Not much. Ron did most of it. He used Wingardium Leviosa on its club and knocked it out. I just distracted it."
"How?" Harry asked, riveted, barely able to imagine timid Neville of all people facing down a mountain troll.
Neville shifted uncomfortably. "It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does! You fought a troll! And lived! The whole school is talking about it!"
Neville winced at this, but it was enough to prod him into continuing. "It really wasn't much. It was... It was going to hurt Ron. So I yelled and I ran at it, but then I got scared. I should have done something, anything, but... I froze. That's when it hit me with its club," he said, gesturing at the bandage on his forehead. "Madam Pomfrey says it can come off on Monday. It wasn't a really bad blow. Ron was able to pull me out of the way. But... I was useless."
"You weren't useless," Harry said, imagining himself in the same situation. "I'd probably have done the same thing. It was a troll. And... well, you still charged at it to begin with, didn't you? That was pretty brave."
"Not brave enough," Neville said, almost to himself. "Not like..."
"Like who? Ron?" Harry asked, and Neville blinked, surprised. "Well, if not him, then who?"
"It doesn't matter," Neville replied, then sighed. "It was awful. I... I wet myself a little."
"Well... I would have too," Harry lied.
Neville's cheeks flushed and he looked at Harry quickly. "Please don't tell-"
"I won't."
"Really, please don't say-"
"I won't, Neville. I promise." Harry held out a hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Neville shook it. "What did Professor McGonagall do when she found out?"
"Took five points from Gryffindor." Neville tilted his head slightly, then added, "And then she gave us ten points for beating the troll. And ten more points for me risking my life. I'm not really sure if she was angry or not." He paused. "Professor Snape was, though."
Harry couldn't imagine Snape awarding him points if he'd been in Neville's place. Harry thought of exactly what Snape would have done, and he shuddered at the very thought.
"I'm glad you're all right," he said at last. "And I'm sorry I didn't visit you sooner."
"Thanks for visiting me now," Neville said, with a small smile. After a moment's pause, he added, "I'm heading back to the common room now. Would... Maybe you'd like to come by?"
Harry thought this over, and about the reception Neville had received in the Slytherin common room when he'd come to visit. "I'd like to, I really would. But... maybe another time."
"You don't have to. Really," Neville said quickly, his cheeks flushing once again.
"No, it's not-" Harry had to think for a moment to find the right words. "You're going to be a hero when you get there, and if I'm with you it'll distract from that. Enjoy being a hero this time. I can come another night."
Neville gave him an odd look at these words, and as they rose to their feet he said, "I'm not a hero."
"Sure you are. You saved Hermione."
"No, I didn't. She's brilliant. She would have saved herself, even if Ron and I hadn't shown up. And even if I did save her..." Neville shook his head. "I'm not a hero."
"Why not?"
Neville didn't answer this, instead just giving Harry an awkward smile and saying, "Thanks for checking in on me. See you soon?"
"Yeah. See you soon," Harry replied, letting it drop and heading back downstairs to the dungeons.
It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, the kind that comes with the late days of autumn before the snow arrives but well into the days of crisp, cold air. Harry scurried down one of the dungeon corridors, coming to a halt in front of a tapestry of Chiron the Centaur. He checked both ways to make sure no one was coming, then pushed it aside to reveal a small doorway, just narrow enough for a person the slip through, that opened into a tiny room, barren of any furnishings beyond a few threadbare cushions Blaise had pilfered from the laundry room.
It wasn't really a room they'd discovered, not precisely, probably something more akin to a cupboard, but it was at least larger than Harry's cupboard back home. The fact that it was hidden behind a tapestry gave it a sense of privacy, and they'd only discovered it during a game of hide and seek the week before. It had quickly become a clubhouse of sorts, or at least a place of their own where the older students couldn't demand anything from them. Here no one would leave them with only bloody pick-up-sticks at night because all the good games were taken, or force them to move over on the couch because they were younger, and that wasn't just because there weren't any games or a couch here.
Tracey was there already, with a candle to illuminate the otherwise dark space. Harry held the tip of his candle against the flame of hers, and flopped onto a nearby cushion.
"Hi, Tracey."
"Hi, Harry."
The inclusion of girls in their space had been a fiery debate, split right down the middle. On one hand, if this was to be a place for the first years to escape discrimination from the older students, shouldn't they include all first years, or risk being just as discriminatory as those they were attempting to separate themselves from? On the other hand... girls. They were girls.
The matter was resolved somewhat simply, namely by their argument in the corridor outside Potions class growing a bit too heated, and their voices rising just enough for Millicent to overhear everything, including the existence of their hiding spot. She promptly proceeded to inform them that if they couldn't decide, she would make the choice for them, and she'd make it now. And thus, girls were allowed.
Harry, who had been somewhat in the 'boys only' camp, couldn't help but admit the four girls in their year weren't all that terrible, though the space became horribly cramped when everyone was present. Tracey leaned against the stone wall behind her and asked, "Did anyone follow you?"
"Of course not." Harry glanced around the small room, and wondered how they would furnish it without anyone noticing. "Did anyone follow you?"
"Don't be daft. Of course not."
Harry leaned against the wall behind him as well, and before long the rest of the year was squeezing their way into the tiny space. To call it a tight fit would be an understatement; Harry found himself nearly crushed between Vincent and Millicent, but they somehow managed.
"Shift over, would you?" Draco, who was on the other side of Millicent, snapped.
"There's no room," she snapped right back. "You try it."
"There'd be more room if there weren't four girls here," Draco shot back, and was immediately hit with both Daphne and Pansy's cushions. He quickly grabbed them and stuffed them underneath himself in addition to his own cushion, but the two girls immediately darted forward to pull them back before he could sit.
After a brief struggle, in which Harry received an inadvertent elbow to the ear, the pillows were returned to their rightful places, and Blaise cleared his throat. "I'd like to bring this meeting to order."
"Who said it was a meeting?" Tracey called out, as Greg added, "I thought we were just escaping the second years."
"And since when do you get to call meetings?" Harry chimed in. "We don't have a leader."
"I get to call meetings because I risked being caught when I stole the cushions," Blaise said quickly, as though he hadn't just thought of this on the spot. "And it's not a meeting. And I'm not the leader."
Mass agreement met this last sentence, and Blaise quickly shushed everyone. "Do you want to blow our cover? If someone hears us, our secret spot will be ruined."
"Some secret spot," Pansy mumbled as she pulled her legs in further against her chest.
"If you don't like it, you can leave," Blaise reminded her, then fell silent. "Anyway, I don't actually have anything to say."
"Well done," Pansy replied. "Very insightful."
"Well, I have something to say," Vincent said before chaos could ensue once more. He started to rise to his feet but quickly gave up as everyone around him protested at being shifted around in the already extremely cramped quarters. "I've found a way for us to duel."
Once more, chaos ensued.
"Like hell you have!"
"Have you really?"
"He hasn't- have you?"
"Are you boys still on about that bloody dueling thing?"
"Oh, hush, you were just as excited as we were at the last meeting, Tracey!"
"I thought these weren't meetings!"
"Quiet!" Vincent said, then clapped his hands together. "I've figured it out. I really have. And no, they're not meetings, Tracey."
Harry couldn't help but be intrigued. It wasn't that he thought he'd be an expect dueler- he barely knew ten spells, if that many- but he'd been just as swept up as the rest of the Slytherin first years by Vincent and Greg's insistence they could figure out a plan if they just tried hard enough. It wasn't so much the idea of dueling as it was getting to test their magic on their own, without restrictions, without Snape's litany of rules. Plus, the idea of sneaking around at night with a group of friends, having an adventure... it was an impossible dream, but pleasant to indulge, especially considering Harry hadn't ever had friends to indulge fantasies with until now.
"How?" he asked, glancing up at Vincent. "It's impossible. Snape always knows what we're doing. He probably knows we're here now."
"I admitted last week that I cheated on Sprout's exam while we were here, and nothing happened," Vincent said. "And Draco, you told us about filching Brocklehurst's sweets from her mum and you didn't get caught either."
"I did too," Draco muttered under his breath, "But only because she went and told Professor Flitwick, and he told Professor Snape." To the immediate barrage of questions, he waved a hand and said, "All I'll say is it wasn't worth it. Just like it isn't worth getting caught sneaking to the trophy room at night."
"That's just it," Vincent said quickly. "It isn't the trophy room. Of course we'd get caught if we did it in the trophy room, but not somewhere more subtle."
"And you found somewhere more subtle?" Draco asked doubtfully.
Vincent nodded. "I found a classroom. An old classroom. It's in a corridor near the trophy room on the third floor that's hidden. Not that corridor," he said quickly, before he could be drowned out by protests. "I'm not that stupid. It's not in the forbidden corridor."
"Every corridor is forbidden at night," Pansy reminded him, but she was just as intrigued as everyone else. "But go on."
"There's a false wall," Vincent went on. "I found it when I was scouting out the trophy room again and Filch turned up. I ran for it and I thought he had me cornered- but I leaned against the wall and it moved. You have to lean on it at just the right angle, but it lets you out into this tiny little corridor with two old classrooms in it. Filch must not know about it, because I managed to slip through and shift it back just in time before he came all the way up the corridor. He paused for a moment, then moved on. He doesn't know."
Everyone glanced at one another. Millicent cleared her throat, and though her tone was doubtful, her eyes were gleaming with possibilities. "How would we get there in the middle of the night? The Baron will tell Snape if he sees us, you know that."
"Why does it even have to be at night?" Theo spoke up. "Why risk that trouble when we could just sneak away some Sunday afternoon?"
"Because duels take place at night," Vincent said, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world, just as Harry said, "Because duels take time, especially if we all get a turn, and Snape will notice we're missing."
"How would you know how long duels take, Muggle boy?" Draco asked, to which Harry just rolled his eyes. Draco's insults didn't quite have the meanness behind them they had at the start of the school year these days. "And if he'd notice we're gone, why doesn't he notice we're here now?"
"Because we never stay here longer than half an hour at a time," Harry shot back. "Do you really think we'd all have a chance to get there, duel, and get back in half an hour? All of us?"
"Not all of us. I'm not going," Daphne spoke up. "Sorry, boys. I won't tattle, but I'm not risking my hide either."
Discourse immediately erupted from all parties, and after a moment of frenzied back-and-forth Harry managed to gain control of the situation. "All right- all right. No one has to go if they don't want to. If we even go. We still don't know how to get past the Baron."
"He has a pattern," Blaise spoke up. "You've never noticed? He loops around the dorms, then spends some time in the common room, then wanders the dungeons, then does it again. If we leave at ten, pause in the common room for ten minutes, then go straight for the Entrance Hall we should be fine."
"How do you know that?" Harry asked.
"That's for me to know and you to find out," Blaise said, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
It was foolish, stupid, ridiculous, even. Until now the idea of sneaking out to duel had been a half-baked fantasy, and maybe it still was one, but suddenly... it seemed possible. Harry breathed deeply, imagining creeping through the corridors late at night, surrounded by comrades, pulling one over on Snape...
"If you're interested, raise your hand," Millicent finally said. "If you aren't, keep it down."
All the first year Slytherin boys raised their hands, as did Millicent and Pansy. Daphne kept her hand down, while Tracey wavered, starting to raise her hand, then ultimately lowering it.
"I'm sorry," she said, staring at her lap. "I want to. But..."
"That's all right," Millicent said firmly. "Really. If you don't want to, you don't have to. But you can't tell anyone."
"Who put you in charge of the meeting?" Blaise mumbled, almost to himself, as Tracey said with conviction, "I won't. I wouldn't ever."
"No one is in charge," Millicent snapped back, as Pansy said, "I thought it wasn't a meeting."
"You have to promise," Draco said, leaning forward as best he could without elbowing Millicent and Theo on either side. "Both of you. Daphne, Tracey, you have to promise you won't tell."
"We won't," both said at the same time, but Draco's frown didn't lessen.
"You need to really promise. You need to make an Unbreakable Vow."
Everyone stared at him, including Harry, who had no idea what an Unbreakable Vow was.
"What's that?" he asked, as Greg asked, "You know how to make one of those?"
"What's it sound like, scar boy?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes. "It's an Unbreakable Vow. If you break it, you die."
"And you know how to make one of those?" Greg asked again.
Draco paused. "Well, not really. Not properly. I don't know how to make it bind. But I know the words."
"So... a promise, then," Millicent said as slowly as possible.
"Put out your hands," Draco said, ignoring her. "Both of you."
Tracey and Daphne stuck out both their hands, and Draco waved his wand over their palms. Closing his eyes, and in a deep voice very unlike his own, he rumbled, "Oh, great and powerful Unbreakable Vow! Say your promise, and say it now! But keep in mind, as my wand waves- If you break your word, you will enter your graves."
"I don't think that's the Unbreakable Vow," Pansy said. Draco shushed her.
"I promise I won't tell Professor Snape or anyone else if you sneak out to duel," Tracey said, once she'd thought about it for a long moment and taken a deep breath. After an equally long moment and an equally deep breath, Daphne said the same.
"There! That's settled, then," Draco said proudly.
"It wasn't a real Unbreakable Vow," Millicent reminded Daphne impatiently, the latter of whom was nearly shaking.
"I know," Daphne said, then paused. "How do we know for sure, though?"
"It's definitely the real words. My parents use it with me all the time," Draco said with a shrug. "Whether it worked or not... I don't know. I am getting better at magic now that I'm at Hogwarts..."
He trailed off. Tracey and Daphne both looked at him, terrified. Millicent gave him an odd look and said, "Your parents use the Unbreakable Vow on you?"
"Of course they do," Draco said blankly. "All the time."
"I really don't think those are the actual words," Pansy said again. She was ignored.
"Are we really doing this, then?" Harry asked. Doubts were already beginning to creep in his mind, but they'd come this far- it almost seemed equally as terrible to not go through with something that might be the greatest experience of their lives as it was to risk Snape's wrath. And if they were caught, his wrath would be considerable. And yet...
The secret club fell silent, and Harry knew the answer was yes. They were doing it.
