Chapter 9: The Lesser Goods

"Aren't you a little too young to be reading that?"

"Hm?" Harry said distractedly, his mind on the horrifically detailed description of what a person's entrails looked like. From Mr. Lord, not the book. Which was also about entrails.

Harry blinked up at the girl looking down at him, brow cocked and arms full of a stack of books. Medical books, like the one he had in his hand. Harry quickly set the book down on his lap and nervously tugged down his sleeves, making sure none of the bruises were showing.

Mr. Lord gave a purely exaggerated sigh in his head and Harry fought to keep the scowl off his face, saying, "I like it," he shrugged.

"How are you even understanding half the words in it?" the girl asked, setting the books on the table with a loud thump and giving a relieved sigh.

Harry pointed to the open dictionary beside him, and the girl let out a quiet 'ah,' even as she still looked a little skeptical. She selected two books from the stack and plopped down next to him on the floor. Harry started in surprise.

"So, you like reading?" she asked, pushing a strand of brown hair off her face. It was worse than his own, and he absently ran a hand through his black mop before quickly snapping his hand down, Mr. Lord's amusement ringing in his head.

He shrugged, "Not much." Mr. Lord bemoaned that quite a bit, considering how much he loved reading.

"So, you like science?"

"I suppose so, mostly biology though."

"You want to be a doctor?" She seemed awfully interested in him rather than the books she was holding. Harry didn't really mind. He liked it, actually. He still didn't have any friends other than Mr. Lord and she was nice.

"I guess?" Harry frowned, did he? "I'm more interested in healing myself more than anything."

"Oh," she said, "Are you sick?"

'No,' Mr. Lord said, very slowly, 'You're not sick. Either you hide what's happening, or you show it to her. Don't tread a middle ground, Harry.'

She's also a kid, Harry thought back furiously, she can't do anything. And you know what happened the last time someone found out, you were there!

'Right,' Mr. Lord said, drawing the word out. Harry studiously ignored him, turning back to the girl, "No, I'm not. It's just, um, I'm very clumsy and keep getting hurt."

"Right," she nodded very seriously, and Harry barely kept himself from slumping in relief. He tugged his sleeves down again, a nervous habit he was beginning to develop, and froze when he felt a scaly head under his fingers.

"Go back in!" he hissed, as soft as he could make himself without becoming inaudible, but it was too late. The girl had seen the snake. She gasped, and Harry winced, waiting for her to scream, and almost screaming himself in frustration when Mr. Lord gave another exaggerated sigh in his head.

The girl scrambled to her knees, dumping the books hastily– but carefully– to the side and leaning closer to Harry, wide eyes fixed on the snake, which had poked its head out fully and was scenting the air.

"Please don't tell the librarian," Harry said quickly, a little desperate, "She'll kick us out. It's not poisonous, I swear–"

"Venomous," the girl said absently, cutting him off.

"What?" Harry blinked.

"Snakes aren't poisonous, they're venomous. And of course it's not, it's a grass snake, those are not venomous." She leaned, if possible, even further, raising a hand as if to touch the snake.

Snake turned its head away hastily from her, hissing, "I'm cold."

'Smart girl,' Mr. Lord commented idly.

"Right, um," Harry's eyes darted nervously around the room, waiting for the librarian to jump out from behind a bookshelf and yell at him, to throw him out. When nothing of the sort happened, he turned back towards the girl, who was now very gently stroking the snake's head, who seemed to be preening under her touch. "So, you're not telling Mrs. Kole, right?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I won't." She looked up at him, grinning, "Our secret. Does it have a name?"

When Harry didn't reply, Mr. Lord offered helpfully, 'She means the snake.'

"Oh, no. No, it doesn't." Harry frowned, and asked, both to the girl and Mr. Lord, "Should I give it one?"

"Yes!" she said, at the same time as Mr. Lord said, 'I couldn't care less.'

"Well," Harry said, scratching down the snake's spine. "We can name him, I suppose? Would you like that?" He asked the last part directly to the snake, realising too late that what sounded like English to him would sound like hissing to someone who wasn't a parselmouth. Well, at least according to Mr. Lord. It always sounded like English to him.

The girl, however, only looked delighted, and let out a ridiculous hiss at the snake, the way someone meows at cats.

"I don't care, what's she saying?" the snake said, wiggling until most of its body was out of his sleeve and in his hand.

"She wants to name you," Harry said, before looking back up at her. "Also, uh, I don't know your name. I'm Harry."

She looked at him, an embarrassed blush reddening her cheeks, "Sorry, that was rude of me. Hello, Harry, my name's Hermione, Hermione Granger."

"Oh, that's a–"

"Yes, I know it's a mouthful," Hermione said, snappish, before quickly wincing, "Sorry, a lot of people get the pronunciation wrong and then laugh about it. Like it's my fault."

"I think it's a pretty name," Harry offered awkwardly. It was a mouthful, but with Mr. Lord teaching him those weird latin spells, it wasn't really hard to pronounce it. She grinned at him, and Harry noticed that one of her front teeth were missing.

"Thank you," she said, "Your snake should have a pretty name too."

Harry looked down at it, who was hissing furiously at Hermione to resume her stroking. Rather than telling her to do so, Harry took over, making the snake let out something almost like a purr. It had gotten bigger since Harry had found it, able to wrap completely around his wrist, and once around a finger too.

"Yeah, it should," he agreed, "Any ideas?" The question was for both Hermione and Mr. Lord.

Hermione immediately starts listing off names, "Coco? Pepper? Erin? Vee? Noodle?"

Harry let out a startled laugh, and hissed at the snake, who replied indignantly, "I'm not food. I eat food."

"I don't think it likes the name Noodle very much," Harry told Hermione, as seriously as he could. The snake was now half out of his hands and into Hermione's, who looked positively gleeful about it. Mr. Lord just hummed in his head when Harry asked about other name ideas.

"Ooh," Hermione said suddenly, "What about Eve?"

Harry blinked down at the snake, who was muzzling at her palm, as Mr. Lord started laughing in his head.


Harry was late home that day, and didn't get any dinner. It didn't bother him though, he'd had fun with Hermione, talking about snakes and anatomy until her parents came to pick her up. She didn't live around here, actually lived quite far away, according to Mr. Lord when she told him the name of her city, but Harry still hoped he'd meet her again some day.

He didn't manage to finish the book he was reading, but he did make a friend.

Besides, no dinner was practically routine now. Even if he'd been on time, Aunt Petunia would have somehow found another reason to deny food. And, well, after the first few days spent terrified of stealing again, Mr. Lord had given him quite a huge lecture about pulling himself together. He still flushed a little thinking about it.

He hadn't been caught again. It did help that Aunt Petunia didn't seem to remember what exactly had made her angry, so they didn't know what to look out for. He'd also stolen more money. He'd heard his aunt and uncle talk about it too, but they hadn't suspected him.

Being young had its advantages, Mr. Lord had said. Harry didn't quite get it. The Dursleys hated him all the same, no matter his age.

Harry climbed up the stairs to his room, making sure Eve was hidden properly in his sleeve. He hadn't been caught with either the snake or the bird yet, and he didn't have any intention of being caught in the future either.

His room was the same as always, and Harry was grateful that no one ever really came into it. He still hid all the stuff as best he could, but he knew that none of the Dursleys would ever lower themselves enough to actually snoop around.

There was a small chirp as his bird came flying out of her hidden perch under the table and landed on his head, her little feet tugging at his hair. Harry grinned, reaching up to drag a finger over her, stroking as she preened and chirped again.

He knew Mr. Lord had told him she didn't have a soul, but he couldn't help but love her. A pretty pretty creature, dead or not. And Hermione had made him want to give her a name too.

But despite all the names Hermione had spouted off, Harry still didn't really have one for her. He asked Mr. Lord, who was infuriatingly nonchalant about it.

"Just look at her, Harry, you'll come up with something."

So Harry did, having her hop onto his fingers as he stared at her. He sat on his bed, legs crossed under him, and thought about what made her different. Well, she didn't have a heartbeat, for one. It was magical, and her green eyes.

Green like his own except the shade was a little off, too dark, too marble-y, compared to Harry's grassy colour.

Mr. Lord hummed, "The coloured part of the eyes is called iris."

"Right," Harry said, a little absent mindedly. Once Harry had shown an iota of interest in proper healing. Mr. Lord was always onto him about learning proper anatomy if he wanted to do proper healing. Always giving him random bits of information when Harry wasn't reading about it himself.

"Iris, that's also a flower," Harry murmured, before his eyes widened. "Oooh, it's a pretty word, right?"

"Sure, Harry."

That didn't sound enthusiastic, but Harry would take what he could get. He nodded firmly, and spoke to the bird, "Your name is Iris, now."

The bird chirped back and started nibbling on his finger.


Arabella liked Harry. And she respected Professor Dumblefore.

These two things shouldn't have conflicted with each other as much as they did.

She knew she wasn't the only one keeping an eye on the wizarding world's saviour, that Albus, while he trusted her, would not leave something as important as this in the hands of a squib. She had also known not to expect Harry to be truly happy with the Dursleys.

She didn't understand Albus, and considering some of the decisions he made, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Sometimes she'd see bruises on Harry, small things you could attribute to roughhousing with friends, except Harry didn't have any friends. Except for that snake of his, which he'd sworn her to secrecy about.

She'd see the bruises and think, does Albus need to be informed about this?

She respected Albus, and did not want to find out what he'd do if she did tell him. She wasn't quite sure anyway, the Dursleys were impeccable. If one didn't look too closely. And Albus already knew they weren't the best for Harry mentally and emotionally. She understood the need, she understood the greater good.

And then there was that one incident with Child Protective Services. Which didn't get anywhere. So perhaps her suspicions were for nothing. Maybe.

She stared at Harry, sitting on her rickety dining table, his legs swinging under him as he hissed to his snake– named Eve, for some inexplicable reason– and thought about the terror wrought by You-Know-Who, the last known parselmouth.

She thought about the fickle nature of the wizarding world, and how, even though she respected Albus, she sometimes did not trust him.

She thought about the little blackbird she'd seen following Harry around sometimes, and she thought about the way he'd flinched from her, once. She thought about the look Albus would get, sometimes. Cold, calculating. The person who'd been through two wars as a leader, ruthless and intelligent.

Kindness is something very few can afford during a war. Albus was not one of those people.

Arabella sighed, tired of it all. Her very bones felt heavy, and the sheer joy of You-Know-Who's defeat had long soured into something like pity.

Harry beamed at her, one hand buried in Buttercup's orange fur as he scratched her, and thought about how the Dursleys had taken their son to an amusement park today.

She knew all about the greater good. Being in the Order had made sure of that. She knew about it and she could respect the concept. She also had seen enough to know that it wasn't infallible.

That sometimes if you sacrificed all the smaller goods for the greater, then your greater good wasn't that great at all.

She smiled at Harry, told him that Eve was a beautiful name, and her jar of floo powder remained untouched for yet another day.


A/N: I engage in maidenless behavior and thus shall follow no update schedule.