See the end for Author's Notes.

Chapter Thirteen

As was turning into the case whenever Vince decided to say something that completely turned Harry's world upside down, the conversation in the library was never mentioned again. Harry felt the strangest sense of deja vu and wondered if every important conversation with the Crabbe heir would be like this? First the world domination talk in first year then he all but sworn allegiance to Harry as Heir Slytherin and still radio silence. ('I wonder what reality-altering conversation we will have next year...' he thought to himself while watching the boy for any outward revelation of his thoughts.)

((There was none.))

"You've been distracted all week," Draco scolded him on their way to Defense.

Harry, in all of his brilliance, miscounted the number of counterclockwise stirs to stabilize their potion and they had lost a size four brass cauldron because of it. Professor Snape had been quite descriptive in the ways he found Harry lacking. Only his tight grip on the unsheathed blade they used for dicing had kept Harry from responding. (But even now the blood still soaked the piece of his scarf he had used to wrap his hand. The winter robes made it easy for him to hide his injured hand but he knew he'd have to get Madame Pomfrey to heal it before long.)

((He also made a mental note to learn some medical spells. Adults tend to frown at injuries and messes. Several times the muggle school nurse complained to the Dursleys about his bruises and cuts and Uncle Vernon had turned purple.))

"Sorry," Harry answered, his gaze still fixed upon Vince.

Was he supposed to approach Vince again or act as if nothing had changed? Really, nothing had changed but Harry was kind of being run spare this term what with his father's over protectiveness, Snape's general dour mood, Zabini's overbearing nosiness, and now that the metaphorical cat was out of the bag with Vince it only made Harry more tense-- especially after the crying session he had. (Which was in its own realm of embarrassing that only made him more concerned to show such levels of weakness to a housemate. Even allies could betray you if they saw enough gain for them in doing so.) "Wotcher Harrison!"

Harry groaned at the arm that slung across his shoulder. "Helena my name is Harry. We've been over this."

The sixth year girl just leveled him with a beaming grin. "So it's come to my attention that I have the honor of escorting you little terrors back to the dungeons after Lockhart makes a fool of himself. Lucky me, eh?"

"Nott's been harping on about you escorting us for the last few days," Draco frowned. "How have you only just been notified?"

She waved her hand about, as if finding the question unimportant. "I've more pressing concerns than who's babysitting you lot."

"Babies are we?" Harry arched an eyebrow. "I'll remember that next time you want help in Herbology."

In retaliation, Helena jabbed him in the side with the arm not placed over his shoulders. She had kept her claws long and sharp as always and the attack was a tad more painful than it had any right to be. Harry's own ultimatum of growing his claws in a similar fashion had been met with mixed results. While he had finally broken the habit of biting or picking on them he found that he was always getting dirt caught under them and he wasn't yet at the point of asking Draco or Queenie about those specific set of grooming charms to fix this issue. He had made a mental note to ask Lady Malfoy but always got sidetracked whenever he visited the posh Malfoy Manor. "Just because you're brilliant at herbology," Helena cut off his train of thought, "doesn't mean you're the only one I can ask. Don't get too cocky there Harold."

He ducked from out of her hold and sent her a smirk. "Cocky am I? I suppose I'll keep the supplemental notes on the similarities and differences between the snargaluff, venomous tentacula, and devil's snare to myself then, shall I?"

Helena's smile strained along the edges and Harry knew he had made his point. While she was a sixth year and training for NEWTS, Helena Dodderidge was absolute pants at Herbology. Harry, being the undisputed best at it out of the Slytherins and a particular favorite of Professor Sprout, was often begged for notes from the surrounding years. Helena had offered a trade of information last term that had been serving them both well. She would tutor him in upper year spell casting if he provided extra notes and research to her year's curriculum in preparation for her NEWTS. Seeing as she wanted to be an Unspeakable-- the only NEWT requirements more difficult than becoming an Auror-- she needed an O in her Herbology NEWT and had told Harry that he was her best bet on achieving that grade.

He had been skeptical initially on the veracity of that statement but he was already studying ahead in most of his classes and getting the extra help in NEWT level spell casting was not a boon he could so quickly ignore. "Don't be cruel," Helena frowned. "I've heard the venomous tentacula in greenhouse three likes to grope the girls."

Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn't an apology but it also wasn't an escalation which was pretty much the same thing when it came to upper years. "You can have it after classes if you want. I need some help with destruction curses."

Helena arched an eyebrow but shrugged in acquiescence. "Cheers, Harrison," she called as a farewell before disappearing in the crowd of students once more.

"I still don't understand how you've gotten Devil Dodderidge to like you so much," Draco muttered under his breath as he came up to Harry with Vince and Goyle in tow.

Harry shrugged but inwardly he was a bit smug. It wasn't an easy feat for an underclassman to get a sponsor from the upper years. That Harry had two notable ones from two different years made him quite formidable in their political games. It allowed him to not be so active in the word plays and little barbs that was commonly traded amongst the lower years to exhibit superiority over one another. (Although that safety net was being a might less effective thanks to their head of houses' machinations...) "It's because he's so pretty," Goyle said.

This had the other three blanch at him incredulously. There were many things to describe a twelve year old boy. Pretty was not one of them. It was Goyle's turn to shrug. "I listen. The older girls talk a lot, you know. Isadora Perkins says that he's like a porcelain doll and Agnes Loughty calls him 'adorable'."

Both revelations had Harry's cheeks flushing in indignation. Rugged was an acceptable description. Handsome was an acceptable description. Hades, he'd take mundane, or unassuming as a descriptive for himself. But pretty?! "Girls are loathsome," he decided. "And I shall never marry one."

Vince and Goyle started laughing gaining the passing glances of a few students as they continued down the corridor. Draco was displeased if his frown was anything to go by. "Aren't you a little too old to use the 'girls will give you the dreaded lurgi' resolve?"

"I don't claim they're contagious," Harry corrected his ally. "I just cannot abide by their mannerisms. They're already terrors by themselves but when they group together there is no hope for us of the opposite sex and I find myself too often at their mercies when they do."

Memories of last year when Queenie had first claimed him as her sponsee brought up a few more horrifying memories. Nothing scarring, but plenty that made him feel as if he was missing something vitally important in the conversations that were spoken over his head (literally, in most cases as he had been several inches shorter than even the smallest third year girl). No, he was not going to marry right out of Hogwarts, the common practice for any well-to-do Heir Apparent. And if it turned out that women were always like this, he was going to wash his hands of this marrying business entirely. Formal alliances could take their place if negotiated well enough anyway. "And if it is decided you have to marry?" Vince asked.

"Being Heir Apparent of a house with no current head allows me quite a bit of a say in who I choose to pass my family name onto."

"But some paths you go down might require it of you," Vince pointed out, his stare especially penetrating. "It has been known to be a more publicly acceptable way of gathering a following than outright conquering. Such a method was utilized heavily in the sixties and seventies."

Harry finally caught onto Vince's meaning. When his father's campaign had first kicked off, it was common for Dark families to intermarry with one another to keep their allies close and the dissemination of favor from the Dark Lord even closer. It was how the Malfoy, Lestrange, and Rozier families had joined with the Black household. It wasn't unreasonable to expect the man to bring back that practice now that he was in need of strong and well-connected allies. Harry scowled at the older boy for pointing that out. "I will cross that bridge when I get to it," he said, effectively ending that string of conversation.

It was stupid that the first time Vincent had used his knowledge of the Dark Lord siring Harry as a threat to make him marry an insufferable woman simply for her familial connections. Harry was the heir of Voldemort for Merlin's sake! He had more use to his father than as a cheap ploy to gain the favor of some middling house and the very insinuation of otherwise kind of irritated him.

Thankfully, Goyle changed topics before Harry's downturned mood could infect the group as a whole. "Anyone want to place bets on what Lockhart will be up to today in class?"

This resulted in a chorus of groans and snorts not only from their group but from those surrounding them, including Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas. "If he gives us one more pop quiz about which outfit he wore while saving some damsel in distress I think I'll obliviate myself," Thomas swore to the agreement of all the surrounding males.

Granger, notably being not male and not in the immediate surrounding, disagreed. "Professor Lockhart is an esteemed wizard that has spent his entire post-Hogwarts career dedicated to the opposition and education of how to deal with dark creatures that other, less experienced, witches and wizards might find themselves--"

"You're quoting his author's biography," Zabini pointed out, interrupting what was sure to be an extended quotation if Granger's history at regurgitating books was anything to go by.

The gryffindor flushed and turned away in a complete and utter huff to continue down the corridor and into the classroom. Harry couldn't say he was surprised but he had hoped Hermione Granger would be immune to the whimsical nature of their inept Defense professor. He supposed he should have expected the girl would indiscriminately put her faith in any published work (even one's as horribly pointless and meandering as Holiday with Hags).

This was further proof to validate his claim on not marrying right out of Hogwarts. If someone as down-to-earth and knowledgeable as Hermione Granger could be fooled then Harry wanted to avoid marrying one entirely. Idolization of questionable adults aside, she was a rather bemusing character to interact with. Harry had been entertaining ideas on forming an acquaintance with her ever since he learned the definite roles of the differing relationships. (Pursuing an alliance with a Muggleborn before their OWL year would not be met favorably with the other tentative alliances he had in the works even with Hermione being top of their class academically speaking. Furthermore, she was a bit of a know-it-all.)

Still, Harry couldn't help but find himself hoping to procure her as an acquaintance at the very least. Although there was no political influence to be gained from allying himself with her nor respect from the kind of crowd his father was sure to court once he made his return common knowledge, Harry saw gain for himself. Hermione Granger was smart and a wealth of knowledge. Furthermore she had the tenacity and dedication to pursue what would ordinarily be outside of her capabilities thus expanding her limits and surpassing them. She would be invaluable as an ally.

"Settle down everyone," Lockhart called as he strutted out of his office and posed in front of his desk. "I have a unique learning experience planned for this day's curriculum."

Today Gilderoy Lockhart was in lilac robes gilded in gold-- probably as to not clash garishly with his golden locks and tanner skin tone. An unfortunate side effect of going shopping with Lady Malfoy (and spending any extensive amount of time with Draco outside of school) was that Harry became almost obsessively aware of wizarding fashion trends and what they signified. Which made it more disturbing that no one else commented that despite how inept Lockhart's words made him seem, his attire (although flamboyant) was akin to having a castle cloaked around him. The material and charms that his robes tended to be made out of were top notch and could probably deflect most basic hexes and curses. Although Harry could hardly believe the man had the skill to do everything his books proclaimed, there was no doubt the man had been involved with some nasty business in his travels.

"Today we will be going over one of my more recent adventures depicted in 'Year with a Yeti' where in the highest reaches of the Himalayan mountain range-- after I'd rescued a village on the brink of total destruction at the hand of a fearsome for-- I discovered a cave system--"

Harry zoned out of what was sure to be yet another soliloquy. Despite what his attire said about him, Gilderoy Lockhart was still a complete pillock when he waxed poetic about his own greatness (of which Harry saw very little). He was thankful that they were left to read some passage or another from one of his stupid books and write an evaluating snyopsis (less so when he was paired with Granger rather than Vincent, but it was still amenable). Granger even deigned to relocate to the seat next to Harry rather than try to wave him down.

Of course she couldn't remain silent and actually do the project though... "You know they think you've done it, right?"

Harry glanced up from his faux reading to see Granger focused on him. It had been quite a while since they've spoken-- not since Sir Nicholas' Death Day soiree-- and it was about time they had their little tête-à-tête. "What am I being accused of? Being a dastardly Slytherin leaves me so little free time in between my plots to sow mayhem and chaos."

She arched an unimpressed eyebrow but continued on. Harry was inwardly pleased by Hermione Granger's unflappable nature. It could serve her well if he were to ally with her as she was sure to see more adversity than even now when he did. 'At least I know she can take it,' he thought as her words washed over him.

"The other Gryffindors. They think you're the one causing the petrifications."

Harry wasn't surprised. His own house had the same suspicions but were much more apt at researching its validity. So far, no one had found any connections as there wasn't one for them to discover. No one knew who Harry's father was. (Except maybe the Headmaster but Harry had yet to confirm or deny that.) "And what do you think?" he asked.

Granger narrowed her eyes. "I'm not sure. But something doesn't make sense about all of this. Most people would hate to be vilified for something so serious-- you could get expelled or worse, close the entire school at this rate. Yet you've only denied being responsible for the petrifiations that first time and following that just let everyone say what they would."

Harry shrugged. He thought they'd gotten past this-- her insistence that he was the root of all nefarious deeds that occurred-- but it seemed Hermione Granger was rather tenacious. 'One step forward, two steps back,' he thought with a sigh. At least he didn't have to worry about forming an alliance this year.

"What are you trying to say Granger?"

"You're not resigned to it-- that would indicate a level of reluctance that I haven't seen, but you're no less accepting as being branded the Heir of Slytherin."

Harry shivered. Ever since Vince's proclamation, he had begun calling Harry by that title whenever alone and each time Harry felt powerful. Like he was truly his father's son. When he looked back at the Gryffindor, her gaze was sharp and focused. Evaluating. "There's something about you Harry Potter."

Harry flinched at his last name and she narrowed her eyes once more. "Something," she repeated.

Harry wanted to curse. Unflappable was one thing and tenacious another, but this studiousness of hers was a problem. Granger was far too clever for her own good. The gryffindor proved just how much so when her eyes snapped to him in the next instant. "What did you hear in the corridor on Halloween?"

A flash of panic rushed across his face. It was gone in an instant, but she had been looking for such a show of emotion and seized hold of it like a viper. "I know you heard something. You ran off with Malfoy and Crabbe chasing you up the stairwell. I was right behind you when you left Sir Nicolas' party."

Harry was stuck in a conundrum. He could tell Hermione what he had heard and although he'd sound like a raving lunatic, she was likely to help him discover the origin of the strange voice. On the other hand, it had something to do with his father, and she was a muggleborn and a Gryffindor. Neither would do her any favors if she wasn't properly educated against stereotypes and biases that cropped up in that house. (The same biases and useless propaganda that populated any 'reliable' source of information about his father's reign.) But to correct her assumptions would be to ally himself with her...

Just thinking of what Draco had to say about that was enough to cause a headache. The blond had quite a bit yet to learn about his own misconceptions before Harry branched out his pool of allies (although he was pretty sure that the reason why he detested Granger so much was because she was smarter than him). There would be time enough to form an alliance with Hermione Granger in the years to come and as long as he wasn't antagonistic to her in the meantime, it shouldn't be too difficult if he ever decided to use her.

His mind made up, his thoughts calmed and he gave her a picture perfect innocently confused expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about.

"Granger seems to be a bit upset with you," Vince greeted their group when he found them in the library during their free period the next day.

Draco sniffed disdainfully and pretended he hadn't heard anything (his reaction to any mention of the Gryffindor Muggleborn after she bested his test scores in Charms on the first grades of the term). Harry, being the dutiful friend and having no intention of talking about the girl either, followed Draco's example. "I see," Vince smiled as he set his own bag down. "Well then, does anyone have their star chart handy? I've lost mine somewhere."

"You can have mine," Harry offered, using a nonverbal charm to summon his own from his bag. "I've finished our Yule project already."

"Cheers."

Draco glanced up from his charms text. "You are skilled at the summoning charm now. That's good. I'll be sure to tell Queenie."

"Don't bother. Lady Malfoy has agreed to take over my studies during the Yule hols. I'll be learning nonverbal charms with her these next few weeks. If I am proficient with all of our curriculum and next year's spells by the summer then Helena has agreed to start teaching me wandless spells."

"Impressive," Vince said. "You're a fast learner, that's good."

"He has to be," Draco added. "His education has been sorely lacking up until this point. It will be a blessing from his ancestors if he is allowed to be named Head upon his fourteenth year."

Harry smirked. "You're just hoping I will form an official alliance between houses Potter and Malfoy."

"I believe father is expecting it at this point. He'll be sorely disappointed if you do not sign the papers."

"If by sorely disappointed you mean likely to hex me for the insult..."

Vince chuckled. "Please. Lord Malfoy is more likely to hold a grudge."

"Father does not hold grudges."

Harry and Vince passed a conspiring glance between them but allowed Draco his beliefs about his sire. The blond was observant and more so he was intelligent. He would eventually see some of the fallacies of his own father in the years to come and lessen his hero worship of the man. Or rather that was what Harry hoped and Vince expected.

"It is as you say," Harry acquiesced.

Draco shot him a sharp glance at his easy agreement but seemed content at what he said. "Have you finished that Transfiguration paper yet?"

Harry groaned. "That woman is a slave driver. We're one step away from arithmetic sequences and alchemical transmutations in theory for this term. By morgana's grace I dread to see what our OWL years will look like in her class."

"Is that a no?" Draco asked with a befuddled expression.

"Oh he's definitely finished it," Vince answered with a smirk. "The only time he ever complains is when he feels the effort given wasn't proportionate to the weight the assignment has on his grade. You know that ancient runes is pretty much exactly like that right?"

This last he said to Harry directly who waved off the question. "Yes, but at least in that course you either do the assignment or miss out on theory that allows you to understand the next module. There's a purpose to their assignments even if they aren't weighted heavily."

"By that same logic it stands to reason that the same is true for Professor McGonogall's class," Draco pointed out as he cast a drying spell on his own essay. "Helena says we learn about the animagus as sixth years. I imagine it might be nearly impossible to succeed in the transformation if not for the alchemical transmutations you're bemoaning currently."

Harry didn't point out that they were four years away from needing this information in that case. It was obvious that the information would be revisited periodically in greater detail to be sure that even the most dense of them retained the necessary information by the time they finished their OWLS. It was an obvious teaching method that although effective made Harry loath the format that Hogwarts classes were organized in. If there had been an accelerated program-- like the one Durmstrang was rumored to have-- then there would be a class where such repetitive review was wholly unnecessary and Harry wouldn't be wasting time on rudimentary explanations of advanced concepts better learned in their entirety. (Of course this ignored the very real issue of the short attention span of the first through fourth years as a whole while experiencing the beginnings of puberty.)

But not everyone learns the same way and this was probably why there were cases every year of families declining to send their students to Hogwarts and instead focused on homeschooling. Harry was almost positive the only reason Draco hadn't been one of those cases was Lucius Malfoy's machinations on using his heir to form contacts with other influential families when their heirs were young and impressionable (and Lady Malfoy's hope that Draco would have a pleasant childhood surrounded by his peers).

"You've finished all of our assignments for break then?" Vince asked, bringing Harry out of his mental ramblings.

"Yes, yes. I will be ready to put my free time to something useful. I'm sure that Lady Malfoy has something especially difficult planned for me to undertake for the holidays. It is her belief that the struggle to achieve makes the act of learning more tangible thus reflective."

Draco scowled. "Perhaps you're not as fast a learner as we thought then. I've never found great difficulty with any of mother's lessons."

By the careful glance Vincent shot to Harry they both were under the same assumption. Lady Malfoy was a brilliant woman, but a doting mother. Anything that her son would especially find disagreeable she would have not pushed for him to learn. Which is why Draco's mind palace was literally an ostentatious depiction of Malfoy Manor while Harry's was a verifiable fortress reminiscent of Hogwarts with traps and defenses galore. Both were occlumency and both effective, but the only way to learn an especially offensive form of occlumency was to have your mind attacked repetitively.

It was a painful experience to say the least.

"Is your mother having a Yule Ball this year?" Vince asked to change the subject.

"Father has decided to," Draco jumped on the change of topic with veracity he always did when Lucius Malfoy was able to brought into the conversation. "The Minister and at least half the Wizengamot have already reserved their places at the head table. The ballroom has been sequestered off already and mother is in the midst of preparations as we speak. Your uncle is also attending, Crabbe. Your father hasn't responded to his own letter last I heard so you should mention it to him lest father gets offended."

Vince nodded. Harry glanced between the two of them not wanting to voice his question but knowing it wouldn't be explained if he didn't. The only thing worse than having no information was making false assumptions. "What is the significance of a Yule Ball? Is it like a festival?"

As expected, his allies looked at him askance. "Wow," Draco sighed. "I keep forgetting you're not a proper pureblood. But it's obvious isn't it?"

Harry frowned. No it was not, in fact, obvious. Sure it was a ball held during the Yule season but that hardly explained its importance, the observed customs of this particular ball that differs from other such events, if expected dress was a variation of formal wear (which it probably was. Purebloods absolutely adored having too many clothes). Harry felt his surly silence summed up all of this quite nicely. "In your families' case," Vince began, proving that Draco wasn't as apt at reading people as he claimed, "there are some differences that are important to note."

Their homework was forgotten in the impromptu lesson on Yule ball etiquette and traditions, of which there were two score that applied to the Malfoy family. Harry quickly discovered he would have embarrassed the entire family as their guest during the holidays if it weren't for this conversation. As expected, he did need an entirely new outfit outside of the ones he had already bought (Draco was more than excited to set a day to return to Diagon Alley for a new outfit) and a new cloak. They spent much of the train ride the next day going over the etiquette once more just to prove Harry had retained all pertinent information from the impromptu lesson.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked when the train began slowing down as it came into London proper.

Harry had already changed into more appropriate clothes after breakfast and donned the winter cloak lined with occamy feathers (that ruddy thing cost more than a cleansweep six!) he had purchased that summer. It was warm enough with built in heating charms that were easily activated during the more frigid treks to the greenhouses in winter. It was also Harry's single favorite piece of clothing he owned currently. "Of course," he said before coming to a rise.

"Don't get into too much trouble before I arrive, will you?" Vince gave as a farewell before him and Goyle took their leave.

"We would never," Draco frowned.

Harry laughed. "You mean your mother would never allow us to. She is militant about any mischief."

Draco sniffed and stuck his chin out in mock afront. "Yes, well she is a proper lady."

Harry smiled. That was something no one could ever question. Lady Malfoy was the epitome of pureblood lady and an example for all others born into the lifestyle. Daphne waxed poetic about her at any given chance (it was almost as bad as Draco's obsession with his father but Harry felt that the matriarch of the Malfoy household deserved the praise infinitely more).

When they reached the platform the Lady and Lord Malfoy stood apart from the bustling crowd, a small perimeter surrounding them where no one dared to step. Harry wondered offhandedly if they used a ward or if it was just the air of superiority the purebloods surrounded themselves with that caused the phenomena? Lady Malfoy's greeting pulled him from his wandering thoughts. "Harry. I am pleased you have returned."

Harry wanted to beam at Lady Malfoy but knew such a show of emotion was completely inappropriate for King's Cross. "Lady Malfoy. I am honored to be welcomed into your home once again."

"You may call me by my first name, Harry. We are past such rigid titles, are we not?"

Harry had to bite his cheek to keep from grinning but noticed Draco didn't manage to hide his smug chin lift/smirk combo. Lady Malfoy-- now, Lady Narcissa, Harry supposed-- offering him the use of her first name was a level of familiarity that spoke of formal alliances and trust. It meant she saw his close relationship with their family as a boon to their bloodline rather than an asset to be utilized than discarded when no more gains were to be had.

It also meant that her husband would be expecting a formal alliance as soon as Harry became Head of his house Potter (and if his father was amenable, House Slytherin). And while the Malfoy family was by far the best house to ally with in the current political climate, Harry also looked to the future and he was sure he would have to convince them (Lucius and Draco probably more than anyone) that certain individuals were worth more than the names they carried and the blood in their veins. "Lady Narcissa," Harry said before his musing thoughts left too much of a pause in between her offer and his acceptance. "Blessings upon your house."

She nodded once, a pleased tilt to her mouth. "And to yours." The beautiful woman turned to her husband who looked on approvingly at his family's continual influence. "Shall we, husband?"

"Of course. Mister Potter, with me."

Harry's smile was a bit tighter as he grabbed hold of Lucius' outstretched arm.

Apparition. He abhorred apparition. (Plus he always felt horribly nauseous afterwards and didn't think the Malfoy patriarch would appreciate Harry vomiting on his boots.) Through luck-- and the fact that Harry had nearly bitten his tongue through at the jarring landing-- Harry didn't fall over or lose his breakfast. Draco, unfairly enough, appeared as if nothing was of concern, taking three careful steps forward with his mother. "You look a bit peaky, Harry," he smirked.

Harry sent a wandless, nonverbal stinging hex at the blond in retaliation. At his sharp yelp, both adults turned to stare pointedly at the two of them. "Draco," Lady Malfo--Narcissa said after a few seconds, "Please help Harry get settled in his quarters. Afternoon tea will be served in two hours."

"Yes mother," he said before shooting her a mischievous smile. "Come on then. Let's see if you remember your way to the East wing."

Harry resisted a loud groan. Draco knew damn well Harry got lost in his museum of a house. If it weren't for the fact that his room had an attached loo he was sure to have had at least one late night accident last Yule.

In the end he only took two wrong turns: once when he headed towards Draco's rooms instead of his own and a second time when he got turned around and started to head to the kitchen instead (Draco thought this was hilarious. Harry couldn't help but think that he was being rather stupid. After all, one never knew when exactly they would eat next. Expectations and reality were often incongruous when it came to food). It took them probably fifteen extra minutes by which time his trunk was already set at the foot of his bed and the fire blazing in the hearth had warmed up the room considerably. Draco left him to get changed out of traveling clothes (Harry rolled his eyes at the very thought that he needed to change clothes already) and disappeared off to his own rooms. This gave Harry some time to himself before tea which came in handy when he discovered that Draco and his father had absconded off somewhere to talk about 'heir business'.

Which translated into Harry's lessons with the matriarch starting a day earlier than he expected. "My son has informed me that you are in need of a more delicate instruction than the one I am already providing. It is his concern that you are... struggling with my current methods...?"

If the delicately arched eyebrow was not enough of a hint, the slight upturn of her lips told Harry that Lady Narcissa thought it was hilarious. Harry flushed in embarrassment as he tried to hide behind his cuppa. "We were talking with Vincent and Draco doesn't understand why I would struggle in your lessons when he does not."

"It stands to reason that I teach you and Draco differently despite the similarities in what you learn."

"Yes, Lady Mal-Narcissa," Harry hurriedly agreed, not wanting to insult. "But if I had told Draco that then he would have insisted on joining our lessons and learning the same way I do. He is not suited to this style, I think."

"Instead you allow your ally to operate under false assumptions and blunder around into compromising situations out of ignorance."

Harry flushed in shame. She was right of course (not like Lady Ma-Narcissa had ever been wrong in her life). Despite not being recognized by either the Ministry or magic, Draco was his ally. And as an ally it was Harry's prerogative to protect and aid the blond in any way possible that didn't harm his own household. Dealing with a pouting twelve year old was hardly the end of the world and if Harry was a little more mature he would have seen this. Instead he had omitted the truth that his mother was teaching them differently thus leading to false assumptions.

Such a thing could lead one to egregious mistakes in more important instances.

"It will not happen again," Harry vowed to Lady Narcissa, willing magic into his voice to show his commitment to the fact. "Never again will I intentionally withhold information from Draco for petty conveniences that are outweighed by the mistakes to be made by him due to misinformation."

For a precious few seconds the lady of the house looked completely bowled over. As if the lengths in which Harry had gone to make amends had surprised her for such a small matter. But to him it wasn't small. Harry had no one in the world-- his father, a shadow that haunted the halls of Hogwarts, had been almost killed at Harry's involvement and probably only protected him now in order to dispense a proper punishment at a later date. Professor Snape couldn't even look at him without scowling. Helena and Daphne offered information more than anything but had been particular in letting him know that their aid was conditionally given.

Vincent and Draco were the only ones he had. Lady Narcissa (and by extension, probably her husband too) only aided him because of this. If Harry didn't treat this with the utmost gravity he would question if he truly understood the importance of the two. That couldn't happen. He would never allow himself to be complacent.

"Thank you, Harry," Lady Narcissa nodded with a small upturn of her lips. The smile might have been small but the praise was genuine and shone through her crystal gaze. Harry had impressed her. It took all Harry could not to beam at the Black heiress.

In the end, Harry felt that his relation with Draco's mother had grown by leaps and bounds in the days he spent training under her, learning advanced and obscure magic. (Nothing Dark, though. She said it was dangerous to begin that branch of magic without having mastered Occlumency as it was intoxicating and could lead one to their downfall. Harry was good enough at the mind arts but accepted he had a long way to go if he wanted to achieve a mastery title.)

When Yule proper began Harry was no longer surprised to see that he had been gifted with presents once again. Being at Malfoy Manor he received them in the order they were sent as was proper. Which made it all the more bewildering that Blaise Zabini had sent him a gift on the first day.

Inside it was a thome-- a herbology text that smelled of lemongrass and sandlewood oddly enough. Within a few pages Harry could tell that it was exceedingly rare. Some of the ingredients listed were found in America of all places and getting any form of potions ingredients form the states was an arduous task Merlin forbid gaining information on said ingredients. It was speculated that the wizarding world as a whole only knew a third of the potential herbs to be found in the diverse landscape of the country.

Considering herbology was one of Harry's favorite (and best) subjects the gift was incredibly well thought out. Which only made it more confusing when he read the parchment attached to it. Ultimately, Harry didn't know how he was supposed to feel about the parcel from Zabini. If asked if there was anyone he outright disliked in their house the italian's name would be on the tip of his tongue. But the gift was granted on the first day of Yule. It was a sign of regard if nothing else-- it was almost impossible to make such a thing a mocking claim unless the gift itself was meant to be the mockery. But that wouldn't change that it was a Yule gift.

"Who is that one from Harry?"

Harry glanced up to meet Lucius Malfoy's gaze. He had never given the Lord of house Malfoy permission to call him by his given name, but the man was used to getting what he wanted and probably didn't even see it as taking liberties with his wife's level of familiarity with him. Harry doubted it even occurred to the man that Harry wouldn't want to give him permission. "One of my classmates is seeking a non-aggression pact. Blaise Zabini."

Of course it was a non-aggression pact and not an offer of alliance. No one in Harry's position would accept such a thing after their history and if Harry did, it would prove he was naive and undeserving of his position of authority. "Zabini? I don't recognize the family name..."

"He is the son of Belladonna Coppola, the widow of the late Lords Russo, Zabini, Medici, Strauss, and Abara. Lord Abara passed just last year."

Lucius scrunched up his nose in disgust. Harry noted that this must be where Draco got the expression from. "Oh yes. Her."

Draco snickered as his father's tone. He made the very thought of Zabini's mother sound like an omen of death. Harry blinked a few times. Well considering her list of deceased husbands, perhaps she was.

"What do you think he's scheming?" Draco asked as he leaned forward to inspect the gift.

Harry handed it over unconcerned. Lady Malfoy and one of the house elves had cast detection spells over the lot before breakfast had been properly cleared away. There wasn't even a sticking charm left to cause mischief on the parcels. Which reminded Harry-- "I don't think he's up to anything," he pacified Draco. "We aren't really antagonistic to one another. If anything this is an appeasement because of my informal alliance with you." With that handled Harry turned to Lady Narcissa. "My lady. I received an unusual parcel for Yule last year and wanted it checked before I opened it. Do you think you could check it over?"

"From last year?" she asked, more than a little confusion leaking through her voice.

Harry went to shrug but stopped himself mid-motion. It was a lazy habit and was detested universally by pureblood ladies. "The sender left me a note indicating it had once belonged to my father but not indicating who it was that passed it on to me. It was written with a charmed quill and seems unlikely that I was to discover who sent it with such little to go on. Considering who my father is, I thought it was prudent to at least check it for hexes and curses. To be safe."

"Yes your judgement was spot on," she nodded before turning to one of the house elves standing across the hall. "Mibby go and retrieve this parcel from Harry's items."

"It's in my trunk," Harry quickly added, "Within the potions compartment."

The house elf bowed low to the lady before disappearing with a snap. Harry enjoyed the way the creatures did magic and wondered if he could recreate such tactics. Once again Harry wondered as to the difference between magical humans and other magical creatures. The Ministry definition was complete hogwash and Harry personally supported Zou Yan's theory that all magical abilities were different pieces of a whole, one of the five elements. Each one was cyclical and transitional by nature meaning that there was overlap and eventual metamorphosis of magic between magical beings. (Unfortunately very little research was available to the public even if it was explored further, which Harry doubted in the case of the British Ministry. Most witches and wizards didn't like to imagine house elves, centaurs, and dragons as being their equals.)

Mibby returned at that moment a familiar parcel floating a few inches above her hand. "Mibby's be finding the gift, Lady Malfoy."

"Set it down right there," she instructed taking out her wand to begin casting.

Harry knew that Lady Narcissa was more than capable at casting basic detection spells wandlessly but figured she was doing some more advanced magic to make absolutely sure that it was safe. Harry appreciated the care in which she was giving his request. After a few minutes the lights emitting from her wand wained and she nodded to him. "There were several tracking charms and a compelling hex on it as well but I dissolved all of them."

Harry's gaze narrowed as she finally opened the parcel and levitated the item within. It was a cloak.

"It seems to be an old cloak. And there are no spells cast on it... Just the same it is magical in nature." Lady Narcissa's voice wavered off as she levitated the piece to Harry. "I don't think I've ever seen the like. Lucius, would you...?"

Harry kept his lack of faith in Lucius Malfoy knowing anything that his wife did not from his face and allowed the head of the house to inspect the cloak.

"This is fine material. It is cool to the touch-- probably would mask one's heat signature when pulled up." He said as he ran a careful hand along the length of it. "But as you said there are no inherent charms added to it. Any magic it holds originates from the material and not any outside party."

Harry took that as agreement enough and grabbed it from the levitation spell that had kept it aloft, cancelling the magic as he did so. Harry was so entranced by his own inspection of the cloak that he missed the glance passed between the parents at his casual display of nullifying magic. "It looks a tad ornate," Draco observed as he came closer to see as well. "I wonder who its from..."

"The message said to 'use it well'. Kind of odd, that, for it to be just a silly old cloak."

"Try it on, then. We might need to have it tailored to fit properly," Draco urged him.

Harry rolled his eyes. Leave it to the blond to focus on the clothings appearance rather than the mysterious origin of its deliverer. He stood up and in a practiced move (drilled into him during the summer at the tag-team effort of both Draco and Daphne) Harry pulled it around his shoulders in one precise movement and clasped it at his neck.

"That's an invisibility cloak," Draco gasped.

Harry gaze went from Draco down to himself in surprise. His entire lower half had vanished! "My body's gone!"

"Those are exceedingly rare, Harry," Lady Narcissa said, coming to stand at his side.

"And exceptionally expensive," Lucius added, his face taking on a contemplative expression.

One look from his wife quieted any possible political ploys he hoped to maneuver thanks to his newly raised estimation of the Potter wealth. "But it's unlikely this belonged to your father," Lucius continued. "Invisibility cloaks are made of demiguise hair and deteriorate rapidly upon creation. They last, at most, five or six years under extensive dark preservation charms and when used sparingly. Even then, the state of disrepair makes it... shabby." He said this last word as if it smelled fowl.

"But dear, this material is thicker than demiguise hair. The texture is reminiscent of acromantula silk."

Lady Narcissa waylaid her husband's assumptions and effectively stifled whatever scowl Harry was going to direct at the man. As if Lucius Malfoy could even imagine the greatness of the Dark Lord. If his father wanted to create a true invisibility cloak then simple deterioration of the materials would be only a minor inconvenience at best. "But you said the charms were Dark. Weren't the Potters a Light family?"

Lucius frowned at his son but answered all the same. "The main house of the last two generations has declared themselves such but traditionally House Potter is unaffiliated. It tends to be an even mix one way or the other with any given heir."

"Which is information you would do well not to repeat," Lady Narcissa warned them.

Harry and Draco both nodded dutifully. Both were well aware that talk of magical core alignment was taboo amongst magical folk. Speculation too often led to insult thanks to the social stigma against anything other than Light cores. Insult of such a personal nature led to blood feuds and the destruction of entire lineages.

She gave them both a soft smile before gesturing at the pile of papers with a flick of her wrist. Immediately the four house elves gathered at the edge of the room began setting everything back to rights. "You two enjoy the rest of your morning. We will continue your language studies this afternoon."

Harry and Draco passed grins between them before shooting off towards the entrance, Harry sparing a moment to banish the cloak back to his trunk. Lucius and Lady Malfoy gave each other another telling gaze. "He has gotten strong," Lucius observed as their voices rose into excited titters as they turned the corner.

His wife nodded. "So he has."

The eve of the third day of Yule saw the commencement of Lady Narcissa's grand ball. Harry and Draco were all but ordered to remain in their rooms following lunch and to not change into their robes until right before guests were to arrive. Harry, as the families' guest, would have to stand with the family to greet the guests as they arrived. (The self-satisfied smirk in which Lucius delivered this news had almost made Harry fake an illness of some sort just to spite the man. In the end he had abstained. After the horror of purchasing his Yule robes he was surely going to at least wear the ensemble.) Harry and Draco spent the time quizzing one another over their rudimentary knowledge of ancient runes that between the two of them managed easily to equate a third year's curriculum with a few topics of a more advanced nature. Draco was fascinated with the inner workings of spells and enchantments and if Harry wasn't sure his father would absolutely forbid it, his blond ally was sure to pursue it to mastery.

As the dinner hour etched closer Draco left Harry to finish the infernal concoction that was his hair care routine in peace. He had been lax the last few days and his curls had begun to return to an unmanageable mane once more. Draco had laughed so hard he had nearly fallen out of his chair when Harry had come down to breakfast that morning. Lucius had not been half as amused but Lady Narcissa's lips had curved up into a gentle smile. Even with her good humor at his hair's current state Harry was under no illusion that it would be acceptable to actually attend the ball with it like this. He had lathered his hair heavily in the Not-A-Knot Hair Mask after he had washed his hair and left it to sit for a good twenty minutes longer than necessary. He had found early on that the simple fifteen minute prescribed time would only temporarily tame his hair. At the first sight of water it would flop up again whichever way it wished. If he wanted to keep the curls manageable past the first wash he had to leave it on for at least forty-five minutes. (On a side note, he had also learned one horrible weekend that if he were to leave it on for an hour his hair would be as straight as Draco's and would refuse to revert back to anything near its previous state for a dozen washes.)

He had only just rinsed the mask out and was towel-drying his hair (Draco had screamed the first and only time Harry had used a drying charm) when a pop echoed through the room, signaling a house elf had entered. Harry glanced around and was surprised to see that it wasn't Mibby that had come to call him but one completely foreign to him.

"Hello...?" Harry said when the elf simply stared at him with wide eyes and shaking ears.

"Mister Harry Potter, sir! It is an honor, it is!" The house elf squeaked out and bowed heavily, its ears brushing the ground.

"Oh," Harry said, confused. House elves were normally very eager to provide a service to a wizard but never before had one greeted him in such a fashion. Admittedly he had a limited experience with the magical creatures but Harry had seen them around the manor enough times to have at least an understanding of how they normally act. "Are guests arriving already? I will be a few more minutes, but I'll hurry."

The house elf lurched up and fixed him with large watery eyes the size of tea cup saucers. The house elf sniffled a few pointed times and Harry hurried to stop whatever tirade it was going to go into. "What is your name?" he asked hurriedly.

Unfortunately this had the complete opposite effect on the creature. It broke out into large howling sobs that shook it's thin body. Harry flinched back and hat to bite down his reflexive apology. Draco had warned him to never apologize to the creatures and Lady Narcissa had further explained that it tended to result in the little creatures having any number of reactions, none of which were conducive in having them perform their requested task. The Lady had given him lessons on how to address them properly. "Attend!" he commanded and the house elf lurched up to fix its watery eyes on him.

It still cried but had stopped howling and was waiting for further orders. "Tell me your name."

The house elf wiped his eyes hurriedly with the back of its hand before bowing low again. "I is being called Dobby, Harry Potter sir. Lady Malfoy has been putting me as Mister Potter's personal elf"

Harry nodded once and smiled in relief. It was astounding that Lady Narcissa had assigned him his own house elf and was further proof that she not only favored him but held him in high regard indeed. His smile turned into a beam the longer he thought on it. House elves were not a symbol of wealth, like those without the proper knowledge automatically assume ( cough, cough--GRANGER-- cough) but rather a sign of old and potent magic. The kind regaled in stories of the time of the founders. Magic so rich it is entrenched in the land estates and manors are built on and feeds natural wards stronger than even those created by the best wardmasters in the world. Wards like those that cloak Hogwarts. Not just any family can have a proper wizarding estate nor can just any house contain house elves. The elves are bound to the magic of the family, to the bloodline. They are sustained by it.

Having house elves is not a show of wealth.

It is a blessing of magic.

That Lady Malfoy would bestow upon him a personal house elf shows generosity and courtesy of a level Harry had not known he deserved from anyone. It was so astoundingly humbling that he almost couldn't breathe through his own awe. More than a few minutes had passed by the time Harry collects himself again and continues to get dressed for the evening's festivities. "Have the guests started to arrive?" he croaks out through the lump in his throat.

"No, Mister Potter sir."

Harry nodded. Good. He'd need an extra minute to calm his thoughts before rejoining Draco. The nosy blond was sure to notice immediately that something was amiss if Harry were to leave immediately.

He got dressed with careful efficiency of movement, taking his time so as to calm the flutter of emotions that zipped through his outer occlumency shields like golden snitches. Happiness and delight were perfectly fine in small doses but mixed with a smattering of humility, self-depreciation, and unworthiness was a toxic mix to have floating around for any decent legilimens to pick up. The more calm Harry felt the more he noticed the nervous jittering of the house elf. For one, it was odd that he had waited in the room rather than returning to his other duties until he was called or needed to perform a task. None of the other house elves Harry had seen so far had lingered on in such a way. (Well except when commanded to... Had Lady Narcissa told him to remain at Harry's side? For what purpose?)

Harry shook his paranoid thoughts out of his head and turned to the elf. If Harry was seeing him right he looked pretty young, probably a young adult by house elf standards (but that could mean he was anywhere from twenty to fifty years old). It was getting him nowhere running circles in his own head. Harry'd just ask the house elf and be done with it. "Why are you still here?"

The elf jumped to attention and took several short steps forward in an eager fashion. "Dobby has news! News of a terrible plot!!"'

Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't expected that. "What terrible plot?"

"Bad things, terrible things are happening at Hogwarts. It is not safe there for Harry Potter."

And just as quickly as the house elf had incited his apprehension all tension left his body. "You mean the Chamber of Secrets being opened?"

Dobby let out this half-squak, half-screech sound and began wringing his ears. "Yes," he hissed. "You know, you know it is not safe there. It is not safe here. Harry Potter must return to his own family!"

Whatever good humor Harry was willing to extend the creature dried up at the last sentence. There was no one in any world that would make him return to the Dursleys if he could help it and certainly not a house elf. "No," Harry growled out, baring his fangs and just daring the creature to continue its odd rambling. "Dobby you are to speak about this to no one else."

The house elve's eyes widened and filled with unshed tears. "Ever!" Harry continued panic curling low in his stomach. "You are not to mention the chamber of secrets to anyone ever again, do you understand?"

If Lady Narcissa believed Harry was in danger she would do what she thought was best, even if it was sending him to the Dursleys. That could not happen. "Dobby, do you understand?" he asked again when the elf seemed to be on the edge of a mental breakdown.

"Yes," he sobbed and bowed its head low, still clutching tight to his ears. "Dobby won't tell another soul."

Harry ignored the creature's fit and pressed on. "And you will not act on the information you have. You will do nothing beyond the wards on the Malfoy Estates unless expressly requested by one of the Malfoys, do you understand?"

"I understand Mister Harry Potter sir," he squealed from his huddle on the floor.

"Good." Harry stared at the elf for a few more moments but could not calm the tightness in his core where he still feared that he hadn't done enough. He would have to calm his mind again (and pursue a higher level of occlumency if it was so easy to take him off guard).

Just then a knock came at the door and Draco let himself in. "Mibby says guests will be arriving by the end of the hour, are you ready?" Upon catching sight of the quivering and sobbing pile of house elf in his parlor Draco arched an eyebrow. "What did you do, thank it?"

Harry sighed. It looked like he wasn't going to get the reprieve he so needed. "Ignore him," Harry requested as he headed to the door. "I'm ready so let us go find your mother."

The rest of the Yule holiday passed without anything of note occurring-- although Draco had received a Nimbus 2001 and had practically bowled his mother over with his excited hug. As soon as Vincent had come over with Crabbe the four of them had oohed and ahhed over the broom. If it hadn't been snowing non-stop all break Draco would have probably taken it out for a test run. Luckily Lady Narcissa had absolutely forbade it as not even warming charms would protect them from the frozen bite of the wind.

Returning to Hogwarts was akin to coming home after an enjoyable vacation. Daphne had rode in the carriage up to the castle with them and had shared anecdotes about her family's holiday in France. (A quarter of which was told in French and was riddled with vocabulary that Harry had no hope of recognizing, even if Daphne had spoken slower.)

The return feast was as grand as always-- the Headmaster as barmy as any other announcement he had ever made in Harry's recollection-- and the company pleasing. Zabini made it a point to greet Harry to reaffirm that Harry's owl agreeing to a non-aggression pact was in fact still valid. (This greeting was cut short by Draco's own way of greeting the Italian that ended with the blond scowling and Blaise smirking.) There was no mention of the petrifications-

meaning no one had been attacked whilst the school was mostly emptied of students.

As soon as Harry stood to leave the feast-- Draco already into another argument with Blaise with Vince and Crabbe acting as referees (or more likely scouts for nosy prefects)-- he was waylaid by Helena who had an uncharacteristic serious expression on her face. She spoke before he could get off an inquiry. "The headmaster wants to see you during your free period tomorrow."

Harry couldn't say he was surprised. If anything, he would have expected the man to have called him in for questioning long before now what with the two petrification victims being people (or in Mrs. Norris' case, connected to people) Harry has had notable disagreements with. At least half of the school passed him speculative looks throughout the day and a quarter of Slytherin house was waiting for him to either confirm or deny his involvement in the entire situation. "Thank you, Helena."

His quick acceptance didn't change her sober expression. If anything she looked more grave. "Harry, he wants to meet you alone," she stressed.

Harry smirked. "Of course he does. He suspects I've petrified a student and a staff's familiar and happen to know where the chamber of secrets is located and how to enter it. None of those assumptions he wants anyone to be able to say under oath are ones he has against a second year student, much less the Boy Who Lived. Plausible deniability is his friend in this situation and furthermore with me being a minor I can neither testify under oath against him nor be dosed with veritaserum unless I am being directly prosecuted."

"He's a skilled legilimens and in close range that necklace won't be completely effective," she hissed out, her eyes widening and ruining her attempts at maintaining an aloof mask.

Harry took a moment to ponder over his mentor. Helena was giving away far more than she usually did and it was a novel experience for him. She was worried about Harry, worried about what secrets he held and what the headmaster would do if he discovered them in his unprotected mind. Her worry, flattering as it was, was unwarranted. Although far from a master Harry was more than skilled enough to prevent easy access to his mindscape. Anyone breaking in would have to put forth some minimal effort, an effort that leaves a lasting mark for any competent mediwizard or healer to notice and report as mandated by law when it pertained to minors and mind magic.

If Dumbledore wanted access to his secrets he was going to have to get his hands dirty to get them.

But none of this was ultimately what Helena was concerned about. She was easily able to deduce the same with a mere thought and would know there was no satisfactory way the manipulating headmaster could win in this situation. Which meant she was concerned that simply knowing what Harry kept within his head was damaging enough in its own right. He gave the sixth year another cursory glance. 'Just what exactly does she expect I'm hiding...?'

It was one thing for Vince to know who his father was (and considering the boy had all but sworn fealty to Harry after he had revealed that bit of information, the information leak could be excused). But for other Slytherins to know? And was that what Helena knew or was it something else?

Did she know he was part monster?

That he could speak parseltongue?

That the Dark Lord was hidden away amongst the depths of the school plotting petrification for anyone that so much as looked at him improperly? (Which stood to reason that Lockhart might be in a spot of trouble himself, a pleasing thought.)

Harry shook his head to clear the rambling thoughts away. Whatever she thought she knew, it wasn't going to aid him at this time. And he doubted she'd be accommodating enough to just tell him outright. "I will take the proper precautions. Your necklace is not the only line of defense I have against his machinations."

It was unlikely that his word had pacified whatever concern she had but it did serve the purpose of letting Helena know she had done all she could to impress upon him her concern. Now it was up to Harry to arm himself accordingly.

Draco was most curious as to the topic of their discussion and more to have a bit of fun than out of any negative feelings Harry decided he wasn't going to tell his blond ally what had transpired. By the time it reached their free period the next day Harry had left Draco with yet another ambiguous reason as to why he and Vince would meet him later. The older boy was downright pouting. "You needlessly antagonize him," Vince pointed out as they stopped in front of the gargoyle that signaled the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "Why not tell him where you are going?"

"Because not everything is Draco Malfoy's business. Besides it's just a bit of fun," he shrugged before remembering that he wasn't supposed to.

Vince rolled his eyes in answer to Harry's assertions but waved him away to speak to the old cook that was their headmaster. Truthfully Harry wasn't sure what he was to expect of this summons, but in his mind it was more of a meeting of adversaries-- of individuals on two opposing sides. The offering of sweets and the genial twinkle in the old man's eyes grated on his nerves in a way he wasn't prepared to handle and he turned down the offer a tad more uncouth than was probably prudent. It was plain to Harry that Albus Dumbledore saw him as nothing more than an insignificant child. His next words proved that all the more. "It has come to my attention that you might be in a precarious situation, my boy."

Harry blinked unabashedly at the Headmaster, ostensibly in feigned patience but in actual boredom. As in a physical manifestation of the emotion. (It was either that or irritation at the waste of his time when he could be studying.) If he wanted to drag Harry to this farce of a meeting with his faux concern for his well being he was more than welcome to waste his efforts. The slytherins would have a lark over the mere idea that the headmaster was concerned for a serpent. In his head, Harry was already narrating how he would deliver this story. 'Well the old man sat me down right proper in one of his cushioned chairs and offered me one of his sweets. Poisoned, probably.' (He wondered why the narration he created in his head sounded an awful lot like Draco...?)

"Well?"

Harry blinked and realized he had become entranced with one of the Headmaster's baubles while off in his own world. This one looked like a cross between a sneakoscope and a remembrall. The fog was pastel blue-- almost periwinkle-- and pulsed at a steady cadence. Almost like a heartbeat...

"Harry?"

Now that did get his attention. "I did not give you permission to use my first name," he scolded the man, almost reflexively. Of course, he immediately regretted his quick tongue but it was already out there. Which made the fact that the man merely nodded his head in acceptance suspicious.

Truly it was in poor taste that the old man had attempted a level of familiar address that he arguably could have claimed by right of Headmaster if Harry hadn't already made it perfectly clear to the man he wanted no part in any positive relation he might pursue. Dumbledore had visited him in the hospital after Draco and Vincent had been discharged and had attempted to speak with him about what had transpired beneath the school. Harry, however, was more than aware it was in his best interest to keep his plans for the philosopher's stone secret and had been quite short with him in turn.

It was laughable the man thought that his stance had changed any through the course of this year.

"Now, dear boy, there's no need to be so ruffled. You do not stand accused of any crimes as of yet. I simply wanted to hand you the opportunity to discuss anything of importance."

Outwardly Harry probably looked some facsimile of calm. Inwardly he seethed. 'Not accused yet? Hand me the opportunity? Does this old man hold such little regard for the slytherins that he would say this bullshit and call it diplomacy or is it because of my father that he is so discourteous?' "I assure you that anything I would wish to say to you, I have already told my head of house. As is expected." And it didn't hurt that he greatly disliked Professor Snape at the moment, making the statement more true than not. Master Leglimens' were capable of detecting lies as they were spoken without any use of magic. A boon of reaching such a high skill level, to be sure. Professor Snape used it as grounds to be more antagonistic to Harry seeing as Harry was incapable of addressing the man respectfully and honestly at the present moment.

Any further musings Harry had about his disdain for the two men was derailed by a familiar sensation of pressure behind his eyes. He sucked in a tight breath of irritation and resisted the urge to leap up from his chair in indignation. There was no mistaking it. Albus Dumbledore was testing his occlumency shields. Nothing so pointed as actually seeing past them but a passing glance that would have been more than enough to gather surface thoughts and opinions had Harry not been previously trained.

Which was insulting on so many levels that he thought Harry hadn't and furthermore that he could get away with this.

"There is no reason for your... consideration to fall upon me. I have nothing to report to you... sir," Harry spoke through gritted teeth, trying to mentally recite the sacred twenty eight houses, their number of seats on the wizengamot, and their political designation.

It did very little to calm his raising ire.

Dumbledore tilted his head forward to gaze at him over his glasses. Harry had to bite his tongue to restrain a sharp hiss of disapproval. It was a belittling tactic and a childish one to boot. Gazing down pointedly at Harry-- over his sodding spectacles-- was a way of accenting how much smaller Harry was to him. Both physically and politically. It made Harry seem all the lesser for not capitulating to his much older and wiser headmaster. "And still I must ask... is there anything you wish to tell me, my boy?"

Harry felt the manifestation of the headmaster's mind graze along his occlumency wards once again and this time he physically bristled. This was not a casual touch. This was a pointed jab. A probe for weakness.

'Fuck you,' Harry thought in a vicious and unexpected bout of anger, 'Fuck you and your meddling ways old man.'

But these thoughts were safely hidden behind his mental wards. Outwardly Harry spoke with the clarity of flawless glass. "No, sir."

His voice was a bit more forceful than it had been moments prior but it was still an acceptable concession. Professor Snape had been met with more questionable tones in the most recent term. He stared at Harry for a few seconds more, his grubby presence at the edges of his mental wards growing more pronounced with each passing second before finally he pulled back.

Harry was so mad he could spit.

"Very well, Mister Potter. You may return to your studies once more."

Harry was up and moving before he was even done with his first sentence. When he reached the bottom of the gargoyle a sharp glance to Vince, who had been waiting for his return, kept the older boy silent. The pace Harry set off down the corridor ate up the stone floor faster than if he had flown down the hall. Wisely, his ally did not question the meeting. Harry's ire was so great he was sure to unleash his fury indiscriminately at this point. 'He would dare!' he hissed in his head in mounting frustration. 'And then to keep attempting as if he just hadn't tried hard enough to lay siege to my mind!!'

"Wotcher Harry!"

Harry actually growled. Thankfully the bustle of the other students in the hall and the fact that only Vincent was close, kept the sound from being heard by others. That didn't mean Harry couldn't feel Vince's piercing gaze as Colin Creevey came up to his side. "I heard you spent Easter here last year, are you going to again? We could play exploding snap if you want or I'm sure Ron would let me borrow his chess board."

Harry internally snorted. It was seriously unlikely that Ronald Weasley would let anything he owned near Harry. "I am not in the mood," Harry said through gritted teeth not slowing down in the slightest.

"Right you are Harry," Colin Creevey chirped, still jogging a few steps behind the group Harry led to the Great Hall. "'The pressure of fame are a burden on one's shoulders when given the proper gravity.'"

Harry grinded his teeth. The nuisance is obviously quoting Lockhart's stupid arse which does very litle to improve his downturned mood. It was like he was purposefully trying to piss Harry off. "Don't you have studies to get to?" Vincent attempted to waylay the first year as Harry's agitated pace brought them to the Great Hall where Draco stood waiting.

Upon catching sight of them he turned away his own cadre-- Parkinson, Nott, and Boot-- before joining them. At the continued pace he raised an eyebrow. "Where's the fire?" Draco asked.

"Oh is that where you're going?" Creevey jumped in before anyone else. "Off on an adventure then? More of a Gryffindor trait than a Slytherin one, but you're Harry Potter. Saving innocents and defeating dark lords is kind of your thing!"

'Oh that. Is. It.' Harry turned on the balls of his feet and gripped his wand firmly where it appeared from his holster. He didn't dare raise it, not with so many witnesses, but the threat was still there for the gryffindor to see. "Listen to me and listen well Colin Creevey," Harry vowed in a cold, dangerous voice. "You will leave my sight by your will or mine. It is your choice."

The bouncy first year blanched white and took several steps back. Harry narrowed his gaze at the Gryffindor and that alone had him release a high squeak and sent him running back the way they came. He watched his blond curls bounce around the corner and only then did Harry turned to face his allies. Even Draco, who had been very audible about his disdain for the little stalker once he had realized that 'Creevey' was not an obscure half-blood house of little importance, looked a bit peaky. "What?" Harry spoke pointedly through gritted teeth.

He knew he wasn't being calm, wasn't being wise. A big portion of his occlumency lessons had required Lady Narcissa to bring some of his more unpleasant memories to the forefront of his mind and have him calm his thoughts despite them. It was essentially trial by fire and positively the most effective way to learn to keep an appropriately calm facade when partaking in the political games of purebloods. Yet and still the Headmaster's actions rankled him in a way that the Dursley's had never succeeded at.

The mystery of his irritation's truth only made him more upset. "Whatever," he grumbled as he decided to head instead to herbology.

Professor Sprout spent almost all of her free time in greenhouse three tending the mandrakes. With the source of the petrifications escaping the staff the only solution they had was to wait for the herbs to mature so they could be used in a potion that would cure the victims. The master herbalist was excited to see so many students show up to class early and the rest of the day passed without anyone daring to bother him about his foul mood (except Zabini but he was likely an idiot).

Which stood to reason that Harry should have been prepared to be waylaid by said idiot on their way to History of Magic the next afternoon.

He wasn't, however, prepared for the news he brought with him.

"There's been another petrification."

Harry's steps faltered at Blaise's words. It was a rookie mistake and the others noted it as well. It was this careful observance that Harry detested the most about his house. They were always looking for signs of weakness or things to exploit. A half-overheard conversation could be a wand to one's throat ten years from now. This one perceived misstep would be noted and remembered. Harry continued down the corridor to History of Magic. "Oh? Has Caretaker Filch joined his cat?"

"No. Colin Creevey."

Harry was more prepared this time, but he knew the absence of emotion on his mask was just as telling. Inside he was swearing. Colin sodding Creevey. He could understand that his father was trying to help, but did he have to be so obvious? "Who?" he asked.

Draco glanced at him but continued forward at his side. Zabini wasn't fooled either. "You know. First year. Gryffindor. He's been stalking you all term, taking pictures. You've hexed him twice already."

"Ah. Yes, him. I'd almost forgotten about him. No wonder he didn't ambush me at breakfast this morning."

"I'm sure your threat yesterday morning had nothing to do with it at all," Zabini quipped back.

"Zabini," Harry said in warning.

As he was prone to do, the italian merely smiled pleasantly and changed the subject entirely. "The first Dueling Club meeting is today after dinner."

Nott groaned. "I was excited to go, but then my cousin tells me that she's the one assigned to make sure our year returns to the dorms in one piece come the end of the meeting."

Harry was surprised to hear that. The only time they had escorts as second years was once a week during astronomy practical, but that was only because they had to travel from the Western tower all the way to the dungeons. It took almost thirty minutes to get back to the common room after lessons and of course the prefects wouldn't let them wander along on their own. But the club meeting was occurring literally right after dinner and should conclude well before curfew. "Right. Professor McGonogall says they endeavor to keep an eye on the students. These petrifications are a nasty business for an independent institution like Hogwarts," Zabini observed as he came up to join their group heading to Binns' class.

"We're being escorted back to the common room?" Goyle asked.

"Not just that. They're changing curfew to six."

"Six?!" Harry whined. "Not even the library is closed that early."

"Well it is likely to be now," Draco frowned. "Everything is shutting down before dinner and after dinner we're to go straight back to our common rooms. The only reason the dueling club is probably even being allowed is because it will potentially teach us some helpful magic to protect ourselves."

Nott caught on faster than the rest of them to what the escort after dinner meant. "They've cancelled all the clubs? What about evening quidditch practices? Doesn't our team practice after dinner?"

"Not anymore," Zabini grinned. "Everyone has to do their activities during daylight hours. Professor Snape gave the team permission to take Gryffindor's spot during the Saturday morning and Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon slots. It forces them to practice at daybreak twice a week. You should have seen Oliver Wood's face when he heard."

Harry couldn't help his own smile. Leave it to Blaise to already have that type of information. Harry had only been to a handful of quidditch matches last year and hadn't expected to attend many more this year, but without the mandatory flying lessons first years were allowed he would miss being in the air. He'd probably go if nothing else to prevent himself from going stir crazy. And gather intel of his own. There was bound to be plenty of gossip in the stands and if Harry was extra careful he might even determine who his greatest adversaries were. Bulstrode and Nott weren't active in house politics (not like it would matter with Nott's cousin declaring herself as Harry's sponsor). Vincent, Draco, and Goyle were allied to him and Blaise had just finalized their non-aggression pact. And speaking of... "Goyle," Harry said turning to the taller boy, "Where's Vincent?"

"He was sent to the hospital this morning. Some of Finnigan's explosive potion got on him and burned right through his robe. Don't you remember?"

Harry hadn't. The odd voice had been echoing through the walls again and had completely distracted him for several seconds. Luckily their potion had been settling away from the fire for some time otherwise Harry and Draco might've found themselves experiencing their own explosion. "Ah yes. Now I recall," Harry said instead and hurried off to class.

History of Magic wasn't as uneventful as Harry had hoped it would be. Hermione Granger, as she often did, wanted the answer to everything in life and the mystery to the Chamber of Secrets was no different.

Harry, for his part, was agitated.

That girl kept poking her nose where it didn't belong-- and who did Professor Binns think he was assuming he knew what went on in the mind of Salazar Slytherin? A monster, indeed! Harry for one hadn't grown up in this mysterious chamber and doubted his father had spent the last decade hiding away in the halls of Hogwarts for the ambiance. No, everyone, once again, was proving themselves to be complete and utter simpletons. Not even his own house was spared. "Who do you think opened the chamber?" Goyle asked with a conspiring smile as they headed to dinner.

Draco did his 'I'm-someone-important' chin lift and sniff combo. 'My father...' Harry thought. "Well I've sent a letter to father and he will relay all the important details."

Harry rolled his eyes. It was something Daphne found uncouth but when it came to Draco Malfoy's father-worship exasperation was a reflex at this point. Harry would probably hurt himself trying not to roll his eyes. Blaise's voice broke Harry's train of thought. "I'm sure daddy dearest doesn't tell you everything Malfoy. How strong are your occlumency shields?"

"Better than yours Zabini!" he snapped back.

Harry wished he had had the foresight to negotiate an inclusion of his own allies in the non-aggression pact he had signed with Zabini if only to spare himself of the endless baiting that the two did to one another. Helena insisted it was a pre-slash slow burn in the making (whatever that meant) but it seemed to be happening more frequently, not less. If the two couldn't stand each other then why did they make a point of interacting? During free period yesterday Zabini had literally scoured the library to find their study table in the back by the Arithmancy section only to start an argument with Draco and then leave. If the two didn't look so upset Harry would swear that they actually liked fighting. "Are those two fighting again?"

Harry hadn't seen Vincent enter the Great Hall but was glad he was there to mediate between the two. No matter what his ranking was, Draco rarely listened to Harry unless it would jeopardize his own standing (a threat Harry didn't like to use). Arguing with Zabini wasn't one of those things as up to recently Harry would have been on Draco's side. Goyle figured that as long as they didn't come to blows, everyone was content to let them bicker. If Professor Snape wasn't so focused on making Harry's year miserable then he might've addressed it weeks ago. "They're always fighting," Nott pointed out, "But it's better than the alternative."

Goyle perked up from where he was piling food on his plate. "What's the alternative?"

Nott actually cringed. "Let's just say I now know why Wood and Flint never come to blows over quidditch."

Vince arched his eyebrows. "Huh. Imagine that."

Nott's face did a weird mix between draining of blood and flushing at the same time. The end result was his face oddly splotched. "Well I don't need to," he growled.

Goyle blushed heavily and Harry looked between the three pretty sure he had lost something somewhere. "What? Imagine what?"

Hands came up to cover his ears, but Harry still heard the muffled voice of Helena as she was very close. "Harold's too pure for these sort of talks Theodore Nott. I'll send word to Aunt Lecilia if you don't behave."

"Oi! I didn't do nothing!" Nott hollered.

Harry tilted his head back and caught sight of his favorite prefect. "Helena I've told you: it's just Harry."

"Whatever you say Henry."

Harry sighed, but let her be. She never listened to him. Still if he didn't try it was the same thing as admitting defeat. He turned back to Nott rather than get dragged into conversation with Helena (she used terms he didn't know and then refused to define them all while maintaining a cheshire cat worthy grin). "You and Draco argue at least twice a week. You really have no leg to stand on."

"Better twice a week than every time we see each other. Zabini's in our dorm room and they still argue there. It's like they can't help but butt heads."

"I ship it," Helena added.

Harry sighed. Another term he didn't understand. By Nott's face, he understood completely what his mad cousin was talking about and wished she had kept it to herself. "That's disgusting."

"Wait until you hear who I think is going to top."

The noise that escaped Nott's throat was some mutation between a howl, scream, and choke. He tripped over himself retreating as fast as his legs could carry him. "It's not blondie!" Helena shouted after his retreating form.

A scream sounded from the general direction Nott had turned in the corridor outside. Harry looked to Vince, but he seemed just as lost as him for once. At least it wasn't some wizard code he was supposed to know. Perhaps it was a girl thing? "What's wrong with Nott?" Draco asked.

Helena's smile was more Mad Hatter than cheshire cat in that moment. "Trust me darling, you don't want to know."

The blond blanched, if from her tone, the words, or the smile Harry didn't know, but it probably didn't matter either way. Women were terrifying.

A/N: I know it's been a long time coming by here are the rewritten chapters I promised last year. I'm posting a bunch of chapters all at once-- many of which have been rewritten and the last of which is an update. Because of this it might be helpful to reread at least from chapter 8 onwards where a lot of the additional scenes begin cropping up. That also means the author note will be identical for half of the chapters so every reader that's already started the story knows what's going on. I thank everyone for their patience.
Aerialas