A/N: I don't know why I'm still writing this — seeing as no one ever reviews (EXCEPT FOR YOU, ILOVEBLUEANDRICE, AND I LOVE YOU)— but whatever. I guess I'm just doing it for my own sake at this point. As you can see, there has been some slight plot development with the story, and the horizons of what's happening are beginning to expand. This chapter will be fricking long, because I want it to be, and will contain some elements of humor, some fluff, some slight abuse mentions and the like, etc… within the Harry Potter series. To the very few of you who sent me PMs, I love you all dearly.

Just to make some things clear…

Text like this: Zale's thoughts. Can also be thoughts of other people, but in that situation it will be clear.

'Text like this': Thoughts of One and Two

"Text like this": Normal talking.

This fic will be done in three of four parts, not quite sure yet. Anyway, here's the first part.

Chapter One

"People say 'time heals all wounds.' That may be true but relocating to an alternate reality can sure help too."

Nathan Van Coops

"Oh, I'm sorry — you think I'm you? Here's the thing pal, the very concept of 'you' and 'me' is so messed up, that for all you truly know I could be your Great-Aunt Edna. Who are you? Who am I? Do we look exactly the same and have exactly the same genetics? Sure, but I've lived a life completely different to yours. So are you me or am I you? Or are we maybe both just different people but the same being? Eh, I'm drunk dude, whatever. Just buzz off, will ya? I've met enough alternate timelines and heard enough about their lives to get bored of anything that doesn't come in a pint, with strong and intoxicating repercussions."

Unknown

The moment he hit the grass, Zale could tell something was… off. Well, not off exactly (he'd crossed that frontier quite some time ago), merely different — and different about him specifically.

'Hey Zale?' Said One. 'Do you know who I am?'

Zale felt the (completely rational) desire to toy with One, but he decided that now was not the time. I do indeed, One.

'We're so screwed,' came the voice of Two. 'How the zark does this sort of thing happen?'

'And why to US?' Whined One.

'Wait!' Said Two. 'The watchers of the show, the Xenobrians — they're loving it! They love the twist! We're famous! We just went up three globulons in popularity over the past Earth Minute!'

So we're all good then? Zale asked the two beings.

'We are now,' said Two, and let go a deep breath, 'though twenty Earth Seconds longer without positive results would have stuck us into a lot of trouble.'

Don't think about bad things like that! Zale animated him. Think about how you'll definitely remember your Zabla's anniversary this time around!

'Excellent point.'

I know.

Pulling out from the conversation in his head, Zale looked around him. Oh, he knew where he was. In fact, it would be hard not to. As to why he felt different, the answer was obvious: He was no longer in his own body. Up until that moment, Zale had been dropped into stories and different characters, but his body had always been his own. Not this time. He quietly crept into the house, and into the room where he knew the character he was playing lived, and immediately turned to look at himself in the mirror. He was lanky, not muscled. Tall, not short. He had black hair, if his eyes didn't deceive him, and a pair of large, circular glasses.

"You're messing with me."

He covered his mouth quickly, not realizing he had said it out loud. Quickly, he turned to his alarm clock. The little apparatus relayed the fact it was four in the morning, the first day of summer vacations. I must ask, inquired Zale, how you two manage to stick me in the funnest of lives at the best of moments.

'You keep getting us high ratings, buddy-boy,' said Two, 'And we'll keep getting you fun lives.'

Sounds good. What's up next?

'That's up to you. You told us to put you in a place you might die more easily? Welcome to a place where a dark wizard is literally trying to do exactly that.'

Do you guys WANT me to die?

'No, we WANT you to get good ratings. Now chop-chop!'

Za- Harry scoffed, but stood up, looking at himself in the mirror. He let out a tired sigh. You'd think that with three years of intense sports, Harry would have some kind of muscle, but the kid still seemed as skinny as the day he left his mother's womb. He guessed it was up to him, but it was going to take a lot of work, and Zale had really been hoping he would be in an okay place physically (it's difficult to run for your life when you're skinny and malnourished). Well, from now on, Harry would be different. He would do all those cliché things from overpowered Harry Potter fanfiction, every single one, if it meant getting him to a place where he could kick book-Voldemort's serpentine rear.

Well, no time like the present.

It was strange to Zale, to start over again in his physicality. Wherever he had gone, at least he had started off reasonably strong, but here — he was gasping for air after ten pushups. Ten measly pushups! Ridiculous. No matter, those ten pushups were the start towards reaching eleven, and those were the start towards reaching twelve, and so on. He'd have to find a summer place to train to fight as well. He might not have the physicality of before, or the musculature to hold a fencing position, but those were things in the mind — things which one could never really forget. He saw his own back. Son of a- scars criss-crossed it, and Zale felt righteous anger building within him. Of all the things that were true about fanfiction canon, this had to be one of them? It was time to turn poor Harry's life around. But he'd have to be smart about this. If he messed with stuff too drastically and quickly like he did in Narnia, Voldemort might change his plans. Zale, or Harry, or whoever he was, didn't want that happening. At least, not before Harry was ready.

Zale had decided to accept the name. He always ended up falling into the person he had become, so why not just accept it? It wasn't like anyone was ever going to say "Hey Zale!" here. So when Harry stood up, Harry was who he would be — and no one else. He grunted lightly as he did the push-ups. He wasn't at a place where he wanted to deal with the Dursleys yet, especially not if the belt-mark scars around his back were anything to go by. He had always heard of fics where Harry had been abused, and had seen it as possible, but this had brought the trope to its full, brilliant, hideous light. As he worked, Harry made his plans for the upcoming year. He knew Moody would be an impostor, he knew the cup would be a trap, he knew the Yule Ball would be incredibly uncomfortable, and he knew Rita would be a pain in the ass. He also knew that Cho Chang was a crybaby, so he'd have no problem letting Cedric have her.

As to long term future planning… he'd have to gather the horcruxes quietly, silently, until the moment he had them all and could eliminate them all. He already knew The Journal was destroyed, so that left… msbsbmsbsbmsmmmm… seven horcruxes, including Harry himself. Harry knew he'd probably have to save himself till the end, as he wasn't sure how to get rid of it. Investigation was definitely needed, for now — and not just about horcruxes. Spells, magic, the lot. He'd have to become the most O.P. Harry Potter possible, as far as was reasonable. Obviously, it'd be impossible to get him up to the O.P.-ness that most fanfiction writers liked to achieve, but there was still so much Harry could do.

For one, he could actually start paying attention in class. Maybe even to old Bins who, if Harry's memory served him right, only ever talked about goblins, because if Harry was right about his hypothesis, there would be many times in the future in which he'd need to deal with the goblin nation. The goblins were a greedy, selfish little people, but then again so were humans — only humans just weren't as good at getting away with their greed as the goblins. Lastly, and Harry was absolutely adamant about this with himself, a romance with the youngest Weasely must be avoided at all costs. They had nothing in common except quidditch and Ron, and Harry could think of nothing more creepy than falling in love with a girl who looked like his mother.

That's some real Oedipus Complex type crap which I am in no way getting involved with if I can help it, Harry thought to himself. Did the original conception of Harry actually get love-potioned? Nah, that can't be it. Too exaggerated. Maybe he was just teen who made dumb decisions. Oh well, we won't make that mistake THIS time around!

But what was the best ship for him? Who would help him? Fleur? No, too overplayed. Hermione? Felt way too much like a sister to him. Romilda Vane? Barf. Think think think… Harry's eyes lit up when he thought of her. The best, and most fantastic collection of ships that Harry had ever been placed in within the fanfics all had one person in common. Interesting how the official books only mention her once and yet she actually had the potential to be a better match than Ginny, wondered Harry pensively. The point was, he had a target. The Ginny trope would be no more! He let out an accidental whoop and heard a roar from the room next to his. Harry gulped nervously.

Crap.

Chapter Two

"Many will claim that magic itself requires not the use of words, which is why wandless magic is the dream of many a young lad. However, we would counsel caution. Only the most powerful wizards may do even the most simple of wandless magic. The words and wands are not just conduits for 'weaker' magic, as some would claim, but as a way to channel the power in a manner safe (well, as safe as magic can be) to the witch or warlock. The more powerful the magic, the more necessary a proper conduit. Beware the myths of supposed power coming from the usage of wandless magic."

From the desk of Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel

Once the smarting from his most recent beating had died down, Harry stopped cursing his uncle for his temper and belt, and began to curse himself for his foolishness. He should have brought up Sirius. But no matter, for it was time to get to work.

(A/N: Yes, hi there. As the great Mr. Goldman once said, "S. Morgenstern really did sometimes choose to go on much too long over the most unnecessary things." I fear I suffer from the same curse. For this reason, I will compile for you, dear reader, a collection of scenes which I suppose will constitute a literary flash-forward. I beg you to not grow too frustrated with me when you find me skipping over things. In order to accomplish this, I will use "What with one thing and another".)

What with one thing and another, the time for summer's end was growing quite close. Harry checked his long, albeit doable, checklist for the summer, to ensure he was at the point he needed to be for the upcoming year. He might not be exactly muscled — yet — but rather than skinny he was wiry now. He had bought contact lenses (delightful things, these muggle inventions) and had, most importantly, gone to Gringotts to check some things out. As he had always suspected, Harry's small fortune was merely a precursor of the greatness to come. Lucius Malfoy step out of the way, there was a new rich boi in town. Not only this, but the properties would be quite an asset as well. The Godric's Hollow property had been destroyed, as had been the first manor, but two more properties remained — one in Britain, one in France. Harry had breathed out a sigh of relief at learning this. At least this part of the trope was right. He technically couldn't claim everything yet, as he was of yet a minor, but some interesting laws Harry had been reading up on seemed to afford him a bypass of the system. Harry had — much to his friends' surprise — kindly rejected their offer to go to the world cup this year, as he knew what was going to happen, but did place some heavy bets on the exact outcome of the match. Obviously, he had raked in some massive winnings. Does the wizarding world even have an IRS? Wondered Harry.

Lastly, Harry had taken a couple self defense classes, suitably cowed the, well, pigs (Dursleys), and bought a fair amount of delightfully fascinating books. While Harry might not be able to do magic while at his home (the legality of the magic involved was a gray area, but Harry would rather keep the books under wraps until he could practice safely without suffering the risk of arrest), he could still memorize the wand movements, word statements, and language pronunciations. He had found some supposedly "dark" texts by some incredible magicians such as Herpo the Foul (who actually had a great sense of humor in his texts, by the way) and by the great alchemist Nicholas Flamel. Armed with new knowledge, Harry Potter marched off to Platform 9¾ quite confident that no one would out-nerd him this year. Watch out world, there was a new Harry Potter!

As his first step, Harry decided it was time to make the acquaintance of some of the Slytherins, his target included. The scene didn't exactly go down as he had expected, though. Observe.

"Hey Daphne! Hey Tracy!"

"Shove off, Potter." *Slams door in Harry's face.*

For all his betterment, Harry was apparently still useless with girls. He knocked again, but found himself ignored. Okay, breatheeee, he told himself. They still see you as an annoying, embittered little Potter who's as likely to say hello to Slytherins with nice intentions as marry the giant squid. He calmed himself with this over the next couple hours as he sat with Hermione and Ron, but the next few weeks didn't seem to be getting any better. Every time, it seemed to be the same thing, and beginning to feel like no girl was worth it. Sure, she had brilliant blonde hair, baby blue eyes, alabaster brows, high and commanding eyebrows, perfect teeth, and a strut Malfoy would kill for, but she still wasn't worth it! Or at least, that's what he told himself every time he tried to dissuade himself from talking to her. Harry even had a chart going at this point of the days and his rejections.

Day One:

"Hey Daphne!"

"Potter, get out of my way or I'll hex you."

Day Seven:

"Hey Daphne I-"

"Potter I swear to magic, if you keep annoying me I'll turn you into a bloody bat."

Day Eight (Through Twelve):

"Hey Daph-" *poofed into a bat."

Now, Harry wasn't stupid enough to try to talk to Daphne in front of other people and so be mocked nonstop, but he had to find a way to talk to her and he was growing tired or rejection and also of being turned into a bat. But try as he might, there seemed to be no way for him to talk to her. Finally, the day after the fiasco with the goblet of fire (things went in basically the same manner as in canon in this scene, because Harry wasn't about to do something as stupid as try to throw a tantrum right there and tell everyone that he hadn't volunteered) she finally talked to him. This time he didn't even have to search for her, she talked to him! Well, after elbowing him in the back in an empty corridor.

"Potter you little sack of useless crap, how'd you get your name in?"

Harry sighed, rubbing his hurting back. "I didn't."

"Well your name was there, wasn't it? And I don't really care what happened, but liars annoy me, so you'd better not be lying."

"Aren't Slytherins good at lying since they're clever and conniving?"

She stuck her (admittedly perfect) nose up. "We call it bending the truth to our needs."

"Fair enough."

"Also, and honestly more importantly, why d'you keep following me around?"

"I want to know you better."

"Bollocks."

"Look, what could I possibly do to you?"

Daphne stared at him as if he was stupid. "Oh I don't know, Potter. You're a guy. I'm a girl. You're in Gryffindor. I'm in Slytherin. What could you do to me? Maybe just take advantage of me, use me for information, try to hex me so that Malfoy will feel your wrath and revenge or however it is that you boys fight, among other things. And don't think I haven't noticed that you've bulked up this summer Potter. What are you aiming at?"

"And what if I just want to know you better? Also, I think it's adorable you noticed I bulked up. Really makes me feel special."

A touch of red tinged Daphne's cheeks, but just a tinge. "Potter, ever heard anyone call me the Ice Queen? You know why?"

"Mhm."

"It's because just like ice, I'm cold. I don't care about your opinions or desires or hopes. Leave me alone."

Harry sighed again and shrugged. "Okay."

"What?"

"Okay! That's what you wanted right? Clearly, you have no interest in meeting me, even after I've talked to you, and if that's your decision I need to respect it. See ya!" He trudged off, mentally scratching his head. Was he doomed to take one of the Patil sisters to the Yule Ball forever? He supposed it wouldn't be too bad if he- a voice from behind stopped him. Her voice.

"Oy Potter!" Daphne looked baffled as she called out to him, as if she herself couldn't believe she was doing it.

"Yeah?"

"You're weird, you know that right?"

"Yeah?"

Daphne rubbed her face with her hands. "If you actually want to hang out with me, Potter, bring that friend of yours. Longbottom."

"You like him?"

"Oh hell no. But my friend Tracey is head-over-heels in love with him for some reason."

"So if I get Neville to come with me to pick you up, you'll hang out with me?"

"Once, Potter! Once! Not a single time more! I'm only doing this for Tracey!"

"Yes'm! Also, why are we shouting at each other from a hallway down!? Couldn't we have just walked towards each other again!?"

"Shut up Potter! Your attitude is going to get you killed someday!"

"That's kind of the plan!"

"What!?"

"Nothing!" And smiling widely, he turned the corner to head towards the common room. Maybe this wouldn't suck as much as he had thought it would a couple of minutes ago.

Chapter Three

"We don't know where this whole "swearing on my magic" thing came from. You people do realize that means absolutely nothing, right? If you want to make a magical oath (in which one loses their connection to magic in the case where their oath is broken), you have to do a complex rune pattern to indicate the oath being made and then complete a ritual. Well, unless you're making an unbreakable oath — but you don't lose your magic if you break an unbreakable oath or lie while making one… you just drop dead. And magical contracts can cost you, but never magic. Magic is not something inside a person — it's the energy that surrounds us. Powerful wizards just know how to draw on that energy better than others. This generation is full of stupid children who think that if they say 'I swear on my magic, yadda yadda yadda, so mote it be' it actually means something. Cockamamy. Cockamamy we say!"

From the desk of Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel

Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom waited on the dungeon stairs — per Daphne Greengrass' request — as they awaited the two Slytherins. Well, Harry awaited them and Neville awaited something he had no idea about. Harry had decided it would be hilarious to place Neville in this kind of situation, and he swore to himself he would have no regrets.

"Harry," Neville puzzled for the fiftieth time (okay, so maybe Harry was having SOME regrets). "Not to be an ass, but is there any particular reason you had to drag me along with you?"

Harry decided to throw the poor guy a bone. He grinned. "You'll see." It was a pitiful bone, but at least he had said something instead of grunting this time around.

Neville bit his lip. "I hate not knowing stuff."

"You'll be fine, just don't freak out."

"I- Okay." Neville seemed to deflate. "Okay, Harry, I'll trust you."

"Thanks mate."

The two girls finally showed. The moment Tracy Davis saw Neville Longbottom, the scowl that had clearly been on her face changed into a beaming smile. She let out a happy screech and Neville found himself in the tight embrace of the girl. Harry could see that his poor friend was beginning to go blue, so he decided to intercede. "Hey, Davis."

Tracey Davis stopped her vicious (if unintentionally so) stranglehold on Neville. "Potter," she said, her face once again hosting a suspicious scowl. "What brings you around he-" she stopped, eyes widening, face morphing yet again — a smirk this time. She turned to her best friend. "You told me we had to go buy flobberworm excrement for some potions, Daph."

Daphne, for once, seemed rather red. "Well, er-"

Tracey's smirk grew wider. "And you're here for a date with Potter."

"It's not a date!" Exclaimed Daphne.

"Yet," said Harry and Tracy together.

Tracey smiled. "At least you brought my Neville."

A tiny voice spoke behind them. "I'm sorry," said Neville, "but I'm not sure how exactly I'm yours, if we've never truly known each other that well." Seeing Tracey's face fall, however, he rushed to add "... n- not that I'm uh, complaining, see-" he stuttered to a stop and a blush covered his face.

Tracey grabbed his hand. "Come with me, Mr. Longbottom, and I will explain the intricacies of my adoration for you somewhere where we can talk in peace." She turned before going down the stairs, fulminating Harry with a glare. "If you hurt Daphne, Potter, I will turn your hair into black mold and curse you into thinking the Venomous Tentacula is superior to Veela in both beauty and romantic desirability."

Harry shivered. If nothing else, these Slytherin girls were at least creative with their vengeance. "Yes ma'am."

The smile slid back onto Tracey's face, and she pulled a bemused, if rather lovestruck, Neville behind her as she chattered away animatedly.

Harry bowed to Daphne and motioned towards another staircase, mockingly sticking out an arm as if to accompany a damsel. Daphne whacked his head. "This isn't a date, Potter!"

He gave her a very Tracy-esque smirk. "Not yet. But you'll fall eventually."

She scoffed, but surprised him by taking his arm anyway. "Lead on, servant boy."

"As you wish."

"Princess Bride?"

He turned to her in surprise. "How did you know? That's a muggle book!"

"False, Potter. Once again you reveal your stupidity. 'The Princess Bride' is a novel based on wizarding history."

"Wait, seriously? How about the Princess Snow White?"

"Snow who?"

"Obviously not, then."

"Just because muggles love putting us into their stories does not mean all those stories are correct. This White Snow-"

"Snow White."

"Semantics. Well, she's clearly a muggle invention. Cinderella, on the other hand, is also a wizarding tale."

"No kidding. Wait, so back to The Princess Bride — you're telling me that Miracle Max-"

"Was a famed wizard, yes. Famed both for his magical skill and his pettiness. He delved deep into the depths of death magic like no had ever done before, and no one ever has again."

"Not even Voldemort?"

Harry was reasonably impressed that Daphne managed to keep herself from flinching, and even more as she spoke with a steady voice. "Not even he — though the two should really not be compared. Voldemort has corrupted death. He has twisted life magic. Miracle Max merely discovered that there is a certain time before a soul is truly gone from a body, and that if that point has not been crossed yet they can be returned."

"Fascinating. If you don't mind me asking, why did you even allow this to happen? I mean, you turned me into a bat the last time I talked to you."

She glanced over at him. "Well, for one, you actually respected my request for you to back off once I gave you thirty seconds to explain why not."

Harry grimaced. "Yeah, actually, sorry about that. I know it was probably really annoying for me to keep pushing, and that's probably kind of creepy-"

"It very much was so, yes."

"- I could just never get more than two words in."

"That's usually how long it takes Draco to say something disgusting."

"Please tell me you didn't just compare me to Draco Malfoy."

"You two are much more alike than you think — at least when it comes to pride, Potter. Anyway, I'd say that really, more than anything else, I did it for Tracey."

"Tracey?"

"Yeah. Here's the thing, see-"

CHANGEPOVCHANGEPOVCHANGEPOVCHANGEPOVCHANGEPOVCHANGEPOV

"- I've liked you since your grandmother and you came to visit our house and you tripped on the stairs when you were eight."

Neville cringed. "I- uh- why exactly is that endearing?"

"Well, you dum-dum, you stood up a second later with the brightest smile on your face, apologised for falling, and kept playing with me for the rest of the day. Do you know how many stuck-up ponces I've had to deal with who would throw a hissy fit over that sort of thing alone? And yet here you were, laughing your pain and embarrassment off and still playing with me. You know, you're a lot braver than you give yourself credit for."

Neville blushed again (he seemed to be doing a lot of that recently, he realized). "You know, I don't think I've, uh, seen you since-"

"-Summer before we were first-years, yeah. I just got into Slytherin, and you got into Gryffindor, and because of that stupid conflict between our houses you and I never really got around to talking again. But still, I watched how brave you were in fighting for your friends, and helping them behind the scenes, and I heard how hard you worked every summer from your grandmum — she's super proud of you, by the way. And every year, you were always this cute little kid, but I don't know, I guess something changed over the last year, and even though I still couldn't talk to you I still developed feelings for you. But now here we are, and I'm sure Potter and Daphne will work something out — because they're rather scarily smart when it comes to scheming — so we don't have to stress about being friends anymore."

"Tracey, you're giving me the feeling that you want to be much more than friends."

She gave him a smile. "Oh really? What gave it away? The fact I called you mine?"

"Tracey, you're clearly amazing and all that, but we haven't talked for four years, and what if we're not made for each other? What if we're too different?"

She frowned. "Well then we'll stop loving each other and go back to being friends, stupid. We just have to remember the one rule my father and mother always had before my mother died."

"And that was-?"

"We talk about every conflict we have. We don't let anything sit, and we never go a day without talking something through. I'm not saying we'll fit like a puzzle, Nev, simply that I think we'll be great for each other even through those conflicts and struggles."

"I- I-"

"...Unless you're not interested?"

"NO!" Neville himself was surprised at the force of his statement. "I just, this seems rather fast."

"Well, this is a fanfic."

"What?"

"Nothing. Keep in mind, I'm pretty sure my dad and yours had some sort of marriage contract set out for us so this would probably have happened eventually."

"WHAT!?"

"I know, right? Like, I'm glad you're you, because can you imagine me being contracted to someone like Goyle?"

All in all, Neville thought, he was taking this in stride. "Well," he managed to choke out, "I guess I'm glad it's you too. Though I think you're wrong about me. I'm not-"

She shut him up with a kiss on the cheek. "You just don't know your own potential yet. Don't worry, we'll work it out. You just need more confidence in yourself, you know? Let's start off with your potions work. You do know that you always start off well, right? It's only when Snape begins to attack you that you get nervous and mess up. So from now on, if you're feeling overwhelmed, just look over at me and calm down, okay?"

"Okay. And, uh, if you need any help at-"

"Herbology? Yeah, actually, that'd be great. I'm great at cursing people into being attracted to Venomous Tentaculas, just not great at dealing with the plant itself."

"Okay, well, here's the thing, see, the problem is that-"

CHANGEPOVCHANGEPOVCHANGEPOVCHANGEPOVCHANGEPOVCHANGEPOV

"-You're an absolute idiot."

"Well, I mean, I'm not denying that, but it's not like I'm useless. Plus, how come you made us wait at the dungeon stairs? Like, I know your common room is on that bare wall by the painting of the dragon with a frilly dress — which, by the way, is kind of creepy. Like, who wakes up in the morning and is like 'you know what a great thing to paint would be? A dragon in a frilly dress!'? Hey, what're you doing?"

Daphne had stopped in the middle of the corridor, and was staring at him with wide eyes. "You know where our common room is?"

"Oh, yeah actually."

"How?"

"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

"Try me, Potter."

"Well, me, Ron, and Hermione went to the girl's bathroom on the second floor every night back in second year in order to cook up a Polyjuice potion, which Ron and I then used to turn into Crabbe and Goyle — who we had knocked out — to see if Malfoy was the Heir Of Slytherin. Spoiler, he wasn't. Oh, and Hermione accidentally drank polyjuice with cat hair in it, so she turned into a huge cat."

"Come on Potter, seriously. How?"

"I told you you wouldn't believe me. Want me to swear a magical oath?"

"You do realize those so called 'magical oaths' you see kids our age making are complete bull?"

"Okay, well then how about I take you to the Chamber Of Secrets?"

Harry revelled in the girl's expression, enjoying every moment of it till she finally spoke. "Potter, I think you're a lot more fun then I gave you credit for."

"Thanks."

"I still hate you though."

"I would be shocked if you didn't."

"Well then, let us away to the Chamber Of Secrets."

Chapter Four

The next day, every being within the walls of the Great Hall were treated to a sight that was rarely ever seen — A Gryffindor and a Slytherin walked hand-in-hand into the hall together. For a couple moments, the rustle of voices paused, and then continued onwards stronger than before. Snape crossed paths and looked down at them as if a stench was rising up into his nose. "Ten points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor for this disgusting show of public affection." He glared at Neville, who for once seemed to not quiver before him, and then at Tracey. "Longbottom, Ms. Davis? Longbottom? You disappoint me."

"Well, they definitely haven't disappointed me," came a voice from behind him, and Snape whirled around to find Professor McGonagall behind him, smiling at the two students he had just been shaming. "Professor," he said, with a smile that was more grimace than anything else, "I was just correcting their-"

"Enough, Severus." Said McGonagall. She continued beaming at Tracey and Neville. "Twenty points each to Slytherin and Gryffindor for an excellent show of interhouse friendship."

She gently tugged a snarling Snape away, and Tracey and Neville sat down together at the Gryffindor table, looking up to see the rest of the table staring at them with wide eyes. Finally, Fred and George stood and bowed to Tracey. "Any lady who shames Snape and brings Gryffindor ten points-" began Fred, "-is one we shall honor till the day we die," finished George. They sat back down, and dug into their food with gusto. Everyone else at the table seemed to shrug. If Fred and George were going to accept this girl, they might as well do so. She was a Slytherin, but Snape had just gotten a smackdown by McGonagall thanks to her, so they were willing enough to welcome her.

Harry and Daphne, on the other hand, came into the hall just like one might expect a Slytherin and Gryffindor to do so — aggressively attacking each other. "Well," Harry was saying, "if Westley could beat the Fezzik, so could Inigo."

"Fool," scoffed the girl. "He only beat Fezzik because Fezzik forgot how to fight one person for a little bit."

"So? Inigo is fast, slippery, and would have a sword. You stick your sword through someone's jugular, they tend to die no matter how big they are. I would know."

"You're an idiot," harrumphed Daphne.

"I don't see you proving I'm wrong."

"Oh screw you, Potter."

"That is kind of what I'm trying to get you to do, yes. Though I'd rather just kiss if that's okay with you."

Daphne looked like she was going to slap him, but rather than doing so she stomped her foot, flipped her hair over the shoulder, and marched off to the Slytherin table, where her classmates awaited her. A durmstrang boy looked over at her, but she snapped something at him and grumpily grabbed a piece of bacon, stuffing it into her mouth and flipping Harry the bird. He laughed and went to sit at his table, where he found (not really to his surprise) Neville and Tracey seemingly joined at the hip.

"So, you two worked something out huh?"

Neville smiled sheepishly up at him. "Yeah. Tree is great."

"Tree?"

Tracey groaned. "I thought he'd forgotten that nickname. People used to call me Tree because of my name, and how fast I could climb anything that WASN'T a tree."

Neville pressed a kiss to her cheek and squeezed her shoulder. "You know I don't mean it meanly."

She grabbed his chin and kissed him full on the lips. "I know you don't. Now, we have herbology next hour so hurry up and come help me study."

"Yes ma'am." He grabbed a piece of toast, and standing up made to move after his new apparent S.O., shooting Harry an apologetic glance. "Sorry man, but duty calls."

"I heard that!" Called Tracey. "I'd BETTER be more than duty to you, Mr. Longbottom." A panicked look came over Neville's face, and he rushed off to fix the disaster he had caused, leaving a smiling Harry behind. Harry sat down, and found Hermione and Ron with dumbstruck expressions on their faces. "Blimey, Harry," said Ron, "has everyone gone insane today?"

"Oh, so just because a Gryffindor and a Slytherin-"

Ron went red. "Nooooo, none of that! Snakes might be a pain, but they're just, I dunno, kids, right? What I mean is like, well, that's Tracey Davis and Neville Longbottom, mate. You realize Tracey Davis is like, in the top ten of every boy at this school right? And she goes off with Neville?" Hermione opened her mouth to chastise him, but he hurried on, saying "And it's not like I'm jealous of Neville, I'm really glad for him, it's just like… who would have ever thought Tracey Davis would go for Neville?"

Harry decided to think about it objectively. He shrugged, giving Ron confirmation. "I mean, I guess you're not wrong."

Hermione looked like she was about to go into a diatribe the likes of which were only seen in her rants about the liberation of House Elves or the subject of Divination, but contained herself quite handily (Harry really had to admit he was impressed by her self control). She just sighed and put her head into her hands. Ron, as usual, completely misunderstood the source of her frustration. "It's okay, 'Mione," he consoled her, patting her back, "You're in the top ten for a lot of guys too."

Harry snorted. "Ron, pal, I don't think her anger is because she's not in the top ten, but because there's a top ten at all."

Hermione looked up. "Yes! Exactly! It's sexist and objectifying!"

Harry glanced over at her. "Look Hermione, I agree with you… but are you seriously telling me you girls don't have top tens too?"

Hermione flushed bright red and looked at her plate. "We're not talking about that," she mumbled. Ron and Harry high-fived and laughed.

"Look, Hermione," said Harry, "Sure, grading people based on appearances is messed up, and maybe people should stop, but I'm beginning to suspect it's an innate aspect of humanity. I mean, I can like one person better than another who's more attractive, I just happen to recognize the other is more attractive, you know?"

Hermione's desire for rational logic seemed to be warring with her desire to yell at the both of them. To Harry's deep, deep relief, her logic won out. She merely sighed, looked at her food, and stuck a piece of bacon into her mouth. "I may hate what they're doing to the house elves here," she grumbled, "but they sure make the bacon right." That being said, the three stood up and got to class.

They didn't see the eyes of the French and Bulgarian champions following them as they left.