Sunday was a lazy day, or at least that was how Ron Weasley, who never ever did his homework, thought of it. Harry was encountering this view for the first time - even Dudley (under Petunia's watchful eye) had done his homework, if rather quickly and slipshodly (and, truth be told, he wasn't terribly good at it in the first placpe). But Ron? All Ron wanted to do was play chess, or go outside and skip stones (not into the Squid!). After about twenty minutes of this, Harry found himself bored enough to be practicing spells in his mind.
"I'm not feeling well." Harry said, doing his level best to turn green (not that he'd ever had need of this particular trick, before, so he hoped for the sake of Harry The Hero that it would work), and quickly stumble-running back inside. Behind him, he heard not-particularly-cruel laughter.
Once inside Hogwarts Castle, Harry's entire demeanor changed, as he slid into an alcove, hurriedly tapping the three stones that would allow him access to the dungeon. There were benefits to thorough research, particularly in a honeycombed place like this one. Stepping into the secret staircase, Harry Potter sneezed, tucking a hand up inside his robe to get a hankie, to wipe his nose. He didn't want to look like Ron.
This meeting was important, after all.
Harry hoped he wouldn't be late. He made it down to the bottom of the stairwell, disengaged the lock and slid out, remembering to close the wall-door. Now in the heart of the Slytherin dungeons, Harry whispered a notice-me-not spell, and hoped it would work. Well, he supposed it ought to, on first years. Apparently the higher your magical ability and skill, the easier it was to notice the glaring beacon of the spell.
Harry was just late enough to be wondering if his conversational partner had left. Harry came to the middle of the crossway, dismissing his spell and turning around. Out of the shadows, Blaise Zambini strode, his black face having bled into the darkness. The deepbrown eyes looked Harry up and down, and finally nodded, "I think you could be useful, in a pinch."
Harry shrugged, affecting a bit of false modesty, "I'm quicker than I look, and I can howl when needed." Harry tilted his head a bit, "Or keep quiet, if that's what you need."
The Slytherin smiled, his white teeth flashing out of his dusky face. "Then what do you want?"
"Like for like. Next time I leave a detention, I want you to take my tie, and run like hell for the main staircase from the dungeons." Harry Potter said, his manner deliberately blunt and Gryffindorish - or at least so he hoped. Nobody in Gryffindor talked about how to deal with Slytherins (in fact, he suspected that you'd have to hogtie Ron to get him to even be polite).
"And for this, you'll do me a favor?" Zambini eyed him skeptically.
"Something mildly dangerous, sure." Harry Potter said, "Consequences limited to a drubbing," And then Harry smiled, and it was a warm and cheery Gryffindor smile, "You'll be reimbursing me for loss of use if I break any bones, or am otherwise bedridden."
Zambini eyed him up and down, and said, "You could come in handy, I suppose. You have yourself a deal."
[a/n: This took more words than expected.
Up Next: A broomstick!
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