Harry Potter was continually amazed at what he was able to find in the Hogwarts Library. Of course, he had to be careful when he was in there - too early an Madame Pince would notice. In the middle of the day, well, Granger might notice, or half a dozen assorted Ravenclaws (mostly third years and above, but He was HARRY POTTER, and thus noticeable even though he was probably the smallest child at the school. Well, that and his unkempt hair, that stubbornly stayed in a squirrelsnest configuration).
His best bet was to wander in somewhere near dinnertime - even Granger tended to remember to eat, and Harry was skilled at squirreling away food licketysplit. He could stuff his face in seconds, but it was quicker still to use the pockets in his robes - a few slices of bread here, a dash of fruit there.
He needed to find a decent nook in the library - having spent most mornings in the Gryffindor common room, he hadn't nearly as much experience here. All he wanted was a place he wouldn't be noticed by browsing Ravenclaws. Eventually, having gone through about half the library, he settled in a corner that had dusty books all about. He noticed they were on fashion and palimpsets, a strange and yet appropriate pairing.
Harry had the books he wanted already, of course - lovely, dark and deep books that spun out the effects of their spells and potions at length. One part fantasy, one part wish-fulfullment, Harry was looking intently for something that he could pull off - and most importantly, not get caught.
Somehow the Weasley twins were managing to prank people - and a lot of their mischief involved eating or drinking something in the Great Hall, so he could likely bribe the way they were doing it out of them.
And, oh! The dark potions spelled on the page! Mind control, lust, greed, even pride. There were ones that were... lighter, ones that would merely poison, or scald, or freeze. But Harry? Harry wanted to make these bullies pay, and to do that they had to lose control. They had to be just as Harry was, a small, frightened beastie without knowledge of why or more importantly how, they were in danger.
Fear. Fear was what Harry wanted. He started to read about a potion that guaranteed the drinker at least ten white hairs... even for a babe of eleven.
Yes, this would do nicely, Harry thought, bookmarking the page and reading onwards.
Harry had a target already picked out and everything. The middle girl, not the eldest, not the most powerful, not the weakest, either. That one, the most ordinary girl there. Not the hated one, or the well-liked, just an ordinary Slytherin.
[a/n: um. so Harry's not exactly the type to take bullying lying down.
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