HAPPY HALLOWEEN, PEOPLE 3

Virtual candy for everyone, thank you tons for the feedback!

To Midnight Runner: Tom doesn't necessarily have to turn out the way Voldemort did. Theoretically, he could, but whether it happens or not is a different matter. I'm not pretending to know too much about psychopathy, but I think some sort of potential for it exists from very early on, and just kind of snaps at some point. It's not just about the person's experiences- I mean, Harry had as bad a childhood as Voldemort, in canon, and didn't decide to become a mass murderer(obviously your average person wouldn't turn out quite like Harry either, but not every person in the world who has suffered is a jerk, much less a psychopath). But my source is google search, so I may very well be wrong.

To Guest: Thank you, I hope the chapter is satisfactory.

Disclaimer: Still not Rowling. Still don't own Harry Potter.

Their first two months at Hogwarts passed before Harry could even fully accept that the school year had actually started.

Harry really, really liked being at Hogwarts.

When the day was sunny and he had free time, he liked going for long walks and exploring the landscape around the castle; when it was windy or rainy, he liked to sit in the common room, curled up in an armchair next to the window and watch the creatures that lived in the lake.

He liked taking his breakfast, lunch and dinner in the Great Hall, chattering with the other Slytherins and trying foods he hadn't really known existed before- bread and cheese was as good as it ever got in the orphanage.

He liked learning about magic, and even though he wasn't very studious like Tom was, he liked his classes for all the new information they gave him; and even though he was also not a smug git like Tom was, he liked being good at them, because it was the first time he was good at something.

He liked his classmates too, more or less, even though some got really tiring with their narrow-minded ideas on blood purity and the like, or even with how their main concerns were Quidditch and the House Cup. But he didn't mind the latter, most of the time- he was genuinely happy that they could afford to have such minor concerns.

Most of all, he liked all the things he and Tom could do together; not locked in a small room and fearing the matron would find them and force them away any moment, or sneaking away for a couple hours during which they couldn't fully enjoy their temporary freedom, because it was just that, temporary.

He liked sitting together in classes and competing for top student. He liked studying together in the library. He liked discovering all sorts of things about the castle with his friend. He liked staying away late in the dorms, listening to Tom's plans.

He liked the freedom.

It was Halloween, today. He and Tom planned to go to the Feast just a bit late; with all the students in the Great Hall already, it was a perfect opportunity to explore the castle with no one distracting them, or seeing them in places they probably shouldn't be.

It would have worked, too, had they been the only ones with this idea.

Harry's fists clenched and he gritted his teeth as a group of fourth year Slytherins cornered him and Tom in an otherwise empty corridor, unpleasant smiles on their faces.

He wanted to panic, and curse loudly and search frantically for an escape, but he didn't. Evening his breath, he forced a blank look on his face. Tom's expression was similar, though he seemed more relaxed, with a small smirk on his lips.

Harry saw right through it.

In his friend's seemingly calm eyes, he saw the same realization he himself had come to: they couldn't win or get away from this.

They were outnumbered, their opponents much older, much more experienced in magic than them- skilled or not, Harry and Tom probably were no match.

He also saw, startled for a moment, that his friend's panic was greater than his own. But then he understood. Tom didn't care about the pain whatever curse was thrown at them, not really, but about the humiliation. The fact that everyone would then know they were not invincible.

His hands trembled in silent rage. Well then, at least he'd make sure the school also knew that going against them didn't come without consequences. They'd lose, he knew it, but he was hell bent on ruining the others' victory as much as possible.

"Well, well," one of them drawled, twirling his wand in his hands. "If it isn't Slytherin's mudblood and his faithful dog, the little blood traitor."

The insult didn't sting- Harry didn't care about the blood purity nonsense, and being called Tom's dog was laughable, since Tom genuinely disliked dogs.

But it hurt Tom.

Harry could see that clearly, even as his friend laughed at them coldly and gave a mocking reply- at the word mudblood, Tom's face twitched in loathing and disgust.

Tom was hurt; his smug, arrogant, confident, self-assured, always composed, majorly apathetic friend was hurt.

NO ONE WAS ALLOWED TO HURT TOM.

His hand slipped into his robes' pocket and his wand was pulled out, aiming at the boy's chest. Harry mentally repeated the worst curses and hexes he knew.

Had they hurt him, Harry might have been able to let it go, forgive and forget. He wouldn't fight back more than necessary for self-defence. But now? Now they'd hurt his best friend, first friend, only friend, and Harry would be damned if he let them get away with it.

"Easy," Tom hissed at him, in the snake-tongue only they could understand. "Let them shoot the first curse, to make it perfectly clear we were in the right."

"Being in the right hardly justifies what I want to do to them," Harry hissed back. He almost laughed with how Tom was always the voice of reason, even like this.

Despite the tension, Harry saw a momentary, very pleased gleam in his friend's eyes.

...And the others had taken a small step back, watching them with wide, confused, fearful eyes.

It took Harry a moment to realize what had frightened them, but when he did, a wave of newfound hope rushed through him, because perhaps they could win this, after all. If they could keep them confused and hesitant for a bit longer...

"I-impossible," another one, the only girl in the group, spluttered, "The filthy mudblood can't be speaking parseltongue! It's a trick, it's..."

But Harry and Tom hissed in that language again, and the others's confidence seemed to crumble, if only a little.

Loud footsteps echoed in a nearby corridor, followed by an irritated shout of, "Come on, I refuse to be late because of you!"

The boy who had spoken glanced towards the noise, and hesitated. "Another time," he murmured finally, and the group turned to leave.

Seconds later a Ravenclaw girl and a Gryffindor boy came into sight, the boy being dragged towards the Great Hall by his tie. They hardly paid Tom and Harry any attention.

Harry released a shaky, relieved breath, closing his eyes.

Much as he wanted to hurt them, he'd rather do it under circumstances that favoured himself and Tom more. For now, it was definitely a good thing that the fight was avoided. Revenge could wait.

They spoke nothing of the incident, just followed after the other two, heading to the Great Hall themselves. It was beautifully decorated for the occasion; with human-sized carved pumpkins floating above the tables, bats swarming near the roof, and black cauldrons full of sweet treats added to the usual dishes.

He didn't enjoy a moment of it.

He was tense, eyes flickered across the long Slytherin table, trying to pinpoint where the group from before was seated, but both to his relief and (slightly paranoid, he admitted) worry, he couldn't spot them. He was certain this was far from over.

But more than them, his attention was focused on Tom, whose posture didn't relax, whose eyes remained harder than he had ever seen them before.

Harry felt hollow.

Dorea had just been minding her business, really, choosing to stay in and study instead of joining the other students in the Halloween Feast, when a group of fourth years rushed in; three boys, who quickly withdrew to their dorms, and a girl, who fell into an armchair heavily, looking pale and shaken.

She barely knew the girl, had only talked to her once or twice...but with an entrance like that, she couldn't help being intrigued, and the other hadn't needed much coaxing. Currently, she was sitting with the girl near the fireplace, listening to the most curious tale she'd heard in a while.

Harry didn't know what was wrong with Tom.

He was downright furious with himself that he couldn't figure it out, and even more so that he hadn't noticed right away. He should have know, immediately. He should always know when something was bothering Tom- anything else was unacceptable.

His friend was being snappier than usual, and he spent a ridiculous amount of time in the library. As he was snappy and studious to begin with, it was no wonder (even though still unacceptable) that it took Harry a while to notice the difference.

But Tom's irritation was centered around certain things, like comments on his blood status (which were getting more pointed as time passed), and his studying in the library had nothing to do with their classes. He was searching old school records, old newspapers, and so on.

Harry just didn't get it.

What was the other looking for? Logic suggested he wanted to find information on a person or group of people, but who and why? And why do it alone, not asking for Harry's help?

"Bloody hell, Tom," he murmured, sitting in the table next to his friend. He had fallen asleep over the various papers he was reading. Even in sleep, he looked anything but relaxed; he was clearly stressed and overworking himself. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong? Why don't I know what's wrong?"

It was past curfew, and Harry had come to get Tom back to the dorm, but seeing the other like that, he couldn't find it in himself to wake him.

Options, options...

He was shorter and smaller than Tom, there was no way he could physically carry him. There was also no way he could call for help, because if Tom ever found out, he'd hex the living daylights out of him.

Shrugging, he cast a levitating charm and dragged his now floating friend to the dungeons. Ending the spell, he watched the other fall on his bed with a soft plop. Tom murmured something incoherent, and Harry found himself smiling. His friend could be awfully cute like that, even if he was a stubborn idiot.

"Good night, Tom," he whispered with a goofy grin, pulling the covers over the other.

He headed to his own bed, shaking his head. They'd have to have a long talk in the morning.

When Harry awoke, he was neither surprised nor impressed to find that his friend was already up. And fuming angrily. He decided that Tom was most definitely not a morning person, no matter how early he insisted on waking up.

"Morning," he greeted with forced cheer.

"Morning to you too, sleeping beauty," Tom sneered, and Harry really didn't think he had much right to call anyone that, considering how adorable his friend himself was while asleep.

"Good thing you're an early bird," Harry chirped, glancing around at his sleeping classmates. "Might as well get this over with before breakfast. Tom, what he the hell is going on?"

Tom blinked, in a way that would have been completely innocent if he wasn't, well, Tom. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I take it you brought me back from the library?"

"Well, obviously. Any specific reason you practically live there?"

"You know I take my studies seriously," Tom said dismissively, getting up and preparing for the day.

Harry followed suit. "Other than that?"

"Nothing I'm willing to share."

He fell silent at that, not knowing what he could possibly say that would counter that. If it wasn't a case of Tom being too stubborn and prideful to tell him, but simply not wanting to...well, he'd have to deal with it. He felt stupid for assuming that just because he didn't see reason to hide anything from Tom, his friend would do the same.

They left the dungeons, soon arriving to the Great Hall for a very early breakfast. The charmed ceiling above them showed a sky that was still dark and grey, but whether that was because the sun hadn't risen yet, or because the weather was just shitty today, Harry didn't know. He poked idly at his food, all appetite gone.

"I wasn't aware," he started carefully, "that we'd started keeping secrets from each other."

Tom raised an eyebrow, calmly taking a sip of his tea before bothering to reply. "Everyone has secrets, Harry. You do, too."

"None that I wouldn't tell you if you asked," Harry said instantly, though he immediately regretted it.

It was true enough, of course, but Tom might take this as an invitation to start asking for all sorts of information just to test that, before maybe telling Harry what was bothering him.

"Well," his friend countered, expression softening a bit, "you can't honestly expect the same amount of stupidity from me."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "True. And exactly because unlike me, you are not stupid, I can expect you not to exhaust yourself searching for whatever the hell it is you want to find, when you could have it done twice as quickly if you'd let me help!"

"Let it go, Harry. It's nothing you should be concerned about," Tom said tiredly.

"I decide what I'm concerned about, not you," Harry snapped. "And seeing my best friend closing off and working himself to exhaustion, well, excuse me, but yes it bloody well conce-"

"I'm researching my heritage."

Okay, that was not what he expected. "...What?"

"You heard me. Now quit gaping, it's unbecoming."

Harry blinked slowly, averting his eyes to the table while he tried to comperhend this. Merlin, he had been less puzzled not knowing.

"Thank you for telling me," he said quietly. "Why, though?"

Tom flinched, uncomfortably. "Why do the research, or why tell you?"

"Why do the research," Harry clarified. "As for the latter, it should be more like why didn't you tell me earlier, but never mind that."

Taking a quick glance around and making sure no one was listening, Tom lowered his voice to a whisper, and said, "I have no intentions of waiting for Halloween to repeat itself. I'm going to resolve the matter of me supposedly being a..." He paused. "Clearly, it's invalid. So like I said, I'll resolve that matter once and for all."

Harry would have argued and snarled at that, because it didn't make any difference whether it was valid or not, if his friend didn't look so tired.

He nodded. "Okay. I personally find this ridiculous, and you're the most amazing person I've ever met- or will ever meet- regardless of who your parents were, but okay. If this is important to you, we'll find out."

Is it just me, or do bad things always happen to Harry at Halloween?

Though the chapter wasn't as focused in the celebration as I originally planned, but well. Next time. And yes, by the way, Harry has an insane amount of luck and I intend to fully take advantage of that.

What d'you think?