***Howdy howdy - how are you doing?

Sossss guess what? I have officially finished planning basically most of the main plot points and a few miniscule ones for this story. I'm really bad at making chapters that have no real reason but I am trying to soften it up a little bit with some fluff pieces that would probably do the story some good with how dark it gets during 2nd year and beyond.

So I did a bunch of research on dyslexia and I'm tryyyying to make it seem right- it's hard for them to speak, spell, remember certain things, apparently, so that's something I didn't know before... I'm figuring it out as I go. And I figure when Ron get's stressed, it addles his brain and it get's even harder for him to speak and stuff. Or maybe when he's just super hyper and excited too. Idk- again figuring it out as I go... I tell you my plot is rubbish at this point.

...I'm gonna go back and edit it, but when that'll be I haven't a clue-***

Chapter 7

Alliances

Theodore Nott was for from an idiot; in actuality, he was quite smart. He wasn't anything special, with wavy brown hair and blue eyes, but he was intelligent, and he prided himself over it.

His father had taught him from a young age that Notts only followed those with power, and that they do not lead but they follow, and they reap the rewards that come from following someone powerful. It had been drilled into him by the time he could speak without the toddler lisp that all children had when they were young, reciting it dutifully every time it was asked of him.

And he was taught power. He was taught power in the form of always have one over every single person you made association with; having a plethora of curses ready at the tip of his tongue; in the form of a dagger strapped under his clothing; in the form of dripping blood and ancient sigils. He was taught power so that when he followed, they would know his worth and loyalty for them. His father made sure of it.

("The Dark Lord will be so proud when he returns, my son. You will be his most valued with your skill set", his father had said)

He was sorted a little before Potter had shocked the table into silence, he had been whirling with calculations and theories, wondering exactly what it meant that the Boy-Who-Lived was in Slytherin. He wasn't lucky enough to share a dorm with Potter, no he shared with Blaise and Crabbe, while Potter was with Weasley, Draco, and Goyle.

Draco had been incensed but just as curious, though he said nothing, far too busy securing his spot as the top Slytherin in First Year, not that he needed much work. Theo didn't have much association with Draco outside of the fact that their father's had met often, meaning that Theo had spent a few hours with him whenever they met, but that was as far as that association went. He was far more familiar with Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode, on a first name basis with Tracey Davis but she wasn't someone he talked with regularly.

The Greengrass' family was another one that he was unfamiliar with, though he knew very well that the eldest Greengrass daughter was very proper with an exceptional intellect. Parkinson was a tart, not that he ever voiced it, but she always had her face twisted as though she smelled something putrid and always gave her (unwanted; unneeded) input on matters that she had no business in.

But aside from those, he had no want to interact with the others of his year, more content to stay in the background as the Slytherin House attacked the shocking trio. It had been disappointing at first, to see them hurt and humiliated so easily, making him lament the unexciting show that was taking place.

Only once the Trio had begun fighting back did his excitement begin to rise again. Granger would curl her lip at those who called her a mudblood and recited a spell with an undertone accent of the rough North Slavic languages. Weasley placed pranks in the most genius of ways, not afraid to defend himself with hexes that caused Theo to wonder if he was as light as his family name. Potter was even more entertaining with poisonous eyes and sharp reflexes. And it continued to progress, they fought back with book from the back of the library and huddled gatherings in the cold corners of the common room where they had been sent to from their first evening in the Common Room.

(Theo never responded outside of an agreeing nod; this Dark Lord didn't sound all that appealing with the tales his mother had given him)

Theo had watched hungrily, waiting for the tipping point and they unleashed their anger on their assailants.

And long he did not have to wait.

Granger had been nearly killed in a girl lavatory and Weasley had conjured a sword to kill the troll and Potter had demolished some part of the Rowle family magicks. He knew that he had done something like that if Rowle's scream and burning Heir ring had anything to do with it; all in the very same night. Coincidences didn't exist in the Slytherin House. Not like that.

He'd found out that the trio did not take kindly to being attacked like that.

It had been subtle of course, pranks that had everyone thinking it was the Weasley twins, but it was Theo who saw Weasley tucking smelly potions into his satchel and muttering spells underneath his breath just before some Slytherin had their food explode in their face. And it was genius actually.

Slowly, it was ramped up before the attack on Jason Travers who had been bawling nonsense about a rotting corpse and long tunneled darkness and- Theo had found a spell that mimicked the exact same corpse that Travers saw.

Then it was Borgin and the fear spell that had her in the hospital wing for 2 weeks, recovering from the nightmares she had received. Then she had been spiked with a potion that caused her hair to fall out like string, bringing little strips of skin with it.

Almost like Granger's clothes.

Then there was Potter.

Potter, Potter who was the Savior of the Wizarding World, the Golden Boy of the Light, the boy who had made everyone's head spin by sorting into the Dark House.

Potter, who had stormed into the Slytherin Common Room, crackling with power and rage before tearing into the mind of Antonius Rowle in a flurry of vengeance. And he couldn't be stopped. He knew from the moment Professor Snape had walked in and looked at Potter with resignation visible in the creases of his face. And Theo had only been confused for a moment before he had learned. Potter was an Unstoppable Legilimens.

(Mother had always been right before she died. She said Father was a blind man and Theo had found her correct; not that he had ever doubted her)

Theo hadn't known whether to cry or laugh the moment the words had left his Head of House's mouth. Potter was an unstoppable legilimens with a heavy cloud of anger, Weasley was a certified genius in strategy and constantly underestimated {But not Theo; Theo recognized power when he saw it}, and Granger seemed to love researching in the back of the library with a clawing thirst for knowledge.

He'd told Blaise and Milicent and they had merely hummed. After Rowle though, they saw, and they knew he was right. {Why hadn't they believed him?} But still, he watched as the elder years of the Slytherin House began to finally notice the power within the group of three, slowly realizing that those who had crossed them would get their dues.

And really, it only served for more entertainment to see them falling over themselves to hopefully, futilely, try and lessen their dues.

It never worked.

And then there were those, the stupid, stupid, purebloods who would stand in front of them and demand something of them or try and rebuke the facts that had been laid out in front of them. Theo would silently sneer at them from behind his book on Mind Magick and watch as his entertainment overflowed like his father's goblet of sweet wine after a day of work.

Unblinking, he stared above the edge of his book, trying to find a name for the stupid 7th year who was standing in front of Potter, clutching his wand with a white-knuckled grip. 'Marius Andretti' was what his mind came up with, but he was sure that he had probably missed the mark. If he didn't deem someone important, then their name was as important as they were.

Andretti scowled, staring down at Potter, though Theo noticed that he didn't dare meet Potter's eyes. He smirked; obviously he wasn't willing to be put under his power, but he was stupid enough to still try to challenge him.

Granger was staring at him with an incredulous expression though Theo thought she looked slightly intrigued, but he was about 3 metres away, so he wasn't entirely sure. Weasley just stared at him with ill-concealed amusement and had set down the book he was reading in favor of watching the exchange between the first year and seventh year.

Theo glanced at the letters of his book, before looking back up with an intense thrill crawling into his bones. Potter stared at Andretti before giving a low hiss that sounded unlike any Theo'd heard before. Theo blinked and Andretti stumbled back, eyes wide with fear. A snake, long and bright, was slithering up his arm and Potter gave a cruel mockery of a smile.

-The hissing was Parseltongue; Theo knew it was-

-(Theo batted the thought away before his brain overloaded from the joy that piece of information brought)-

The snake shifted, the colors blurring and darkening and- Theo dropped his book, scrambling to the edge of the couch to get a better look at the King Cobra that was flaring its hood at Andretti. The Common Room was deathly silent, and Theo was trembling with the overwhelming anticipation at the scene before him.

"Potter..." The brave, albeit feeble, came from the crowd and a shorter-than-average male came out, a picture of hesitant courage. Slytherins aren't meant to be Gryffindors. The male, a sixth year it looks like, and nobody Theo had noticed before, came to stand slightly behind Andretti. His eyes flickered between the snake and Potter as though he didn't know which one was more dangerous.

A fool, Theo's mind whispered, anyone with eyes and a brain could see that Potter was more dangerous. Potter commanded the snake, Potter commanded everything right now.

Granger and Weasley had yet to get up from the couch but Theo say the wand in their hands, poised and ready for a fight.

The Slytherin-Whose-Name-Theo-Couldn't-Remember gave Potter a steady look. "Call your snake off."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't, you won't have a snake."

Theo wondered what possessed the Slytherin to think that was a good idea because Potter smiled, a smile that was jagged rocks and broken glass, and nodded. Then the snake, who had been still, struck faster than Theo could see and then snake was coiling itself around Andretti's neck and there were cries of panic and-

There was a quick flash of light and Andretti collapsed in a heap, the unnamed Slytherin stumbled back with glassy eyes.

Potter collected his snake and smiled serenely. Nothing happened, his eyes said, before he walked out of the room with Granger and Weasley beside him.

Nobody contradicted him; not even after he was long gone from the silent Common Room.

(Theo knew Power, he had Power, and he knew which Power he would follow)

(-)

There was something subtle in the Slytherin House when they walked in. Severus picked up on it immediately. The seventh, sixth, and fifth years sat down easily, but the fourth years drifted, the third years were marginally unsure, and the second years were sitting as far away from the first-year group as always. The first years, however, were an entirely other matter.

The little trio sat down in their usual spot, away from everybody of course, but the others packed in around them Draco on the opposite side but while also being the farthest away with Parkinson, Greengrass, Goyle and Crabbe around him. Bulstrode and Zabini had taken the middle spot that was selectively neutral while Nott had sat himself just a little off from them with a thinly veiled excitement and curiosity.

Theodore Nott, the son of Thaddeus Nott, was his father's heir in the most unsettling of ways. Thaddeus prided his son on excelling in physical combat, teaching him to survive on bare minimum which Severus, if Severus hadn't known how extreme, he would've thought it acceptable, and the future right-hand of the Dark Lord for when he returned.

His son was powerful, Severus could feel that much, but what he could see, told him that perhaps that boy had grown up with a bit too much harshness and training. The boy had a modicum of Occlumency but his exhilaration whenever the Trio got into an argument in the Common Room was palpable. The boy thrived in those situations, choosing the side that reaped the most benefits without making it obvious until he was sure that his side would reign as victorious.

And he saw the side-eyes looks that the boy was giving the Trio, understanding how his mind worked after his father raised him in such a way.

Severus glanced to the side, watching Dumbledore's face for any telling sings of disapproval or anger. He only spotted a tightness around his eyes and a slight press in his jaw but that was all he could spot from his angle.

"House politics, Severus?" Minerva's question was innocent but held a certain weight to it, that was unheard to her.

Severus gave a slight nod. "Partially yes. Our house is a bit more complicated than your house of brashness."

She huffed. "Rather straight-forward than the frou-frou politics of your house."

"If that is what you prefer, Minerva."

His lips twitched at her answering disgruntled look before zeroing in on his table when Theodore Nott scooted over to sit in front of the Trio. Potter tensed and Severus prayed that the boy did not do anything foolish with Dumbledore watching. It was only an hour till the Quidditch match and he did not need to worry about the boy falling off his broom and worrying over whether or not Dumbledore will do some senile thing in hopes of keeping his Golden Boy pure.

Severus did not think that the day would go back without chaos or trouble but with it being Harry Potter, what else should he expect?

Harry pulled the hole of his Quidditch uniform over his head, snatching his glasses up as they fell to hand at his chin. He nibbled on his lip and tugged on his gloves, walking out of the changing stalls and sat down on the side-bench as the rest of the team got ready. Flint came forward with his broom at his side with his beater's bat in his other hand, and Harry scrambled up as the rest of the team crowded around him.

"Now, this is the first game of the season, and it is against Gryffindor. I want everybody on their best game. We haven't lost a match in 5 years and I'm not ready to start yet. Bletchly, I expect you to keep the quaffles out of the goals and keep your head in the game. Warrington, you've been doing okay so just keep up yeah? Monatogue, Pucey, you are both exceptional chasers and I expect you to continue being exceptional. Reserves are ready, but hopefully we won't need them if you guys can play good. Potter!"

Harry started and stared at the captain with wide eyes. "Catch the snitch- Catch the bloody snitch or die trying alright? I expect good work from you otherwise you're off the team. Practices means nothing if you can't do shit during the real thing, okay?" Harry nodded. "Good. Now let's get to it!"

Harry gripped his broom tightly, a Nimbus Two Thousand from Professor Snape who had seemed very uncomfortable at Harry's repeated gratitude. Considering the fact that Harry had been ready to burst into tears when Professor Snape told him the broom was his, it would've been increasingly more embarrassing for both of them had the tears actually left his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he followed silently as the team walked out from the changing room. The crowd was cheering wildly, though Harry noticed it was really only the Slytherin House cheering for their own team, but Harry knew that the upper years had cast a Sonorous charm so that their claps and shouts could compete with the other three houses.

Madame Hooch was waiting, standing in the middle of both teams. The Gryffindor captain sneered at Flint to which the Slytherin just smirked, or at last that was what Harry saw from the angle he was at. "Captains shake hands."

The commenter, Lee Jordan, a friend of Ron's twin brothers, was introducing both teams and Madame Hooch motioned for all of them to get on their brooms. Harry centered himself and waited, buzzing with energy, for her whistle of blow. The quaffle was thrown in the air and her whistle went off; the Gryffindor Chaser, a female with long braided black hair and dark skin, grabbed the quaffle and shot off like a bullet.

Harry darted heaven-ward, angling his broom and pressing himself up against it.

"And they're off! The quaffle is taken by Gryffindor Chaser, Angelina Johnson- Excellent chaser, she is; rather attractive, too-"

"Jordan!"

"Sorry Professor- just stating the obvious y'know? Anyways-" Harry spotted Lee Jordan dancing out of Porfessor's McGonagall's reach, shouting into the mic in his hand.

And she's really belting along up there everbody with a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back ta Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Chaser Monatogue gains possession of the Quaffle and off he goes - Monatogue flying like an eagle up there- and he's gonna sco- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger. Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - just joking guys! - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes- she's really flying guys! like a' elegant eagle up there! - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina... Keeper Bletchley dives - Misses! and gRY-FFIN-DOR SCORES!"

The Gryffindor's cheer loudly and excitedly, competed with the moans and howls from the Slytherin House. Harry was startled by the impropriety from the normally uptight house, staring as the purebloods made vulgar gestures and were betting and doing all the things that were looked down upon when they were in the Common Room.

Harry did a few loop-de-loops, trying to shake the buzzing under his skin. Looking around for the snitch, just as Flint had directed him, he looked at every golden flash that he saw but most ended up being wristwatches or something of the like.

A whistling sound caught his ear as he dove to the side wildly, feeling immensely bored and he spun around only to miss and a Bludger that had decided to come pelting toward him like a fucking cannonball. Warrington slammed his bat into it harshly, making it fly back toward Flint who hit it in the direction of one of the Weasley twins.

"Ya good, Potter?" Harry nodded quickly and Warrington was off downwards back towards the game.

"Slytherin in possesion of the Quaffle- Chaser Pucey evades two bludgers, and he aims and- CHASer Bell! Speeding towards the ho- And Potter's seen the Snitch!"

Harry hurtled toward the ground, urging his broom to go as fast as it could. Wind swept past him as he flew at crushing speeds, staring at the little glinting gold object that was fluttering wildly in the air. Spindly wings rotated frantically as it flitted in the air, panicked almost like a live animal of sorts. The Gryffindor Seeker, Harry did not know their name, was neck-and-neck with him and he stretched out his hand a little more, urging his broom faster with a small burst of magic- just a little bit closer-

WHAM

Harry gripped his broom, his mind swearing loudly -fuckfuckf u c k- as a player in red and gold zipped in front of him, hurtling upward as the female, now that Harry could see them, came from below him.

The Slytherin's went wild, hollering obscenities as Madame Hooch blew her whistle. "Foul!", came her magically enhanced voice.

The Slytherin's got a free score and the game began again.

Harry huffed angrily, scouring the air for the golden gleam of the snitch. He looked over at the stands and saw Hermione and Ron huddled together in a thick oversized with a fur trim- having originally been Hermione's but she changed the color and enlarged it so that it would cover the two of them. A little jar flickered with a blue light, but Harry knew it was a fire that Hermione had conjured so that her and Ron would be warm on the stands. They had yet to master the warming charms that they had found in their book of house-hold spells.

He dodged another rogue bludger that had been beat his way as he swerved and looped around the Quidditch Pitch, waiting for the sunlight to hit the Snitch just right.

And then his broom lurched forward, startling Harry so much that he almost fell off his broom. He gripped the handle tightly, gripping it in between his thighs and locking his ankles together. It had never done that before during practice- it had never begun to try to buck him off because Nimbus Two Thousands' did not suddenly decide to try and buck off their riders like a wild horse or bull.

Harry tugged on his broom, trying to turn back towards the Slytherin goals- posts-, having half a mind to call Flint to get a time-out, only - his broom was completely out of control. It was not listening to him. He could not control it.

It zig-zagged wildly and lurched around violently, making swishing movements that nearly through him off despite his tight grip on the broom. His heart pounded against his ribs, fear slipping through his chest. His throat closed up like it did when Uncle Vernon got angry when he knew he was going to be punished, and he dug his fingertips in to the grain of the wood hoping someone would help him.

His magic gathered around the broom, and he tried to get himself to focus to maybe, hopefully, get a feel of the magic. Colors bled into his sight and he tasted rotten, angry magic that threw off his magic with ease. Soft purple magic, tasting like tart berries with a sweet undertone forced through the angry magic, trying to fit it but it, too, was overpowered.

Harry whimpered, feeling absolutely helpless without his magic working. Nobody seemed to have noticed the fact that his broom was trying to kill him, Lee was still commenting, - "Slytherin is in possession- Flint with the quaffle, passing Spinnet, passing Bell- Get hit in the face with a Bludger! ...hope it broke his nose - nev'mind- Only joking, Professor, really! - Slytherin scores!" The Slytherin house was hootin' and hollering but nobody was paying attention to Harry who was clutching onto his broom with all his strength, despite the tears of desperation in his eyes and the trembling in his arms and legs.

His broom twitched and jerked, pulling him higher as his mind went fuzzy with panic. His stomach lurched his breakfast as it began rolling over, shaking his around like a ragdoll. Tears slipped from his eyes, and he bit his lip hard, praying for someone to help him before he fell. He didn't think he would be able to survive a fall at this height, even with his magic.

"Oi Potter! What's going on?"

Flint was hovering below him, staring at him with increasing frustration. The burly 5th year came up only for Harry's broom to jerk forward, Harry sliding right off it with the force of it, only staying on by one hand. "I don't know! Don't come any closer!" A shriek came out of his mouth before he could stop it as he broom swung around wildly. Stop trying to kill me you animated twig!' screeched his mind. Along his an unintelligble panicked shout but Harry ignored that. "It jerks more when you come closer! Get Snape or something!"

Flint stared at him before narrowing his eyes. "I have an idea! Just try and hold on for like, 15 more seconds, yeah?" Without waiting for an answer, he zoomed over to Warrington, whispering to him before flying to the others. Harry grappled at the broom with his other hand, holding on with shaky fingers. There was a low commotion at the commenter's station, where the teachers were also seated but Harry didn't dare look over.

Flint came back over, parking himself right under Harry. "Drop! For a curse like this to work, the caster needs to be able to maintain eye contact! They can't do that when you're a beater!" Harry nodded and let go of his broom.

The crowd shrieked and he landed on Flint's broom before Flint was zooming through the air, and words met his ears. "Jump onto Warrington's broom, just in case, and then Monatogue's, Bletchy, then Pucey. Just to make sure that this fucker can't kill you." Harry nodded, pushing his shock back, and slid off of the broom only to land on another one.

It continued like that until Pucey landed on the ground, and Harry got off with quaking legs. Swallowing thickly, he watched at Professor Snape stormed over in a billow of black robes. He began waving his wand over Harry, looking worried though it would be mistaken as anger if it weren't for the low dip of his cheeks at the corner of his mouth.

"You seem to be fine Mr. Potter, if only a rather elevated heart-rate which is understandable. Now, would anybody please explain to me why my team's Seeker was attacked like that?"

"I am not sure, Severus. But perhaps it is best if Mr. Potter sits out? Obviously somebody does not want him to be playing."

Flint made a sound that would've been aggrieved had Harry not noticed the annoyance in his eyes. "I can't do that Headmaster- Higgs is currently indisposed as he had a meeting with his promised today. Therefore, Potter is out only available seeker."

Harry, seeing that Headmaster was obviously going to post-pone the game or some rot like that, spoke quickly. "I can ride with one of the other players. Flint said that a curse like that would've had to have constant eye-contact so I can fly with one of the other players and they're always moving so we can do that..."

He fidgeted under the stares of Madame Hooch, Professor Snape, and the Headmaster but Flint seemed to be considering it. "You could fly with Warrington, he's much lankier than I am, and it'll just have to be every man for themselves with Monatogue and Pucey- I trained 'em well enough I hope." Flint nodded. "That's a plan with me. 'Fessor?"

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and pinched his lips but nodded very reluctantly. "Fine. But, Warrington, do remember you are at the mercy of Mr. Potter, who I doubt will be that considerate of your stature while he zooms toward the Snitch."

The tall teen nodded and got on the back of the broom. "Potter, let's go."

Harry grinned and got on the front of the broom, making space for Warrington's arms to swing his bat. "be careful of my bat and the bludgers. Flint, cover us a little extra!"

The team flew up and the game continued with the excited jabbering of Lee Jordan.

"And the Slytherins made a unusual provision for Harry Potter after what happened to his broom!-" Harry kept his eyes out for the Snitch while listening for the sound of Bludgers hurtling through the air.

A small glistening caught his eye and he zeroed on a little object flapping through the air. Harry grinned, grabbed hold of the broom, and was hurtling through the air. Warrington was shouting curses above him, making Harry cackle in laughter to the creativeness of some of them. The Gryffindor seeker was a little behind them and Harry urged the broom faster, pushing bolt after bolt of magic into it to give it a little boost.

The Snitch twirled it's wings in a full figure-eight motion, trying to get away from the tips of Harry's fingers, with Warrington still shouting as the were rocketing towards the ground. Gold brushed Harry's fingers and he lurched himself forward, only a bit too much and he tumbled off the broom, gagging as something circular blocked his throat.

He gagged and pushed on his stomach hard, coughing as a little gold thing tumbled out of his mouth. The Snitch floated above his hand and behind him, Warrington roared with triumph. "POTTER CAUGHT THE SNITCH!"

Flint was howling the entire way to the Common Room, ruffling Harry's hair and crowing about his catch. Slytherin had won, 210 to 70.

Hermione and Ron had tackled Harry to the ground, and Ron was glowing about Harry catching the Snitch while simultaneously being a fussy mother about his health. Hermione had given him the jar of fire to warm his hands after they had begun turning red from the residual water and cold wind. Apparently the Quidditch Pitch, where the players were, had been laden with Warming Charms but the stand couldn't feel them, so they had to bring their own stuff.

The entire Common Room had somehow been converted into a party room during the 30 minutes that Harry and the team had been showering and traveling through the dungeons. Snacks and Food had been piled high on a table and music was blasted through the Common Room.

Harry had been patted on the back more times than he would've liked, tipsy teens shouting how good of a job he'd done, and he had packed himself in the corner of the Common Room where it was marginally quieter.

Ron and Hermione joined him, handing him a plate of treacle tart and a tall glass of punch. He sipped it lightly, while savoring the tart sweetness of the tart.

"You were nearly killed."

The quiet statement floated around them, and Harry looked at Hermione, who had shiny eyes. "Somebody tried to kill you, Harry. And..." Her bottom lip trembled.

"We're going to be better prepared next time."

Both of them looked at Ron who slid a book out his bag. Hermione gasped, recognition flashing in her eyes. "Ron?"

"I know a Ritual that'll help... it's the Aura Sight ritual but different. This is a direct link of Mage Sense, and it messes with your magic a bit so it only works if all the participants are willing. Are you?"

Hermione nodded. "I am."

Harry grinned. "O' course, Ron."

(-)

"Harry, you are trodding all over the back of my feet."

"Sorry- I can see where the edges of your feet are."

"Right in front of you?"

"Shush, Hermione."

"Both of you be quiet."

"Ron, you can't tell us shit. You're over here walking like a demon is going to come up on us."

"What do you think my brothers are? Angels?"

Harry sighed and didn't answer, squinting at the ground to try and spot the edges of Hermione's shoes.

They were attempting to find a room that was empty and not in use but hidden, so that they could practice their rituals and spells. Ron had already had a room chosen but it was discarded when he had gone in one-time and saw a couple in a rather compromising position. Therefore, they were on the hunt for another one a little bit before curfew, knowing that right now was the ideal time as most Slytherins wouldn't be out unless that had some midnight rendezvous that they needed to attend too.

They took another turn and Harry bumped into Hermione, getting a mouthful of hair which, he did not like at all.

"Why'd we stop?"

Ron's red mop turned around and blue eyes peaked over Hermione. "Er- no reason really. Just back up. We should use the next corridor."

Harry frowned but headed over to the next corridor, keeping an ear out for any noises. His magic was tingling underneath his skin, like it always was when he was trying to creep around, flexing and curling around Hermione and Ron to protect them as well.

While Professor Snape was teaching him how to form Occlumency shields, he taught him that Occlumency allowed easier access to his magical core which had already been easy due to his need for it at Privet Drive. The lessons, every Friday night at 8pm, were helpful with controlling his Legilimency, which had stopped acting up now that he knew how to control it.

Instead, with Professor Snape's help, he intertwined the strands of magic that controlled his Legilimency into his magical core, showing Harry how to do it without hurting himself. Harry had tried it and managed to do it marginally, but it was nowhere near the refined and delicate braiding that his Head of House had accomplished.

"-rry! Harryyyy! Harry, are you there!" Harry lurched at the loud whispers in his ear, swiveling around to see Hermione 3 inches from his face and Ron not too far behind her. "There you are. Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere important."

Hermione pressed her lips together but said nothing. Her brown eyes shone with suspicion, drowning in thick depths, but she stood up straight and turned around. "If you say so, Harry. Now, Ron, are you sure nobody will find us here?"

"Um, I'm pretty sure. Unless the twins pull their appearing tricks again, nobody should find us here."

"Hm, alright. So, what does the circle look like?" Harry clambered closer as Ron pulled out a thick tome with stray bits of parchment sticking out from it. It flipped open to reveal a Rune circle with ink markings- likely from Ron trying to memorize the correct way to do it. Ron took out another book and flipped open to a page filled with runic definitions.

"Okay, so this is the um, Rune Circle- this rune right here is Ansuz (ᚱ) or "Message." It can mean good advice, wisdom, truth, or inspiration. It is also linked with Revelation, signs, visions, insight, knowledge, and communication. This is key to allowing us to... connect, I think is the best word, to the magic. Um." Ron fidgeted slightly and peered at his book of Runes before pointing another one.

"This one is Kaunaz (ᚲ) or "Torch". It can mean knowledge, creativity, vitality, or energy. It is linked with Enlightenment, knowledge, comprehension, insight, illumination, calling, purpose, and idea. This is allows us to know or feel what magic is trying to tell us, if the Ritual works."

"This rune is Algiz (ᛉ) or "Elk". It can mean awakening or strong intuition. It is almost like Kaunaz, but different in a way. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it. It is linked to Protection, guardian, awakening, courage, defence, and instincts." Ron licked his lips and Harry waited for him. "I'm not sure why they would use it except for extra assurance that the ritual would work but I'll look into it more."

"And then there is Laguz (ᛚ) or "Lake". Laguz actually represents the element of water, well you can tell that from the name but uh-" Ron sucked in his bottom lip and squinted at the book so harshly that Harry thought he might need glasses if he didn't know that Ron had perfect vision. "Stupid floating letters- um it's tied to emotions, dream and intuition. It can be related to mysteries, secrets, the unknown, and the underworld. It can also mean a healing power of renewal, heightened imagination, and psychic abilities. It is linked to Intuition, imagination, healing, dreams, mysteries, insights, instinct, and knowing. It is called the mind rune because it is connected intimately with the mind; it is actually called the mind rune too, if you were too ask a runes master or look it up in a book of runes, because of it's connection to the mind. And that's why it's in the ritual- because of it's connection to the mind which is where the ritual focuses on, I think, because of the fact that that is where your senses are, so..." Ron went silent for a few beats, rubbing his arms while his eyes wandered around.

"So it focuses on that specifically, and Laguz is so important because it links with Ansuz to allow the magic to change with our senses, as Ansuz is the best rune to connect to magic. Kaunaz allows us to know what the magic is trying to tell us otherwise it's just looking, hearing, feeling, but not knowing anything so then it's useless basically. Um.." Ron groaned and rubbed his face roughly. "Gods, this is a lot. Uhh... Algiz is awakening, courage, defence dadadaablahblah here!- er- instincts! aha- er that might not be instincts... 'Mione, does that say instincts?"

Hermione peered over and looked at where Ron was pointing. "No, that says intuition, Ron; instincts is right here." She pointed to a word a little bit farther from Ron's finger and Ron's face flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh."

"Well you read better than I do without my glasses- if you asked me, they'd just be a bunch of fuzzy blobs," Harry spoke in joking manner, feeling a small sense of accomplishment when Ron snorted and his eyebrow quirked in a way that said he was amused.

"Yeah yeah- anyways, um, I was on... Algiz right?"

"Yes."

"Okay um... Algiz is awak-eninggg and courage and all that rot -letters stop moving- and that helps form your magic but I might be grasping at strings right now, I haven't down enough research probably." Harry frowned at the wince that ticked at Ron's cheek and ducked his head down slightly to try and get a good look at Ron's eyes as they were cast downward at the book splayed out to the side. Something was wrong and Harry wasn't at all sure what was going on.

A low whine came from Ron, who was rubbing his eyes and temples furiously. Hermione looked unsure as she whispered lowly to him, trying to coax answers out of Ron, who was staying stubbornly quiet but obviously in pain. Harry growled and hissed lowly, §Loki, can you sense anything from him?§

Loki slithered out and Harry held him near Ron who thankfully still had his eyes closed; He was still a bit spoked by Loki and Harry didn't want to worsen whatever was going on with him. §There is pain coming from him through it seems to originate from his head; his scent is not happy and he is shameful and scared.§

Harry frowned; that helped but also made more questions pop into his head. §Thank you Loki§

§You are quite welcome, Hatchling§

"Ron?" His name rolled off timidly, and Harry edged forward a little bit. "Ron? What's wrong?"

Ron still said nothing, in all honesty, he seemed to have gotten worse; he had curled up and Hermione was looking extremely worried.

"Ron please tell us what's wrong. We want to help; we're not going to make fun of you if that's what you thi-"

"It's what I know, Harry! Because I'm just so ficking dense that I can't even read a shitty book without my head because of some stupid nutters- no -nunders- that won't stay stall-still- Fuck! I can't say anythun- enithu- I can't say words prip-prop-" Ron whined and pulled on his hair harshly and Harry gently uncurled his fingers from his red hair.

Ron's bottom lip was trembling and he wiped his eyes furiously after Harry let go of one of his hands. "C-cant' say nothen' correctly watho- withat-" Harry pressed a hand to Ron's back and allowed him to lean on Harry.

"Calm down first then explain it to me, yeah? That might help some." Ron sniffled lightly but nodded, much to Harry's relief. Hermione was picking up the books, sliding everything into to the side before curling up with her knees tucked to her chest. Her toes were poking Ron's thigh as her she wound her arms around her legs.

Ron shuffled lightly, and fiddled with his fingers before looking up slightly. "I-i can't hm tolk-tik-taaallkkk proply' withat-owww-ttt s-own-din' it out." He spoke slowly as he pronounced each word carefully as though it wasn't matching up in his head with how he heard it. "ve never ben' able to write gud, a-an' it's- mum nev'r liked it and alwuys tells me tu um jus' stay silen' when I stert um, talkin' slow to make surr I soun' correc'."

Ron pressed his lips together and scrunched his nose as he talked, his words slurred and choked as a few tears trekked down his face. His hands were still shaky and Harry got the distinct feeling he was waiting for him or Hermione to just up and leave.

"I think you have dyslexia, Ron."

Ron looked up, a vague alarm on his face. "It's nothing bad," Hermione assured hurriedly, waving her hands to express it doubly, "One of my cousins has it I think too; she's always had a trouble reading and writing, sometimes with speech too but there are multiple therapies and helps for it. Professor Snape might know be able to help and I'll write my parents for some books and special papers for you."

"Oh... so I jus' have tu relearn how tu spek. Fin- Fun." Ron looked to the side dejectedly, and Harry puffed up.

"I mean yeah. It's like Professor Snape teaching me how to control my legilimency because I couldn't figure it out before despite having it for so long- or like when I had to go to summer school because I hadn't done so well in Science and Maths." Harry hadn't actually gone because Uncle Vernon would've sooner allowed Harry to eat the food he makes before allowing him to go to summer school and ruin his reputation. Apparently just because they tell everybody that Harry is a delinquent, he can't go to summer school. Harry never quite understood that because, privately, he thought that the reprieve from Uncle Vernon's meaty fists would've been welcome.

"Exactly! Or it's like my mother having me relearn French because I couldn't remember the basics! That is was mortifying situation, Ron. Or when I had to go to an event and I wore blue, when I really should've worn turquoise. Oh Merlin, I thought I was going to die on the spot." Hermione fanned her face in a manner most unlike her, pressing her lips together and exaggerating the tone of her voice.

Harry burst into giggles and Hermione gained a pleased look when Ron joined in the laughter.

"Now, we can continue with the Runes tomorrow and then since it'll be Saturday when we wake, we'll go to Professor Snape after breakfast. Most adults are less grouchy after they've had a cup of coffee in the morning. And Professor Snape really strikes me as a I-need-a-cup-of-coffee-before-I-can-deal-with-chaos-in-the-morning kind of person."

"Righto. And Ron, you don't have to censor how you speak or sound out the words. If you don't stress yourself out, I imagine speaking will be a lot easier." Ron stood easily, looking far more relaxed and his eyes were a lighter blue now that they weren't filled with shame and fear.

They walked out, with Hermione leading this time as they traveled to the dungeons, keeping an eye and ear out for any Professors, prefects, Filch, or Mrs. Norris.

The castle felt too silent and something felt off as they walked. Harry kept silent though, knowing he tended to be paranoid sometimes. (Always on guard; always be silent- pain always come if you aren't)

"Did you hear that?" Harry jolted at Hermione's whisper, growing as still as one of those statues at the church Aunt Petunia had taken him too one Sunday. He strained his hearing and his heart lurched violently at the soft padding of footsteps.

"Mew"

Ron sucked in a sharp breath. " 's." Harry was backing up before his mind registered it.

"Shitshitshit-" Mrs. Norris turned the corner and stared at them with yellow eyes. They gleamed.

"My pretty, where are you? Have you sniffed out some naughty naughty students again?"

"Mew"

"Run."

They were running down the hall with their feet slapping against the stone as they ran away from the caretaker and his student-sniffing cat. "This way!" They turned into another corridor and Ron makes a sound of relief at seeing a large set of wooden doors.

Hermione whips out her wand and it casting a spell before Harry can even think of it. "Alohomora." The doors make a sound and Hermione yanks it open, pulling Ron and Harry through the door. Harry hisses a low locking charm and releases a relaxing breath.

§Hatchling, what is the rotten smell? it is like that dirty thing your not-nest-guardian-nestmate brings around.§ Harry deciphers what Loki is trying to say with a practiced ease.

Aunt Marge and Ripper, her dog that hates Harry with a passion. A feeling with is reciprocated quite heavily.

§What are you speaking of?§

§Behind you hatchling.§

Harry turns and feels his knees go weak. It's a dog, a very big dog, with three head, sharp teeth, and it was foaming at the mouth. The sound that Harry made wasn't human, and it catches the attention of Ron and Hermione.

§Oh. That's what you mean.§

§Yes, hatchling, it is§

Harry wasn't sure if Loki meant to sound so exasperated but pushes away the thought. He can ask him about it later. Right now, they needed to get away from the dog.

Fingers fumbling with his wand, Harry backs away slowly, edging closer to the door while keeping his eyes on the dog. He hisses the unlocking charm and Ron is the one that tugs the door open this time. They run faster than they had with Filch, not stopping until Harry had hissed the Slytherin common room password in English but it sounded extremely close to parseltongue with his huffed breaths and heavy panting.

"What was that?"

Ron gave a uncommitted hum, flopping onto one of the couches. The few upper-years that were up eyed them but said nothing. "A magic dug."

"A cerberus, actually. Like Hades and his dog who guarded the entrance to the Underworld to keep souls from escaping."

A hysterical sound left Harry's lips and Hermione side-eyed him.

"A cerberus, a soul-guarding dog. Why am I not fucking surprised?"

"...did you notice the trapdoor?"

Ron looked up, suddenly more awake. "What?"

Harry whined. "I did not notice- I was too busy trying to make sure the soul-guarder god didn't fucking kill me!"

Hermione made a soft noise of validation. "True. But what is it hiding? What is it protecting?"

When Ron gave a shrug but his eyes lit up with interest, Harry knew he had lost the fight.

Author's Notes:

Did I switch the whole thing with the Gryffindor and Slytherin Match?
Yes.
Do I care?
No, not really.

Also, he's eleven people- Harry had to have been absolutely panicked when the broom scene happened because it was genuinely trying to kill him and nobody was noticingggggggg- it's not going to be 'oh my broom is trying to throw me off la-da-di' and all that rot - just noo ugh - Harry was scared and panicked and J.K did not do a good job portraying that.
But that's just my opinion!

...I'm forcing the plot to move forward and I've deviated from almost everything I've written down except for the main plot points... like this shit does not happen the way I thought it would...

This chapter likely doesn't make sense and there are a shit ton of mistakes probably- sorry for that- again no beta so I'm my own mistake catcher and I fired myself halfway through re-reading me already posted 3rd chapter.

If you have any ideas, see any discrepancies, have any inquiries, or anything of the like, please let me know!

It's midnight and I' tired (😩😭😅)so good night- I hope you enjoy the rest of your time awake!