Dying is Easy, Living is Harder
Dying is easy, Living is harder by Pseudonymous Entity
Summary: What if Harry saw coming to Hogwarts less as an escape and more as an opportunity to change his life? What if he chose Greatness over Friendship?
Characters: Harry Potter [Main POV]
Warnings: I laugh in the face of canon
AN: Chapter two.
Ever Yours, Pseu
"It does not matter how slowly you go, as long as you do not stop."
-Confucius
Harry somehow made it through the rest of the week in one piece.
At dinner Thursday evening he found himself sat at the Slytherin table doing everything possible not to slump in relief. Between Finnegan's mischief and the constant odd verbal interactions with Davis and Nott, Harry was quite ready for the week to be over. He took a large sip from his goblet and allowed himself a quiet sigh. If he could only make it back to the common room and shut his curtains he could finally be alone.
He had learned more than how to turn a matchstick into needle that week. He'd learned other, more important things. Trickier things.
His classmates and housemates were all of them arranged in various groupings according to year, the youngest down toward the staff table and the eldest closest to the doors. Whether it was so the older more experienced students could protect their younger schoolmates or so the most valuable and already trained students could escape the great hall the quickest, Harry did not know. He daren't speak his ponderings aloud either.
Mingled within the general year grouping were smaller, mixed groups. There was a rhyme and rhythm to the way the seating arrangement worked and what it meant. Because yes, just where you are sitting can tell other people information about you. A 2nd year normally wouldn't be found sitting with the fifth years. Why would they? There was nothing -usually- a second year might now that a fifth year wouldn't. They couldn't help explain their coursework or gossip about something that happened in class. But you might see a second year sitting beside a fifth year if they both played on the Quidditch team, if they were closely related, if their parents were good friends or allies and the elder had been tasked with keeping an eye on the younger, or if the younger had done something to earn the elder's favour or attention.
Even just among the year groupings there were smaller groups. Those who had formed friends tended to sit with one another. If two popular students in the same year were having an argument you might see students in their year sitting beside the student they sided with, or alternatively sitting farther away to present themselves as a neutral party. Honestly it sort of made his head spin. Harry only rested easy knowing no one much cared what the first years did as it was to be expected that they were finding their footing.
Still….
Harry reached out for his water goblet, using it as an excuse to flick his eyes forward and up. Across from him sat Tracy Davis and Theodore Nott. There was some space to his left and then Millicent, the tallest witch in their year with short dark hair. There was a space to her left as well and in front of her sat Daphne Greengrass, a blonde haired who always wore braids and a green beret she'd gotten last summer in Paris. On the other side of Daphne sat Parkinson. Harry could never remember her first name. Parkinson sat swinging her legs slowly, and was quick to flash a shiny white smile at people and tilt her head so her collar length brown hair slid to the slide in a glossy cascade.
To Parkinson's right was the last of the first years before the second years began. Close but not right beside Parkinson sat Draco Malfoy, his bright white blonde hair easily visible. He sat across from two wide shouldered boys. Crabbe and Goyle Harry thought. They didn't speak much.
Harry sat his goblet down and pretended to rearrange his silverware. He glanced to his right beneath his lashes. There two spaces away from Harry and right at the end of the table sat Zabini. The only thing Harry knew about Zabini was that everyone else avoided him, even the older students.
These arrangements only made the barest amount of sense to Harry. He knew they were supposed to be important he just didn't understand why. Why did it matter that Parkinson and Draco's parents knew one another well and this is why they sat near but not beside one another? What did it matter that Draco never sat on the other end of the table?
Mostly he just wanted someone to explain why Davis and Nott had attached themselves to him. Honestly he was pretty sure they sat across from him just to give everyone else something to talk about. Strangely they rarely spoke to him at meals or even to each other, though they did occasionally murmur something in one another's ears when there secretive and knowing glances weren't quite enough.
All of this watching and analyzing was exhausting.
As soon as he could do so without attracting negative attention Harry patted his mouth with a napkin and placed it on the table. He took his leave without a word to anyone. As he turned outside of the doors and started left toward the hall that would eventually lead him into the dungeons he heard muted footsteps behind him. Harry didn't bother to turn around and look. He already knew he would find Davis and Nott walking along behind him. Now, Harry still didn't know what to make of the odd duo. He was certainly more careful what he said around them anyway.
The first day of school he'd had to cautiously work his way through an impromptu study session where it became apparent both Slytherins expected Harry to help them with their charms work going forward. They had no way of knowing Harry had simply spent the night before practicing. He really didn't think he was doing anything all that impressive. He merely got the spells a little sooner than everyone else because he spent more time on them. Most of his fellow first years seemed to examined the spells presented to them with amused disregarded. Everyone in his year had grown up in a magic household and so the smaller spells weren't anything special to them. Whereas for Harry, even the smallest piece of magic was everything.
He had managed to get through the study session without revealing how little he knew and now it was an everyday occurrence. After morning classes and before they let him have lunch they held a small study session where Harry spewed everything he thought he remembered about charms and answered their questions. If he wasn't sure how to answer them he spent some time that researching and then gave them the answer the following day. Which he supposed didn't help to convince anyone he wasn't some sort of charms expert. Millicent had cottoned on for she had sat on Harry's other side in Potions that morning so she could slip a question about the discussion Flitwick held in class.
Then there was the Herbology Incident as Harry had named it in his mind. It was nice he supposed for people to think he was clever. Honestly though, how could go years working in your aunt's garden and not know something about plants? And though he didn't know anything at all about the magical properties of the plants it seemed entirely logical to him that the growing conditions, the soil and the amount of sunlight and water and so on would have a great effect on the end result when harvesting the plant. Unfortunately, it only drew more attention to him that he wasn't prepared for. He smiled briefly. Well, it wasn't all bad. The Herbology professor who was also the head of Hufflepuff house asked Harry to stay after class.
As he approached her she wiped her hands on the apron she wore over her robes. She gave him a smile he found himself returning cautiously. It turned out she chose one student from each year to be her teacher's assistant and help her with things like setting up before a project or cleaning up after. She had taken Harry around and shown him the green houses. When they got to the flower Harry had stared in a way that would have been embarrassing if there had been any Slytherins around to see it.
"Do you like flowers Potter?" He remembered her asking.
He nodded. "Yes ma'am. I do."
"Why not explore a bit? I have nearly any flower you can think of. Is there any in particular you like?"
He'd started to say it didn't matter before his mouth abruptly chose to say something else and what came out was, "Do you have any lilies?"
He followed her to a section at the far right feeling incredibly foolish and overly sentimental. She presented him with a colourful conglomeration. "I've got Liliuam Bolanderi, Lilium Rubesens, Wood Lily… Oh there's a Martagon Lily just there." She gestured at a collection of pink-red flowers with petals that curled under. Harry ended up spending his entire lunch hour staring at the flowers. When he'd gone to find her and thank her she'd given him a small booklet on flowers which Harry carried with him the rest of the week even though he only had Herbology the one day.
The wall slid away to reveal the calming world of the common room. It wasn't entirely safe there either, people were always watching of course. But Harry took advantage of being a first year and so unworthy of notice. He plopped in the nearest chair and let out a long breath. Tomorrow was the last day and then he could stay hidden in his dorm all weekend if he fancied. He could do this. One more day.
*HP*HP*HP*
Harry pushed his bookbag under his chair and sat down. He was the first to arrive and even the teacher wasn't present. Harry assumed it was alright for him to go ahead and sit since the door was open. Seamus was still eating breakfast when Harry left so there wasn't any point in looking for his arrival. The Gryffindor would sit beside Harry whenever he arrived. Harry wasn't certain when that had become the norm.
Not wanting to sit there doing nothing, Harry decided to pull out his bookbag and dig through it for his flower book. May as well do something productive while he waited. Harry flipped through for the page he'd left off on. In the Lily section of course. After all no one else would ever know the significance and so he could read it without worry someone would glance at it over his shoulder, surmise the reason and then tease him for it.
"…a widespread native region extending from Portugal east through Europe and Asia…"
Sometime later just as Harry was at a particularly interesting section he felt someone prod at his shoulder. Blinking, Harry shook his head and turned to his right.
"Studying Harry?" Seamus said. He turned his lips downward as if disappointed. "And here I thought being friends with The-Boy-Who-Lived would be exciting."
He rolled his eyes and smiled fondly. "I hate that nickname as you well know." Said Harry. "And furthermore, papercuts are especially vicious the higher quality the paper is. I risk accidental suicide through vein leakage several times a day, not counting the times I am doing so just for a class."
Seamus nodded. "Ah yes the much-feared papercut. I did indeed forget that risk."
Setting his book aside Harry pretend to sniff and tilt his head up arrogantly as Draco was one to do. "See that you don't forget it in the future. I can't have a forgetful sidekick you know. What if I require some important potion or enchantment to defeat an enemy and save the world but you've forgotten to bring whatever it is along or to look up the spell? Not very heroic to die just standing there."
"Not Heroic to depend on your sidekick to bring you your secret weapons either." Seamus retorted, setting his own bag aside and getting settled.
Harry waved a hand airily. "It doesn't matter as long as I pose heroically and the bad guy is defeated. That's all anyone will remember anyway."
Seamus nodded, suddenly more subdued. "Isn't that the truth?"
Suddenly the door shut with a loud thud. The entire room jumped. There at the front of the class stood a tall thin man in long dark robes. He stepped into the light and surveyed them. Harry was sitting up straighter before he realized what he was doing. His cheeks flushed but he didn't dare slouch. Something about the air of the man-made Harry feel like a solider being inspected by his general.
"I am potions master Snape and will be your professor for most of you until you begin fifth year, and for a select few I will continue to teach you into your seventh." Black eyes roamed the faces in the seats. Professor Snape stepped to his desk in long slow strides. He went on to call out surnames for attendance. Once that was finished he stopped and stood near his desk once more.
"Let's see where we're all at shall we? What am I working with this year….Patil! Common cold remedy?"
And so it went. He would call out a name at random and ask them a potions related question. Like the type of cauldron best suited to a long brew -one lasting two hours or more- versus a short term or normal range brew. Some of them were topics gone over or mentioned in their potions book. Others seemed to be asked to gauge the students ability to reason (a walnut or a steel stirring rod Mister Longbottom?) or their pre-Hogwarts knowledge on the subject (is it necessary to use gloves when brewing a fever reducer Mister Malfoy?). All in all, Harry was sort of fascinated.
"Finally….Mister Potter." Harry raised his eyes to meet his professor's gaze. The man studied Harry before asking his question, and the small Slytherin will his body not to squirm.
"What would you get if I asked you to add powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"
Asphodel. Harry knew this. "Asphodel is a type of Lily isn't it sir?" Harry asked first. No one else had asked any clarifying questions but Harry wanted to be certain before he answered.
Professor Snape gave him a small nod.
"Right. Well Asphodel is a Eurasian plant. It has long slender leaves and its roots are long and thin. Ii think you'd need a lot of them to get some powder. So, you probably would try to use as little powder as possible, wouldn't you? Because it would probably cost a lot, the roots I mean. Unless you harvested them yourself. I don't know what wormwood is. I do know that a Wiggenweld Potion also references wood, one that was thought to keep magic away actually. It also uses Asphodel." Harry paused, trying to remember everything he'd read. "Wiggenweld is a common potion and a quick brew. It doesn't use much Asphodel. An infusion requires soaking the leaves of the plant to get an extract of its properties. Infusions usually go along with long term brews. The only long-term brews I know of that use Asphodel are sleeping draughts." Harry paused again then nodded decisively. "Yes, since you're using the Asphodel in combination with the infusion of wormwood I'd say a sleeping draught."
Harry thought it was a good guess. All he had to go off of was what he'd read of his Potions and Herbology books and the flower book he'd gotten two days ago.
Professor Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry for a split second. Then he turned away and Harry wondered if he had imagined it. "I expect all of you to take notes on the discussion today and choose one topic to expand on. Bring out your texts and turn to chapter one page…"
*HP*HP*HP*
Harry fixed the strap on his bookbag. Walking through the halls of Hogwarts had taught him to consolidate his bookbag. It only contained what he needed for the day plus his flower book. It was sort of silly to carry it around all of the time but there wasn't anyone to call him out on it either. Massaging his shoulder Harry turned and came out into the entrance hall.
"Harry wait!"
Contrary to the request Harry merely slowed down. As he walked beyond the doors and down the steps Seamus fell in beside him. Together they made their way across the grounds.
"Ready for flying? I know it won't be as good as home, we can't even have a broom this year outside of class, but at least we'll get to fly a little." Said Seamus, moving his hands about excitedly. "Next year we're allowed to try out for the Quidditch team. Though the only position that will be open is seeker. Higgs is graduating this year. So unless one of the others completely fail their final exams we probably won't do better than reserve. Still, that means we get the uniform and can sit with the Quidditch team so that's something."
Harry sighed. "Yes Seamus, it would be something."
Seamus Finnegan was a huge Quidditch fanatic. He went to games with his mother and father and had gone to the World Cup last summer. Everything Harry knew of Quidditch came from the run-on passionate ramblings of Seamus. Mostly what he had gleaned was that for classes they'd sit on the brooms and do their best not to fall off. He was much relieved to hear there would be no balls flying around trying to prevent them from doing so, as was the case in the flying sport.
So Harry nodded and gasped in all the right places until they made it to the field where they were to line up. All of the first years took this class together. Gamely Harry allowed the exuberant Gryffindor to lead them to a spot in one of the lines. There were two facing each other with brooms places along the lines. Seamus to the spot to his right. The broom in Harry's chosen spot didn't look quite as beat up as some of the others. They probably went through a lot of wear and tear being the training brooms.
"Potter."
Harry turned, looking through the throng of students to find the owner of the voice. Finally his eyes set on a boy with white blonde hair watching him intently. Draco was walking toward him and Harry thought he might actually take the spot beside Harry before Davis and Nott stepped into the two to his left with a pointed looked in Draco's direction.
"Malfoy," Murmured Davis, running her fingers down her long hair.
"Lovely to see you as always." Said Nott.
Draco stopped in his tracks, silver eyes glancing between them. "Davis. Nott." He greeted with a quick nod at each. The blonde considering the two, his eyes flitting to Harry once. He made an aborted move as if he would continue walking, then he chose a place in the other line with a resigned expression. Harry turned to look at Seamus with a raised brow. He'd learned that trick early on, a way of asking a question without having to voice it aloud.
Seamus leaned close to Harry. "My, aren't we popular?"
Harry scoffed.
A whistle blew. "Line up properly. Everyone next to a broom. Quickly." A witch with spiked hair and yellow eyes ordered. The students all hurriedly arranged themselves to please. "Excellent. Listen up. I'm Madame Hooch and I am the flying instructor. Please note, this is an instruction course. It is not a venue for your show off for your friends nor is a training course for Quidditch. Any unsafe behavior will result in being ground for the rest of term. Understood?"
"Yes madame." They chorused.
"First we'll mount the brooms. In order of instruction. Order one, arms out above your chosen broom. In a firm voice say up. Begin."
All around him his classmates attempted to coax their brooms into obeying them. To his right Seamus put out his arm confidently.
"Up!" The broom rose and smacked into the boy's palm. Seamus shot Harry a smug grin.
Harry jerked his head up at the sound of another voice saying up. In front of him stood Ron Weasley. The redheaded boy from the train. Ron stood there with his broom in his hand. When he saw Harry looking at him he glanced away and shift on his feet nervously.
Harry swallowed. "Hi there Ron. No problem for you is it?"
Ron, who wasn't far enough away to pretend he didn't hear him, chewed his lip. "Yeah I'm alright. I've been flying with my older brothers for years now. I don't think they'd let me live it down if I didn't at least pass the flying class."
Harry frowned. Ron wasn't saying or doing anything wrong, but there was something off in the tone of his voice. It wasn't the same warm voice he remembered. Perhaps he was upset Harry hadn't sought him out?
To his left Nott put his hand out. "Up." When the broom merely gave a weak shake Nott grinned and shrugged. To his left Davis eyed him. She held out her hand and the broom flew right up into it. She turned back to Nott and tilted her head. Nott glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye and winked. Without a lick of shame, the boy bent down and picked up the broom.
Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing.
"Go on then Harry." Said Seamus. "Give it a go."
Harry looked at Seamus' expectant face and relented. He couldn't do worse than Nott after all. With only a little trepidation Harry held out his hand. "Up?" It came out as a question but the broom, to his surprise, rose steadily into his palm.
"Asking permission?" Nott and Davis, as Harry was becoming accustomed to, were watching him.
Harry nodded. "Of course. I'd never presume to order a lady to do anything."
Davis' lips curled up at the edges. "A gentleman Theo."
"I'll be certain to guard your virtue in two years' time," Nott said, eyes glinting. "Lest you fall victim to his charms."
Harry's cheeks went beet red. He could hear Seamus laughing at his expense. It turned out to be a very fun class, in Harry's opinion. Once she got them all sat on the brooms with no one falling off Madame Hooch had them lift off a few inches and practicing hovering in place. One exciting moment in the class was when a round faced boy's broom started lifting into the air without his permission. He was to the left of Ron and right across from Seamus. With an exchanged glance Harry and Seamus jumped out and grabbed hold of the end of the boy's broom, holding him in place until Madame Hooch could get him broom back under control.
With his feet back on the ground the boy gave Harry a shy smile. "Thanks. I've never been any good at flying."
"That's alright, we can't all be great. If we were there'd be no one left to cheer us on." Said Seamus.
Harry shoved his arm. "What he means is we all have things we're good at. It doesn't have to be all of the same things."
The boy practically beamed at Harry words. Suddenly Harry remembered him. "Toad." Harry blurted. "Er, I ,mean. Did you ever find your toad?"
The boy blinked. Then his eyes widened. "Oh cripes that was you? Yes, I did actually. I mean I may have lost him again afterword but I found him then too. He's been my pet for a while you see and Ii couldn't bare to bring a cat or something instead…." The boy trailed off.
It was silent for a minute in their section. "I've never had a pet or anything. Until I got my owl that is." Harry offered. "And this way you have something unique, so really I guess I'm a bit jealous. It's nice you get to have your pet with you."
"Better than mine anyway." Ron said.
"Scabbers isn't so bad Ron." Said the round-faced boy.
"You wouldn't say that if he were yours Neville. At least Trevor does things. Scabbers only ever lays there." Said Ron.
Neville. At least he had a name for him now. Class ended. Seamus walked Harry back to the castle. They had a little time until dinner so they went to the library. The good things about Seamus is that he didn't get too curious. Harry could sit opposite him with any book he liked and Seamus wouldn't question his choice. While his friend read various Quidditch books, Harry concentrated on wizarding history. He thought he was getting somewhere. He understood more now than he had in the beginning so he at least had some progress to show for his efforts. He'd taken to making notes as well. He put them in a folder labeled History of Magic and remained reasonable confidant no one would bother to steal it.
He was still a little fretful over Ron's dismissiveness. Then again, he supposed the other didn't have to be friends with him if he didn't wish to be. He felt a keen loss for some unfathomable reason. Like he had lost something valuable before he even had it. In another life perhaps, they would have made great friends. The best of them even.
Pushing it from his thoughts Harry read over his notes. He knew there were twenty-eight families or lines that were considered 'purest' among the wizarding world. He also now knew that he attended school with children from thirteen of those families. In Slytherin alone there were eight of them. The largest collection were the five families represented among the first years. He also knew that Nott was not only one of them but related to the wizard who literally wrote the book on it.
He new their were collections of families called Houses which could be Ancient or Noble or both. Potter for instance was a Noble House and rumoured to be descended from Godric Gryffindor. No pressure, Harry thought Wryly. According to the History of Wizarding Alliances most of the families and lines were related to one another through at least semi-close blood connections. There were many houses and not all of them belonged in the twenty-eight. The children of these houses tended to attend social events during the year with their parents and meet one another through them. Some even had arranged play dates as little children. Which would explain why everyone seemed to know everyone else.
It also meant Harry had to be careful what he said and who he said it to. He didn't have any of the connections the other children had. He smiled, though it seemed Davis and Nott along with Seamus were determined to change this. Even that Neville kid seemed okay. Harry hadn't had any serious social mistakes yet, maybe he could coast along long enough for him to actually know what he was doing.
Harry grabbed another book from the piled and opened it, quill ready to take down more notes. He was getting there. He was going to figure this out. Hell, with Davis and Nott keeping him on his toes he was bound to be acceptably competent by the time he finished his studies.
With this determined outlook Harry faced the next week of classes. He took notes, read ahead he night… He checked out extended reading on the subjects and terminology booklets. He helped in the green houses and managed not to fall off his broom in flying class. Flying came quite naturally to him, he was pleased to find. Ron continued to be distantly polite. Neville often spoke to him now. His last name was Longbottom, which Harry knew from his research belonged to the twenty-eight. Harry made passable potions and gave up altogether on not being impressive in Charms. It was so easy to him he couldn't bother trying to appear average at it. All it took, in his experience, was some dedication to the wand movements and intention and you were bound to get it right by the third try. The extra reading on how the movements related to sigils and runes also aided his understanding of their purpose in relation to the spell being cast.
Another week came and Harry was starting to feel pretty good about his place at Hogwarts. Davis and Nott weren't that bad once you got used to them. He did occasionally spy Draco watching him from across a classroom or hall but the blonde hadn't tried to speak with him again. His research hadn't yet revealed what was going on with that but Harry figured as long as no one threw hexes at anybody else he'd let it go. If Draco really wanted to speak to him he would find a way, Harry had no doubt.
That moment came late one night in early October. It was freezing in the dungeons but Harry had long since learned some warming charms and he hardly noticed the decrease in temperature. Nott was already asleep he surmised from the close curtains on the boy's bed. Harry had just sat down on his own bed and started removing his shoes when the door to the dorm opened.
Draco stopped at the door. Slowly he closed it behind him and padded across the thick carpeting to his bed. Harry felt silver eyes on him as he continued to remove his shoes and set them aside. Even as he set his bag aside and sat back with his chosen books in front of him he felt it. Finally, he raised his eyes to see the blonde watching him intently from his own bed.
"Malfoy." Harry greeted, careful to say the other boy's surname even though he'd already be given permission to use his first. That was before Harry upset him after all.
Draco blinked. Perhaps surprised Harry was speaking to him. "Potter." He said, after a moment.
When he didn't say anything else Harry went back to his books. He did not pull his curtains as he usually did though.
"You like potions."
Harry looked up once more. Draco was looking at the potions book Harry held. It wasn't part of the first year curriculum but it did go more in depth in the various tools used during potions and why. Harry lifted a single brow to ask why it mattered.
Draco pressed on. "I'm fond of it myself. I find it relaxing. It was one of the only things my mum would allow be to practice before eleven. Well basic shielding as well of course…."
Harry let the other boy ramble on. When Draco seemed to collect himself and remember the point to initiating conversation he quietly cleared his throat. "You may have noticed we're the best in our class at the subject."
Harry hadn't known that but he gave a short nod anyway.
"I had a thought it would be nice to work with someone during partnered activities who also liked the subject and knew what they were doing. Spend more time brewing and less explaining maybe." His cheeks tinted pink a bit but Draco didn't lower his eyes.
Harry felt his brows furrow. Then realization. He suppressed a smile at the look on Davis and Nott's faces the next time they had a potions class. "Would you like to partner with me now and then Draco?"
Harry noted belatedly he'd used the other boy's first name. Draco didn't appear to offense. If anything he smiled and his shoulders lowered as if a great weight had been taken off of them. He raised his chin and nodded curtly. "It's settled."
Harry had just started the next chapter when he heard a faint, "Good night Harry." Coming suspiciously from the blonde's bed.
Harry grinned.
Pseudonymous Entity
2018
AN: What do you think the interaction between Davis/Nott and Draco means? Any thoughts on how wizarding families and their status might affect Harry? Theories? Comments? Limericks?