Whispers in Her Hair
by Indygodusk
Chapter 3: Second Year - Quidditch Tryouts
When the day of Quidditch tryouts arrived, Harry had expected to see Hermione in the stands cheering him on, but she wasn't there, just Valeria. Soon Valeria was joined by all his roommates except for Vincent, who'd gotten detention. The boys ended up cheering for both him and Draco when they flew past and pretended the two weren't in competition for the same spot. Greg probably wouldn't have dared cheer for Harry if Vincent had been there, but alone with Blaise and Theo, he clapped just as loudly as the rest.
Although he'd never exactly explained, Harry had thought that Hermione had understood and not minded that he'd ignored her for the last two weeks while training. Only now with her absence when he was looking for her support did he worry that he'd somehow hurt her feelings. He'd have to talk to her later, apologize and try to make it up to her, but for now he needed to put her out of his mind and focus on doing his best to make his father and Captain Flint proud.
When tryouts were over and the dust and brooms had all settled, Harry knew he had flown the pants off of everyone there. Valeria's proud and slightly smug smile had been the icing on the cake. It just remained to be seen if it had been enough. Flint and his top advisors had stationed themselves on the field's far side to hold a lengthy consultation that seemed to go on forever, or at least much longer than usual according to those who'd tried out in previous years.
Finally Flint returned, calling together everyone who'd tried out. Clearing his throat to silence the crowd, Flint read out the names and positions of those who'd made this year's main string and reserve teams. Harry could barely hear Flint's voice over the pounding of blood in his ears. The first three names were veterans from last year and no surprise as Flint announced he was staying a Chaser, keeping Miles as Keeper, and switching Terence over to Chaser instead of Seeker.
However, the other returning members of last year's team hadn't performed as well as Harry had expected. In fact, Harry felt like he'd outflown Adrian Pucey, a Chaser, and Artemis Vishnob and Dulcina Winstrom, the Beaters. Pucey's performance had been surprisingly sloppy, as if he didn't think he needed to try very hard because he'd already made the cut last year. As for the girls, they'd had slightly slower reaction times than Harry in the speed drills. However, Artemis and Dulcina were still strong, agile, and cunning players. Harry wasn't so arrogant as to think he could hit a Bludger with the same force or accuracy as they could, much less execute complicated plays with a partner as seamlessly, not without a lot more experience. Slytherin would be crazy not to choose those two as Beaters again.
Flint, obviously thinking the same thing, jumped past the name of the third Chaser and announced Artemis and Dulcina as Beaters. He was getting to the end of the list, but there was no way Harry hadn't made the team. Everyone had to see that Harry had earned the position of Seeker.
So it felt like being impaled through the chest with a sword when Flint called out Draco Malfoy's name. Sight and sound wavered. Harry's knees almost gave out and the air turned to thorns in his throat. He'd given it his all… and still failed. Harry put his head down and took a shaky step backwards, wanting to leave quickly in case the stinging in his eyes turned into traitorous tears.
However, Draco's ringing voice made his next step back falter. "Wait, did you say Chaser? Me?"
Blinking rapidly, just as confused as Draco, Harry's head shot up as he turned all his attention back on Flint, who consulted the scroll in his hand before looking back at Draco. "Yep. Draco Malfoy. Chaser. Unless you're turning it down?"
"No!" Draco exclaimed, pale eyes shining and blond hair dishevelled from flight. "I mean, I'd love to be a Chaser! I just didn't think anyone below fifth year had a chance at that position, much less a second year." The sour looks exchanged by the other hopefuls showed that everyone else had thought the same thing.
Beaming, Draco strutted to the front of the crowd and joined the group of those who'd made the team so far. "Though I am a Malfoy and Malfoys are always exceptional." He ran a hand through his hair and bounced on his feet. "Wait until my father hears about this!"
People were casting sideways looks at the huffing and red-faced Adrian Pucey, who'd obviously expected to be picked to play the Chaser position again. With Flint, Terence, and Draco as the team's three Chasers, the best Pucey could now hope for was a spot on the reserve team.
Though if Draco had been made Chaser, that meant that the position of Seeker was still open, which meant….
Flint looked over and met Harry's eyes, the corner of his lip curling up faintly. "For our final spot, Harry Potter. Seeker."
A triumphant roaring filled Harry's ears. He'd done it! He'd made the team! Grinning from ear to ear, feeling like he could fly even without a broom, Harry ran over to join his new team, almost tripping over his own feet. Chuckling, Flint ruffled his hair before turning back to read the names of everyone who'd made the reserve team before dismissing the rest.
Whooping, Terence grabbed him in a big hug and spun him around. "That's my boy, Harry! You did it!"
As soon as Terence released him a laughing Miles slapped him on the back and gave him a hearty shake. "I can't believe you did it! Good for you!"
Artemis and Dulcina both gave him smiles and firm handshakes. "Welcome to the team, Harry."
When Harry got to Draco, the other boy hesitated for a moment before condescending enough to give Harry a slight nod instead of the vicious scowls Harry had grown used to."Teammates, huh?" Draco smirked, though something brittle lurked in the back of his eyes. "Then for the good of the team I suppose I should say congratulations, Potter." After a beat of silence he held out his hand. "Harry."
It felt like the world was holding its breath as Harry looked at that pale, outstretched hand. Harry had a choice. He could snub Draco's public peace offering and humiliate him, or he could accept it and act like they were friends again. Either way his choice would be judged by the people watching and be put in their mental file about his character. It would impact his standing in Slytherin for good or ill. Part of Harry didn't want to take that hand, wanted to slap it away, sneer, and make it clear that all Draco's petty offenses would be avenged in full, not forgotten and swept under the rug. Harry hadn't realized how angry he really was at Draco until he had the power to refuse him something he wanted.
But, Harry also realized, having power meant he got to choose what kind of powerful person he was going to be—the kind who made people shrink down or the kind who made them stand taller. He'd rejected the idea of power at any cost when the Sorting Hat had first sung about it. Weighing costs and benefits before taking action was an important part of finding success. Harry wanted to be rational, but it was hard with emotion filling your belly and surging up your throat. At times like this, he just had to go with his gut.
Exhaling hard, Harry reached out, took Draco's hand, and focused on how he'd felt when Flint had called his name. "You too, Draco. Congrats on making the team." Saying it helped him to feel it. Feeling victorious over both his worst nature and everything trying to keep him from making the team, Harry pumped Draco's hand.
Draco's face softened into a surprisingly genuine smile. Harry had done that. He'd used his power to make Draco smile instead of frown. He decided to see if he could do more. "Isn't it great? You're a Chaser at twelve! And me Seeker!"
"Yeah!" Draco's mouth stretched into a wide grin. "I wonder if that's a record? We'll have to check," Draco said smugly, shifting to stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry in front of all their housemates, once more an ally.
All in all it was one of the best moments of Harry's entire life. He looked towards the stands for Hermione, wanting to share it with one of his biggest supporters and friends, only to remember that she hadn't shown up to watch. Then again, she was a Gryffindor. Maybe she'd worried that she'd get bullied all alone in the Slytherin stands or had tried and been blocked from staying in thoughts that she was a spy. Shrugging off the pang in his chest, Harry returned to celebrating with his new team and making sure he met all of the reserve players.
After a few minutes, Valeria sauntered over with a wide smile more suited to a shark. "Well done, Harry. I had my doubts, but you did me proud."
"Thanks, Valeria," Harry said past the lump in his throat. Hearing her say that meant a lot.
Ignoring the rest of the team, who were eying her warily, she turned to the much taller Flint, dropped her smile, and shot him a scorching look. "If you waste all the training I poured into this boy, I'll make you regret it."
Miles blanched and stepped sideways to hide behind Beaters Dulcina and Artemis.
"Every year there's some sort of threat," Flint muttered, shaking his head and stepping closer to look down his nose at her. "Stop scaring my team, Basavilbaso. Only I get to do that." He frowned down at her and crossed his arms.
Sending him a look of patent disbelief, Valeria scoffed and rolled her eyes. "This team could use a little more scaring considering the show most of them put on out there today, especially considering a mere second year scraped by a veteran Chaser, a supposedly trained veteran who flew more like a first year who'd drunk his daddy's bottle of firewhiskey. They better work hard if they want to win any matches this year." She turned a cold expression on the group, pausing on Draco and wrinkling her nose. "I won't stand for our house losing the cup this year because one of you got… lazy. I wouldn't like that at all." Draco gulped and slid back behind the Beaters to cower with Miles, Valeria's eyes tracking him the entire time like prey.
Even after two weeks, Harry wasn't immune to it, slowly sliding in the opposite direction away from Draco and out of her direct line of sight, just in case.
"Basavilbaso." Flint shifted to block her view.
She blinked and looked up at him with a suspiciously innocent expression. "Yes?"
"This is my team. My team always wins." Flint took her shoulders and turned her around, giving her a push back in the direction of the castle. "Go on."
Everyone dropped their brooms and ran, expecting gouts of blood and severed limbs and too scared to fly up into the air and become her first target.
To Harry's shock, Valeria didn't even draw her wand, merely twitching her shoulders and walking away. "Just remember team," she called over her shoulder sweetly, "I'll torture anyone who screws up. Starting with," her voice dropped to a fell register, "your beloved Captain." She shot Flint a hard look from the corner of her eye and sashayed away.
Flint grunted thoughtfully, head tilting to the side. His eyes dropped to her swinging hips and paused, as if mesmerized. "Oh." Eyes widening, he hit himself on the head and cupped his hands around his mouth, "Basavilbaso!
Her step hitched but she didn't stop.
"Valeria," he said, voice quieter but even more commanding.
Jerking to a stop, she put a hand on her hip and looked over her shoulder at him with a scowl, the strands of her beaded golden earrings swaying. "What?"
Flint caught her eyes and inclined his head. "I accept your invitation to Hogsmeade."
Valeria's wand shot into her hand.
Everyone gasped and those brave souls who'd thought to come out of hiding dropped to their hands and knees as they scrambled away to safer cover, hoping to survive the carnage to come with at least one of their limbs intact.
Valeria swung around to face Flint with fire in her eyes and marched back, her wand raised threateningly. "Excuse me?" she hissed. "What did you say to me?"
Harry ended up hiding with Draco behind the rattling trunk holding the Bludgers. He wanted to keep his head down so he didn't lose an eye or nose, but his curiosity about what would happen next was too strong. Cautiously he peeked over the top edge.
"Hogsmeade," Flint put his hands on his hips, one corner of his mouth turning up in a crooked smile that made him look almost dashing. "I'm taking you this weekend. I finally figured it out... all those times you knocked me off my broom during games, how you trained my last two Seekers, the threats to my team, to me… you're flirting. I like it. I like you. A lot. You're cute and small and vicious. I bet we could even fit on one broom together. I'd like to try, but in private."
"You—you!" she sputtered, her dark cheeks sporting a red glow as the wand in her fingers went slack.
"Yep, you and me." He nodded with a smugly satisfied smile. "See you Saturday. I'll look forward to it, but for now I've got a team to greet and a season to win." Tossing her a salute, he fearlessly turned his back on her and walked over to his cowering and awestruck team.
Valeria's eyes glittered as they narrowed on his back. She breathed in sharply, her wand clutched in a white-knucked fist. "If you're playing with me, Marcus, I'll dye the curtains red with your blood and present them to Oliver Wood as a gift to hang in the Gryffindor common room." Whirling on her heel with a hiss, she strode off, snatching a broom from the slack grip of a dumbfounded Dulcina and zipping off into the sky like a rocket until she'd disappeared from view.
People slowly crawled out of hiding. Harry realized he'd been all wrong about Flint. There was no doubt that if he hadn't been sorted into Slytherin, he definitely would've been a Gryffindor instead of a Hufflepuff after that act of suicidal bravery. Not asking but telling Valeria that she could date him? And then turning his back on her instead of waiting for her to hex him or say yes or no? Harry hadn't thought that he and the rest of the team could respect Flint anymore than they already did.
Obviously he'd been wrong.
-oo00oo-
The following Monday, Harry still felt like he was walking on clouds. He floated into breakfast and down to his first class of the day, Potions with the Gryffindors and Professor Snape. When Hermione came in she met his eyes from across the classroom, brow furrowed and eyes questioning. When Harry beamed at her and nodded, mimicking catching a Snitch with his hand, she clapped her hands gleefully and laughed out loud, attracting several strange glances from her housemates. Luckily Snape wasn't there yet or he would've taken away house points from her for sure.
Taking her seat, Hermione mouthed something to him. Harry had no clue what she was saying. She mouthed it again more slowly. Meow, ID goo, butona reori. Was there going to be a mysterious goo called butona reori that came from a cat used in their potions today? Harry jotted down what she'd said for later, just in case. Seeing his incomprehension when he looked back up, she sighed, gave him a secret little smile, and mouthed, later. That word, at least, he understood.
Unfortunately, Professor Snape made Harry stay after class for a lecture on improving his attitude and learning humility, so he wasn't able to catch her. After belaboring all of his faults as a student, Snape moved on to the topic of making sure Harry remembered that Quidditch was about the team, not individual glory, and that if Harry got too distracted posing for the cheering crowds and missed the Snitch, consequently making Slytherin lose, he would be made to regret it. The warning was worded to make it sound like his peers would be the ones punishing him, but Harry could hear the threat under the words about Snape himself making Harry's life a living hell (as if he wasn't already).
Halfway through the lecture, the voice of poison and ice started whispering through the walls about hunger and biting into warm flesh, making the whole experience even more "special." Harry's stomach felt tight as he thought about what Snape was saying. It was already bad enough with the way everyone snickered when Professor Lockhart made him come up to the front of class to reenact scenes from those stupid books. Being hated for losing a game would probably be a whole lot worse.
"Do you understand, Potter?" Only Snape could spit out his name with that level of disdain. Even Draco at his worst hadn't managed it.
"I'll do my best for my team and my house, Professor," Harry said vaguely, trying to sound humble instead of belligerent.
Lips twisting, Snape grunted and dismissed him from the room.
-ooOoo-
The first Quidditch match of the season was Slytherin against Gryffindor. It took place in less than a month on the first weekend in November. Everyone was excited. Gryffindor was fielding the same team as last year and, since Slytherin had only barely scraped by with a win, Flint wanted everyone in top shape. He was determined to make Oliver Wood cry this year, even if they had to be tears of blood.
They practiced at least three times a week and whenever Flint could secure the Quidditch pitch from the other teams so the new mix of players could learn how to work well together. Draco whined about the schedule and how hard Flint was training them, but Harry could only shake his head and laugh when he compared it to what he'd gone through under Valeria's iron fist.
In the rush of establishing new relationships with Slytherins who were suddenly interested in talking to him—the girls in second and third year were actually kind of fun but boy were they vicious pool sharks when it came to gobstones (Harry had quickly learned to ignore their fluttering lashes and coy smiles and not bet anything he didn't mind losing against them)—he never quite managed to find the time to track down Hermione to catch up. Multiple times, especially that first week after he made the team, Harry saw her waiting in the hall for him, shifting from foot to foot, but even though he'd intended on going over, he always got distracted by a classmate or a professor and by the time he looked up again she'd given up and rushed off to her next class. Harry wasn't used to being popular for something he enjoyed, like Quidditch, versus something uncomfortable, like Voldemort and his parents' murders. It was unexpectedly nice.
Of course, he'd earned new enemies by making the team too. Adrian Pucey, who'd ignored Harry's existence up until now, decided that it was Harry's fault that he'd lost his Chaser position and been shifted back onto the reserve team. He hated Draco too, but didn't bully him half as much as Harry, perhaps fearing the Malfoy family name or because Draco went almost everywhere with Greg and Vincent as backup, while Harry sometimes felt the need to go off on his own. In addition to jinxing him in the hallways, Pucey kept putting flobberworms and even worse things in Harry's Quidditch things until Terence asked Harry point-blank in the locker room where that horrible smell and mysterious slime kept coming from. On finding out about Harry's troubles, he and Miles warded Harry's locker so no one but Harry could open it anymore.
Determined to stop being treated like a victim, much less lose more face amongst the other students and his team, Harry brainstormed with his friends and made a plan. Artemis picked him up a few things from Zonko's on the next Hogsmeade weekend since he wasn't allowed to go until third year. The following week, Harry used his invisibility cloak to sneak into Pucey's bathroom cubby in the middle of the night and coat the bristles of Pucey's hairbrush with one of Zonko's newest joke potions. Pucey was almost as vain about his hair as Draco.
At breakfast the next morning, Harry walked behind Pucey at the table and flicked a few drops of the activator solution onto the back of Pucey's hair while Blaise played lookout and waited to provide a distraction if necessary. Two minutes later, with Harry and his friends sitting far down at the other end of the table trying to look innocent, Pucey's hair abruptly poofed out from his head like a gigantic dandelion gone to seed. The entire table erupted into laughter. Hands lifting to his head and feeling around, Pucey shouted and jumped to his feet, the poofy white strands swaying with each movement. He looked around in a rage before stopping to glare at the Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table.
A knot of Ravenclaws pushed through the doors from outside on their way into breakfast, letting in a gust of wind. White dandelion fluff flew up off of Pucey's head and swirled around the Great Hall, several pieces flying all of the way up to the staff table and landing in Headmaster Dumbledore's porridge. Students looked over and laughed, with several of the teachers even covering their mouths to hide amusement.
The Weasley twins stood up with wide grins. "Why didn't we try that!" one of them cried, pointing at Pucey and laughing.
"I know, Fred! He's quite the dandylion for someone who is neither attractive enough to be a dandy, nor brave enough to be a lion," said George (presumably).
Fred nodded and rubbed his chin. "But maybe the snake's just sad he wasn't good enough to get into Gryffindor."
"I seed what you mean. In fact, those seeds are getting everywhere, including the food!" Laughing uproariously, the two leaned into each other and fell back down onto their bench.
Face beet red and white poofs flying from his head at every jerking movement, Pucey stomped from the hall, trailing floating white seeds in his wake. Instead of going to the infirmary, he tried to fix it himself in the nearest bathroom. By the time he'd given up and gone for help, it was too late. Madam Pomfrey was able to cancel the effects of the potion, but not before Pucey had lost all but a few long strands of hair from behind one ear and the base of his neck. His hair looked so stupid that he ended up shaving his head bald.
Unable to handle the humiliation or prove who'd done it, though Harry's and his friends' smirks were obvious signs of guilt, Pucey started taking out his temper on everyone who crossed his path. Most people took to avoiding him and his social status plummeted, but there was only so much you could do when you all lived in the same dungeon. The final straw came when Pucey screamed at little Halle Harper for daring to bump his arm while passing into the inner circle of furniture reserved for important people, despite the fact that she was only on her way to take her usual nap on top of Flint's back.
One minute Pucey was yelling at the cowering Halle and the next, Flint had rolled to his feet, fisted the shoulder of Pucey's robe, and yanked him backwards, toppling him over. Flint ignored Pucey's sputtering and dragged him out of the room with his robe strangling his throat and his heels drumming against the floor.
When they eventually came back, Pucey had a swollen eye, mushrooms for teeth, and a mumbled, blanket apology for everyone in Slytherin House. His bad behavior had also lost him his spot on the reserve Quidditch team, which meant Harry barely had to see him at all anymore. All in all, Harry's prank had worked out wonderfully.
In all the excitement of bonding with his new team and dealing with Pucey, Harry hadn't meant to forget about Hermione, but it was hard to run into someone in another house to talk unless you were paired for a project or planned it in advance, especially when you didn't have much spare time to start with and that other person was a girl you didn't want people to think you were crushing on. To make it even harder, Hermione stopped hanging around so much after class waiting for him. It seemed her housemates had finally decided to start including her more (which was great for her but not so much for Harry). He thought about trying to track her down in the library, but the whole point was talking and she always sat by Madam Pince where you weren't allowed to talk, so that tact seemed doomed to failure. Doing something about his friendship with Hermione kept getting pushed down his list of priorities as the first, most important, and most contentious game of the Quidditch season rapidly approached.
First, however, Harry had to get through Halloween. When October 31st dawned, Harry woke up feeling out of sorts. The anniversary of his parent's deaths hurt in multiple ways. He missed the idea of having parents more than the people themselves because he didn't remember them at all and knew more lies than truths about who they'd really been, which made him feel guilty, ashamed, and angry. It wasn't something he knew how to talk to his roommates about. Blaise would probably make light of it in an attempt to make Harry feel better, but end up making him feel worse instead, Theo would give him a platitude and store the information away in case he needed it later, Vincent and Greg would either misunderstand or use it to mock him, and Draco, despite the fact that he'd unexpectedly declared a ceasefire and decided to be friendly to Harry for the sake of house unity, would probably turn it around to make it about himself. Besides, everyone was excited for the Halloween feast and Harry didn't want to be the one to ruin that.
However, the pressure in his chest worsened the longer he thought about it. It felt like it needed to get out somehow, even if that meant getting into a fight with someone. Sucking on a tooth, he knew Hermione would give him disappointed eyes for fighting with someone for no good reason, especially since he'd probably end up fighting someone in Gryffindor. He didn't like disappointing Hermione. She was a good listener and easy to talk to when it came to sensitive and uncomfortable topics.
In fact, it had been much too long since he'd talked to her at all. Staring blankly at the green curtains surrounding his bed, Harry did a rough calculation and winced at realizing that he hadn't talked to Hermione in over a month. He was a horrible friend! Harry knew he needed to try harder. Since he had class with Gryffindor later that day, he promised himself that he'd find her then, apologize, and try to mend their friendship.
After class, Harry had barely taken two steps down the path with his sight set on Hermione, when he was slammed to the side by Ron Weasley. "Stay with the snakes where you belong, Potter," Weasley snarled. "Leave her out of your dark plans. She won't help you cheat."
"That's not—" Harry started to defend himself hotly, but Weasley wasn't listening and didn't care as he raced ahead.
"Stupid Weasel," Draco seethed, coming up by his side. "His manners are as poor as his parents. How dare he treat you like that!" As if Draco himself hadn't been encouraging Greg and Vincent to knock Harry around for the last two months. Obviously it was different when a Gryffindor tried to do it. Harry tried not to grind his teeth or let Draco see the direction of his thoughts.
Up ahead, Weasley grabbed Hermione's arm, pulling her with him towards a group on the branching pathway up ahead that included the older Weasley twins. They were Beaters for the Gryffindor team and infamous pranksters, often targeting the younger, more gullible and defenseless students, especially younger Slytherins. They greeted their brother and Hermione affably and then looked over Ron's head at Harry, meeting Harry's glare with identical snooty expressions. One of the twins pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at Harry. The other cut a thumb across his neck. Their message was clear.
Neville Longbottom, bag almost falling off his shoulder and scrolls and books looking like they might spill out at any moment, scurried down the middle of the path after the group when he'd realized he had fallen behind into the pack of Slytherins. Harry didn't blame him since Draco, Greg, and Vincent could be little jerks to the timid and awkward Gryffindor, but it was still annoying that Longbottom was further blocking Harry's path to Hermione. Harry just wanted to talk to her. He tried moving to the other side of the path to see if he could get around the group to Hermione that way, but the Weasleys caught sight of him and shifted in a red mass to block him, only allowing Longbottom through before closing ranks again. Hermione remained oblivious to the maneuverings, busy greeting the boy and answering a stupid question Ron Weasley was loudly asking about class, probably to keep her attention up front and turned away from Harry.
Seething, Harry stomped after them into a courtyard many students used as a shortcut between different parts of the castle. Feeling the hair rising on his neck, Harry looked over and found a redheaded girl, probably another Weasley, watching him with a creepy, unblinking stare, her mouth hanging open. It made him uncomfortable and reminded him of seeing her with her family at the bookstore just before school started.
"Ginny!" Ron Weasley snapped, making the girl jump. Seeing Harry looking at her, she blushed bright red and hid her face behind a book that looked too thin to be a first year textbook, though he felt like he'd seen it before. Ron glared at Harry over his sister's head and yanked the girl towards Hermione and the twins, putting another person in Harry's way. Harry decided that he quite disliked the entire Weasley family and that he wasn't going to do a thing to discourage Draco the next time he decided to jinx Ron in the halls after class.
Blaise appeared and slung an arm over Harry's shoulder, joining him in staring at the group of Gryffindors. Ginny peeked over her brother's shoulder at Harry and, seeing him still looking, squeaked and dropped her eyes again. "And another Gryffindor girl falls for your dubious charms. What is it about you that attracts them? Is it the big round glasses? The skinny little legs?"
"Get off!" Harry shoved Blaise away, feeling his face go uncomfortably hot. "It's not like I want her staring at me."
"Is the firsty not your type? I don't blame you. Too much red, flat as a board, yuck face, not to mention the horrible relatives." Blaise shuddered.
"Yuck is right, and—hey! Where'd she get that book?" Draco glared daggers at the Weasley girl, making her shrink farther back behind her brothers until she'd almost disappeared. "She shouldn't have that, the little thief." He fumed, lips pursing. "It belongs to my father. I remember seeing him slip it into his pocket on the day I went book shopping. Wait until he hears about this!"
"Oh," Harry snapped his fingers, "that's right. I saw him with it too, but she didn't steal it, he gave it to her. It was weird." He shrugged and batted away a fly buzzing around his face.
"What?" Draco transferred his scowl to Harry.
Lowering his voice, Harry gathered the other boys into a clump so no one else could overhear, shifting to make sure Greg and Vincent especially weren't at his back. Despite Draco's change of heart, he still didn't trust them. "I saw—the day most everyone went to Diagon Alley to buy books for school? It was the weirdest thing. Remember how the store was full because of Lockhart's book signing? I saw your father so I followed him inside looking for you, not knowing he didn't want us being friends anymore." Harry paused to scowl at Draco.
"Yes yes, we all know about my father's negative feelings about you." Draco waved it off as if it was merely another bothersome fly and not the thing that had damaged their relationship and made Harry's second year so much harder. "Get to the point about my father and his book."
Harry huffed. "Anyway, I'd forgotten what a self-absorbed prat you are so I was following him to find you and say hello, but when I saw Ron Weasley lumbering in my direction I ducked around a bookshelf. Weasley's little sister dropped her Transfiguration book without noticing and your father picked it up and slid that little book inside. Then he just slipped the books into her cauldron and disappeared into the crowd without saying anything. I don't think she even noticed. Even I wouldn't have if I hadn't been looking straight at him at the right moment."
Blaise wrinkled his nose. "That is weird."
"Harry, are you sure you saw it right? You do wear glasses, after all," Draco asked condescendingly.
"Yes, Draco. If I can see well enough to catch a Snitch, I can see well for other things."
Draco crossed his arms and lifted his nose into the air. "Well, I'm sure my father had a good reason for it, whatever it was. I know he looks down on the Weasleys even more than he does you."
Blaise rolled his eyes and swatted Draco with his bag. "Your father hates everybody lately."
"No he doesn't," Draco dropped his arms and glared at him.
"Name one person he's said something nice about this year." Blaise snorted. "And you don't count."
Draco flushed and looked down, taking a quick breath. His lips pressed tight and he swallowed, looking strangely soft. Blaise and Harry exchanged a startled glance. Draco often got upset, but not like this. Anger usually just made him sharper.
"Alright, mate, you can include yourself after all. I was only teasing," Blaise coaxed, his voice dropping so the other students in the courtyard couldn't hear whatever was making Draco look like that.
"Yeah, well," Draco laughed lowly, but there was no humor in the sound, "you were right the first time. He's not happy with anything lately, me included. Even me making Chaser. You should see the things he says in the letters he writes to me—" cutting himself off, Draco breathed in slowly and straightened his shoulders, rebuilding his mask of arrogance. "But of course my father is a great man who merely wants what's best for me and our family. Everything he does has a reason."
For the first time, Harry wondered if half of the cutting things Draco said to Harry and the other kids he bullied came from things Mr. Malfoy had said first about Draco. Maybe Draco's family life wasn't as happy and perfect as he liked to pretend. Harry looked away before Draco could see the sympathy in his eyes. If Draco thought Harry was pitying him, the truce would be off and Draco's cruelty would surge back ten times as strong.
Blaise crossed his arms behind his head and rocked on his feet as he looked up at a fluffy white cloud that had shadowed the courtyard. "Well, getting back to my original point, it looks like Harry has a new admirer. First Granger, now Weasley, whose heart will fall to him next?"
Harry groaned. "Seriously, Blaise, stop."
"Yes, please stop. The less said about that disgusting know-it-all Granger the better. Does she even have any redeeming qualities?" Theo rolled his eyes.
Draco snorted but for once didn't offer up an extra insult. Maybe he still had a soft spot for Hermione after going through all those traps together last year. Or, much more likely, he was still feeling a bit off after admitting that his father wasn't as proud of him as he wanted everyone to believe.
Into the silence broke Greg's hesitant voice. "Granger likes snakes?" They all turned to look at him in shock, not just for his words but for venturing an independent opinion on something.
"Are you saying you like her?" Vincent sounded betrayed as red flooded his face. "She's a Gryffindor and a—a mudblood."
Harry blinked, not having heard that term before but not liking the sound of it.
"N—no…" Greg hunched his shoulders and looked down, his voice going quiet. "Just that Harry's a Slytherin and she likes him, even helped him and Draco and Blaise to get through all those traps last year, and then there was that snake she picked up last year when everyone else was scared… so she seems to like snakes. That's all."
"That makes sense." Draco brushed back his hair, his lips twisted into a smirk. "I'm just glad Goyle wasn't speaking of the other kind of snake because thinking that almost made me throw up in my mouth."
"What other kind of snake?" Vincent asked, scratching his head. Harry was confused too.
Pursing his lips, Draco leaned forward, looking left and right before whispering, "A trouser snake."
"Ew, gross!" Blaise jumped back while Theo leaned over and pretended to puke, making loud retching sounds.
"You're awful! How dare you plant that image in my head. Scrubbing out my brain now, scrub scrub scrub!" Theo scratched his fingers through his dark hair, making it stick up in all directions.
Draco put his hands on his hips and cackled. Vincent and Greg both still looked uncertain but gave a few confused chuckles.
Not even thinking about it, Harry's fist snapped out and slugged Draco hard in the arm, making Draco stagger to the side with a yelp. "Don't talk about her that way. She's my friend." He narrowed his eyes at Draco.
Harry never would've dreamed of reacting like that before Hogwarts, but he wasn't a stupid powerless kid living in a cupboard and getting regularly thrashed by his cousin and his friends anymore. Some boys just listened better after a tap, a lesson he'd learned from watching Flint and the other boys in Slytherin.
Rubbing his arm, Draco looked sour. "It was just a joke."
"Look," Blaise nudged Harry with his elbow, "Granger's alright for a girl, but she's always going to be a Gryffindor and Gryffs are the enemy. If you're that desperate for a girlfriend I'm sure we can find you one in our house. Tracey or Daphne might not be too bad, or maybe someone in Ravenclaw. I've got several admirers in Ravenclaw myself." He smirked at a group of girls on the other side of the courtyard and ran a hand through his hair, making them giggle and blush.
Theo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "It's disgusting but true, even some of the older girls like him." He looked at where Hermione was disappearing into the castle surrounded by redheads, frowned, and turned back at Harry, the corners of his mouth tight. "You really can do better than her, Harry. Blaise could easily push one of the eagles your way. What about—" he snapped his fingers "—Cho Chang. She's a year older and I hear she likes Quidditch."
"She could go flying with you in the moonlight." Blaise looked soulfully up towards the sky with a hand across his brow before breaking the pose to add, "I could totally set up a date. Her roommate likes me. I can tell."
Cho was cute but that wasn't the point. Harry pressed his lips tight and exhaled through his nose. "Seriously, guys, stop. I don't want a girlfriend right now. I'm only twelve. Most of you don't even want girlfriends."
"That's true, but when I do decide I want one I know enough to set my heart on a proper girl, one who's wearing green." Theo shifted his bag to the other shoulder and sniffed.
"W-e-e-ll… I hear Pansy's looking for a boyfriend," Blaise put a finger on his nose and pushed it up in imitation of Pansy's unfortunately pug-like nose.
Harry snorted and played along. "Are you suggesting Theo steal her away from our good friend Draco? You know she's loved him since first year."
"Yuck!" Draco shivered. "Please, take her away. In fact, I'll ask her to focus on turning Harry's poor heart from the Gryffindor girls. I'll say it's a personal favor to me." He turned and looked around the courtyard, calling out, "Oh, Pansy!"
"Don't you dare!" Harry cried, springing at Draco with hands outstretched. Laughing, Draco took off running with Harry hot on his heels. The others followed with shouted suggestions.
-oo0oo-
As they returned to their room to drop off their books, Theo kept giving Harry longer and longer looks, fidgeting and taking a deep breath as if he was about to say something but not actually doing it.
In the jockeying for position amongst the second-years, Draco and Harry were tied for top spot. Blaise was so likable and easy-going that he slotted into place just below them and seemed content to stay there. Theo wasn't even in the running for top spot, yet every once in a while he still tried to assert himself by tearing one of them down, often Harry as a softer target than Draco or Blaise. Theo wanted to be a leader in Slytherin but lacked the talent, persistence, and strength of will. Ever since Draco had decided he didn't hate Harry anymore, Theo had gotten more antsy, as if he'd counted on Draco and Harry taking each other out so he could sneak past them and become the leader without having to work for it and, since it hadn't happened, he was working himself up to do something else to improve his status.
Dominance was important in their house and something Harry had been forced to pay attention to and try to learn how to navigate. He wasn't always sure if he wanted to be a leader, especially because there was still so much about the magical world he didn't understand, but in the sink or swim world of house politics, Harry refused to drown. Most of the time he was only treading water, but he had too much stubborn pride to go under without a fight. Besides, he didn't have it in him to really be a mindless follower. He hated being ordered around, especially without having a really good reason for what he was doing.
Tossing his bag onto the trunk at the foot of his bed, catching the backup sack of just-in-case rolls and fruit before it could fall to the floor and shoving it back into place, Harry swung around with a sigh and put a hand on his hips. "Whatever you want to say, Theo, just spit it out." The sooner Theo's little power push got nipped in the bud, the sooner he'd accept his place and go back to being normal, letting Harry relax.
"Fine," Theo straightened the cuffs of his robe before looking up with a hard expression and throwing back his shoulders. "I realize you never got a proper education, Harry, but it's time you started figuring things out. Everyone's been giving you slack because you're famous for surviving, but you're not a first year anymore."
Barely stopping a flinch at the reference to his so-called fame, hoping he hadn't let them see the moment of weakness, Harry shifted so he could keep the others in view and surreptitiously fisted the wand in his pocket. This sounded like the kind of conversation that might end up in a fight. Blaise would have his back, but the others could go either way.
Harry looked at Draco from the corner of his eye, tired of never knowing if he could be trusted. He'd decided to be nice to Harry today, but that could and had changed at a moment's notice and, as roommates, there was no getting away from him. Harry was stuck with the problem of Draco Malfoy until they graduated. Thinking about giving up on Draco and just becoming clear cut enemies—no matter how much simpler it would make some things—made Harry's chest hurt, but Harry hadn't figured out how to make Draco stick as a loyal friend. One of these days he might have to stop trying.
However, right now, he needed to focus on the problem of Theo, not Draco. "What's that supposed to mean, Theo? What things?"
"Harry, you shouldn't even like Granger. Let the friendship go. We're Slytherins and she's—she's a mudblood," Theo said with a curl of his lip. "Not to mention a Gryffindor. It's embarrassing the rest of us. It's a disgrace."
Harry's temper sparked. "Wait, what did you call her?" His back straightened at the unfamiliar term that nonetheless left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Okay, look Harry." Sighing, Draco drummed his fingers on his thigh from where he sat on the corner of his bed. "Theo's right in that Slytherin is the best because it's full of purebloods. Everyone knows that only purebloods can be great. That's just the way it is. Granger's parents are Muggles." His lip curled. "You have to see that it makes her blood dirty—muddy—so she's less than the rest of us. She's a mudblood. Even you with all your fame are still only a half-blood, on account of your mum also being a mu—"
Harry found himself across the room and looming over Draco without knowing quite how it had happened. He didn't know what his face looked like or what word had been about to come out of Draco's mouth—Muggle or mudblood—but Draco's face had gone as pale as his hair and Theo had stumbled back to put his back against the wall.
Perhaps because Harry could take so much abuse without snapping, his roommates assumed he'd always be good natured and treated the times he actually lost his temper with shock and wary respect. It took a lot to make him lose it, but when he did, it was explosive. Harry hadn't been allowed to lose his temper when he lived with the Dursley's without dire and long-lasting consequences, but as a Slytherin, he sometimes found that allowing out a bit of his temper made things better, not worse.
When he'd first started school, Harry had been trying to keep his head down and be friendly and respectful to everyone, but Greg and Vincent had decided that kindness meant he was weak. They'd all gotten into a fight in the owlery a couple of weeks into first year, but Harry had held his own and earned their respect. Things had gotten better after that, but then, just before the winter holidays, they'd cornered him in their room, insulted his dead parents, and tried to beat him up, maybe to prove they weren't at the bottom of the social hierarchy, maybe because they'd had a bad day, or maybe just because they were dicks. The rest of his roommates had arrived just in time to see Harry standing over their downed bodies, despite Harry being half of Greg's size, much less Vincent's—though he'd won more through berserker fury and a stubborn disregard of physical pain than through any true skill at fighting. Nevertheless, the respect stuck that time until the end of the year. It had established him as a dominant in their group and someone you should be careful of pushing too far. Even with his contention with Draco this year, he hadn't lost his position.
"Don't." Harry's hands curled into fists. His chest expanded on a deep breath. "Don't you dare say that filthy word. Not about my friends, not about my mum." Harry shot a hard look at Draco, trying to appeal to the momma's boy so-obviously living inside him. "Just—don't." Harry felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He didn't want to go right back to fighting Draco and the rest of them, but he would. He would fight them over this.
Reading it clearly on his face, the others exchanged glances and shifted uneasily. A noisy group walked past the door of their room and Harry sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down enough to think clearly, trying to figure out what to do besides launch a swing at Draco's face or run away out the door. So far he and Draco had mostly kept their fighting to words. Changing that dynamic was suicidal, though he'd still do it if necessary. Part of him would love to plant a fist in Draco's mouth for all of the grief he'd been giving Harry this year.
Clenching his jaw, Harry forced more air into his lungs and tried to think instead of just react. He needed to be diplomatic and get them to see things his way, wasn't that what the older kids always talked about in the common room? He needed to be cunning like a true Slytherin. Perhaps if he used logic while flattering them into it? Wasn't that how Dulcina had won that big fight last week with Artemis?
Relaxing his fists, Harry made sure to keep his voice low and controlled. "Look, I don't want to fight. You're my friends, my housemates in the greatest house there is. In the years to come we'll be allies and rise to power together, leaving the wizarding world in awe of us Slytherins. We're going to be great, but the power of a Slytherin can't all be so-called blood status. Look at the evidence. If that were true, every so-called pureblood and every powerful wizard and witch in the castle would be in Slytherin and I know that's not true. Isn't Professor Flitwick—who I think it's obvious isn't a pure blood—better at Charms than anyone, not to mention an award winning duelist?"
Draco's face was too hard to read while Vincent and Greg looked like they'd forgotten what the topic was even about. Blaise chewed on his lip and seemed to be thinking about it. Looking stubborn, Theo opened his mouth to keep arguing so Harry turned the focus on him.
"Isn't Theo's older sister in Ravenclaw and Head Girl this year? Didn't Theo say that she's some kind of amazing genius already being courted by several different departments at the Ministry and even has international runemasters asking her to come and apprentice?"
Theo's face mottled red as he shut his mouth and looked down, obviously unsure how to respond and still win the argument.
"Well, isn't she powerful, Theo? Or did I remember wrong?" Harry pushed, watching him carefully.
"No, she—she is, that's true, and in Ravenclaw…." Theo trailed off and gulped.
Draco opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to argue but wasn't sure what to say.
Harry looked around and saw a Quidditch magazine on Draco's bed. "And all else being equal, doesn't everyone say that Oliver Wood is probably the best Quidditch player in the school and certain to go professional once he graduates?" Draco and Theo stiffened. Even Blaise frowned.
Harry hid a wince. He'd almost had them before he'd mentioned Wood—a Gryffindor and their biggest rival in Quidditch. It had been a tactical mistake. His mind raced. He needed to pivot back to Slytherin being great.
"Look, we're Slytherins and together we're going to show everyone that us snakes are the best. Right? We're not going to do that by making pitiful excuses about things no one can control like blood status, or rely on reckless luck like a Gryffindor, blind loyalty like a Hufflepuff, or rote memorization like a Ravenclaw." That had them nodding. Heart pounding, Harry leaned forward as if letting them in on a secret. "We're going to rise to the top using cunning, resourcefulness, and ambition. That's why we're better. That's our power. Maybe it used to make a difference in the dusty old past, but for people like us, in the future to come, blood status won't matter. Those are excuses used by old people and those too weak and clumsy to rise to the top. That's not us. Here and now is what matters. What we do and say matters. This is our time to show them what we're made of. We're going to win by being so obviously superior to everyone else that the other houses won't be able to deny it. Get it?"
Harry focused his gaze on Draco, who looked conflicted but thoughtful. At least he wasn't arguing with what Harry had said. It was a start.
"You don't understand family the way we do," Theo scowled down at his boots and shuffled his feet. "That's just the way everyone talks. Being pureblood—being seen as the right sort instead of the wrong sort—that's important. That earns you respect."
"Really? Is it really earned?" Harry asked sharply. "Or is it merely given and just as easily taken away, leaving you powerless when problems come? True respect is earned based on actions. Actions are remembered and relied upon much more than mere labels. That kind of respect endures and leads to security and power." Harry held out his hands like a set of scales in Potions. "It's like a house of straw versus a house of brick. When a troll comes knocking, which one do you want to be living in?"
Harry turned and left the room, trying not to look like he was fleeing, though he totally was. Had he really just used the story of the three little pigs and the big bad wolf to try and convince his roommates? He needed to stop now before he said something even stupider and lost whatever ground he'd just gained, if he had actually gained anything.
Locking himself in a bathroom stall, Harry sat down, put his head in his hands, and groaned pitifully. It was tempting to hide out in here until everyone forgot what he'd said and were busy stuffing their faces at dinner, but he only had to remember Hermione's experience last Halloween to know why locking oneself in a bathroom only led to worse problems. If there was another troll in the castle, Harry's luck would probably draw it straight to him. Digging deep for his courage, Harry stood up, washed his hands, and left.
-oo0oo-
With that conversation weighing on his mind, Harry had actually managed to forget that it was Halloween. Stepping into the Great Hall, which looked like the daughter of a bat and a pumpkin had spit up decorations everywhere, he felt like a Bludger had knocked him in the head. Trudging over to the table, he was surprised and grateful when his roommates shifted to make room for him like always instead of getting weird.
However, just as they finished eating, Harry once again heard that horrible voice of ice and metal. At first it sounded like it was on one side of the hall and merely invisible, but then it moved above his head, like a ghost with no respect for walls and floors, whispering about it finally being the time to kill. Worried that someone was about to die, Harry jumped to his feet and rushed to stop it. Blaise and Draco ran after him, demanding to know what was going on and claiming that they hadn't heard anything.
"That voice—don't you hear it? It's going to kill somebody!" Harry cried, taking the steps two at a time.
"Blood… I smell blood...yes-s-s..." the raspy voice whispered eagerly just around the corner at the top of the stairs. Wand out, his most powerful jinx at the ready, Harry pelted around the corner, only to stumble to a stop at the strange scene that met his eyes. Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, lay on the floor, her body as stiff as a board. On the wall above the cat were written words in what looked like blood.
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.
"Not good, run for it!" Draco cried, grabbing a fistfull of Harry's robes and yanking him back towards the stairs with Blaise. Before they could escape, Filch came hustling around the corner, giving an anguished cry at seeing his cat, just as half of Gryffindor house reached the top of the stairs from the opposite direction, blocking escape and pointing fingers at the three Slytherins.
The Headmaster and Professor Snape were called to deal with the situation. Despite their vehement denials, Filch and the Gryffindors were certain that the Slytherins had killed the cat and written the bloody words. Harry was extremely glad Draco had followed after him instead of letting him go alone. There was no way Snape would ever let his godson be punished by Filch, especially without concrete proof of wrongdoing. The chance became even more remote when the cat turned out to be merely petrified and not dead. If Harry had been alone, however, Filch might've finally gotten his wish to hang someone from the ceiling by their toes, though Dumbledore did seem to have a soft spot for Harry and if he'd been lucky might've saved him from torture.
The whole experience made him reflect bitterly on his own skewed reputation. He really needed to find a way to get more respect and safety. Hopefully winning the Quidditch match next week would help with that.
-oo0oo-
The following day the rumor mill went crazy. Blaise reported hearing that the Chamber of Secrets was created by Salazar Slytherin after an argument with the other founders over teaching muggleborns (Slytherin was against it) and that the Chamber housed a monster that would kill muggleborns and could only be controlled by Slytherin's heir. Everyone pretty much agreed that the heir had to be a student in Slytherin, but no one was quite sure who. To Harry's dismay, he was the favored candidate, especially after someone resurrected the rumors from last year about how Harry must secretly be the next Dark Lord because he'd somehow killed Voldemort as a baby and then been sorted into Slytherin.
He wondered what Hermione thought and if she still believed in him, but there was no way to know because she was proving to be more elusive than ever. At least she'd have to be at his first game, didn't she? Surely she'd find a way to talk to him then, after if not before.
Anxious about competing and uncomfortable with both the whispered rumors and the whispers in the walls, Harry fell into a dark mood that proved difficult to shake as he counted down the final days before his first Quidditch game.
AN: Thanks to my extremely helpful betas — Iforgottocall and dizzysappedweak! And thank you for reading! Next time is the much anticipated Quidditch game and the answer to what Hermione's been up to while Harry's been busy. Please comment and let me know what you think of my story, what Hermione's going to do next chapter, and my Slytherin characters. Thank you!
