Whispers in Her Hair
by Indygodusk
Chapter 5: Second Year - Valeria's Announcement
No one could figure out who had petrified Colin Creevey and Mrs. Norris, but everyone was creeped out. Trying to find the culprit was a good way to avoid his own problems, so Harry brainstormed for ideas. Thinking of his favorite tapestry, Harry wondered about gorgons being the culprit behind the petrifications, though he'd thought they turned people to actual stone. He couldn't remember if the facts he remembered about gorgons came from the wizarding world, from his muggle schooling, or from a movie Dudley had watched with his friends while Harry dusted the picture frames on the walls. When he heard Hagrid exclaim, "galloping gorgons!" when he got surprised, Harry decided to visit Hagrid with Blaise later that day to see what the half-giant would let slip about gorgons being involved.
Unfortunately, Hagrid denied it straight off, and not in a nervous bumbling way that showed he was lying. "Nah, good guess, Harry, but Dumbledore's checked fer that. Besides," Hagrid pushed aside the dead rooster randomly sitting on his counter to reach the plate of rock-hard cauldron cakes, putting one on Harry's plate and topping up Blaise's tea even though Blaise had only taken a single sip before grimacing and putting his cup down on the nearest flat surface, "Gorgons prob'ly hate bein' cold—bein' part snake an' all. I 'spect most would do jussabout anythin' ter avoid a Scottish winter. They're intelligent, strong willed, an' don' live longer 'n most witches, makin' it unlikely Slytherin stashed one here a full thousan' years ago. Rare too—almos' never leave their native Greece, though I did hear tell o' one a few centuries back marryin' a blind wizard an' followin' 'im overseas ter America."
"Ew, someone actually married one? Even blind, it would be hard to miss the snakes," Blaise shuddered and wrinkled his nose.
Harry tried to picture how that'd work. "Maybe he… really liked snakes? Or getting his head scratched?" As long as the snakes were nice, it might not be too bad.
Hagrid chuckled. "Love kin 'appen wi' anyone. Jus' take me ma an' pa." He slapped his knee and took a big gulp of tea, missing the baffled look Harry and Blaise exchanged on trying to imagine how a giant even bigger than Hagrid and a human worked as a couple.
"The gorgon in America did petrify a bunch o' slavers an' impor'nt but corrupt officials, so I 'spose she caused a spot o' trouble, but yanno, gorgons 'r actually very sweet."
Harry rolled his eyes at Blaise when Hagrid wasn't looking. Hagrid was a kind man, but his opinions on dangerous creatures were not to be trusted. It was probably one of the reasons why Hagrid's favorite person in the world was Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard alive. Dumbledore often acted kind, absent-minded, eccentric, and grandfatherly, but everyone in Slytherin knew he had to be a thousand times more dangerous than he seemed considering the things he'd done and the power he wielded behind the scenes over so many people and governments.
"Now yer gorgons," Hagrid continued, "they're jus' misunderstood 'cause most a 'em are considered ugly. They can't stand injustice or evil, 'specially when done by a man, so they're sorta like unicorns in not likin' males... 'cept unicorns won' hunt men down an' turn 'em ter stone or rip their arms an' legs off if'n you make 'em mad." Hagrid shrugged and tossed a cauldron cake into his mouth, crunching down and missing the way Blaise and Harry flinched at his description.
"Wouldn't it be broken instead of ripped into pieces since the men were already stone?" Harry asked, fascinated by how strong Hagrid's teeth were as they easily pulverized the hard cauldron cake in seconds, speaking of things that were like stones.
"No," Blaise said, "gorgons just petrify people, like Creevy and Mrs. Norris. It's not an actual transfiguration."
Hagrid pointed a finger the size of a baguette at them. "Yeh'd think, but there're differen' types o' head snakes an' effects dependin' on the region where they're born, though no one's survived long enough ter study 'em all. We jus' know that nowadays, wizards who run inter gorgons are sometimes foun' petrified, sometimes foun' as statues, and other times ripped ter itty bitty gobs o' flesh an' blood an'—" he looked at their wide-eyed faces and winced "—shouldn'ta said tha'. Anyhow, back when wizards invented Mandrake Potion, some gorgons go' offended an' taught themselves how ter send their snakes ter sleep fer a bit. Not because they're ashamed o' their power or scared o' wizards, but because rippin' an evil man inter pieces by hand meant he'd stay gone fer good instead o' comin' back fer revenge. Some also found the sprays o' blood an' screams of pain more satisfyin' than the silence o' petrification or stone, but tha's jus' hearsay." He looked at them and winced again. "Prob'ly shouldn'a said tha' either."
"Lovely," Blaise's face was screwed up as he shivered. "That's nicely gruesome. Sounds like Valeria, maybe they're related. Also, remind me to never vacation in Greece—or the Americas now that they have gorgons too. I'm surprised they let one emigrate from Greece."
Sighing gustily, Hagrid brushed crumbs out of his beard. "It was a big ol' scandal back 'n the day. Mandrakes are hard ter grow in America, makin' the Mandrake Restorative Potion more 'n most could afford. Greece initially got in trouble with the ICW fer lettin' her leave, though in the end the charges didn' stick 'cause a big clan o' Veela got involved when the ICW tried ter pass a law that semi-humans shouldn' be allowed ter marry pure humans or inherit property an' that semi-humans shouldn'a bin allowed ter leave a country withou' a bill o' sale. Veela get very touchy 'bout anyone implyin' they're not good enough ter marry, much less that people should be able ter sell 'em like slaves. Yeh don' wanna Veela mad at yeh because tha' leads ter fireballs 'n painful screechin' an' yer beard gettin' half burned off an'—" Hagrid patted his beard mournfully before glancing up and cutting himself off. "Not that I'd know, o' course." He looked to the side and grimaced, obviously lying.
Harry blinked for a moment before asking, "What's a Veela?"
Blaise explained about Veela being gorgeous semi-human magical beings who had a natural allure could entice people to do crazy things to impress them, but that when they lost their temper they turned into scary bird-like creatures that threw fireballs.
"Yikes," Harry said, sitting back on his chair. "But Hagrid, isn't it possible that a gorgon could've come to Hogwarts recently and started petrifying people? It fits the evidence."
"Dumbledore said it isn't a gorgon and so it isn't. Yeh kin always trus' Dumbledore," Hagrid said firmly.
Harry sighed, a little frustrated by the answer, though Harry had a lot of trust in the headmaster too. "Well, are you sure you don't know what else it could be?"
Frowning, Hagrid shook his massive head slowly. "Wish I did. Mebbe then we wouldn' have so many people jumpin' at shadows an' pointing fingers at innocen' creatures an' people jus' 'cause they look differen'..." His expression became unusually dark and brooding as he trailed off, glaring darkly at the floor between his feet.
"Hagrid?" Harry leaned forward and put a hand on the half-giant's enormous knee. "Are you alright?"
Blinking, Hagrid forced a smile on his face. "Right enough. Dumbledore'll figure it out before long an' that Mandrake Potion'll restore the victims in jus' a few more months, so don' yeh kids worry none. It'll all work out. Trus' in Dumbledore, yeh?"
Dissatisfied and wishing he could just figure out who the monster petrifying people was and get the creepy voice in the walls to stop, not to mention make sure no one else got hurt, Harry made the mistake of taking a bite of Hagrid's cauldron cake without soaking it in tea for a few minutes first and almost broke a tooth. The sweetness of the bit he'd scraped off didn't make up for the bruised gums and aching in his jaw. Feeding the rest of it to Fang when Hagrid was distracted, Harry and Blaise made small talk for a few more minutes before returning to the castle.
-oo0oo-
Most students didn't bother looking for a creature, instead focusing on finding out who the heir of Slytherin in charge of the monster was and blaming them. The consensus was that it had to be someone in Slytherin, with Harry as the most popular person to blame, though Draco was rather proud to be a close runner up after Flint and Valeria. The distrust was uncomfortable, though most of the school was merely annoying about it except for the cocky, outspoken Gryffindors.
Gryffindors were always the worst. Not only did they keep reminding people how they'd been saying for years that everyone sorted into Slytherin was dark and evil, but they also kept making fun of Harry for what had happened in the recent Quidditch match, which was frankly a whole lot more irritating. In shared classes and when passing in the hallways, they made sure to start loudly talking about how Harry missed an easy grab at the Snitch, fallen off his broom, and had to be saved from cracking his head open by their reserve Seeker in her very first game ever, making it sound like he was even more pitiful because a reserve instead of main line member had been forced to rescue him, nevermind that their main Seeker had played horribly and injured himself out.
They also thought what had happened with Lockhart was hilarious. "Remember how Potter looked when his arm went all boneless and floppy?" someone would call, to which most of the nearby Gryffindors would chorus, "Fell off with a plop, then his arm flopped!" before dissolving into mean laughter.
Rolling his eyes, Blaise kept telling Harry to ignore it for now so he could rub Slytherin's victory in their faces later. "They're just trying to get the rest of the school to forget how horribly they played that game and that the only reason they didn't lose is sheer dumb luck. If your hair had been that long and bushy, we'd have caught the Snitch instead and won by a landslide."
Harry swallowed and tried to play along. "So you're saying I should grow out my hair?" He sent Blaise a faint, sideways smile, grateful for his support even if ignoring the other voices wasn't quite that easy.
"Oh definitely, the longer the better. Then we can have braiding parties in our room at night." Blaise sounded completely earnest before he dissolved into laughter and threw an arm over Harry's shoulder to pull him into their next class, ignoring the elbow Harry dug half-heartedly into his side.
Ron Weasley was one of the loudest voices in pointing out to everyone how Harry must be evil. His most important evidence for this seemed to be that Harry had betrayed everyone's expectations for the Boy-Who-Lived by being sorted into Slytherin. Weasley acted like Harry had personally betrayed him by not joining him in Gryffindor after they'd spoken on the train, despite the fact that the Sorting Hat made the final choice, not the child. It got to the point that Harry was seriously tempted to stop discouraging his roommates from bullying others and instead help them corner the redhead after class to teach him a lesson in shutting up. Harry might've also been responsible for loosening the cap of Weasley's inkwell so it spilled in his bag and heating the chocolates he'd smuggled into class so they melted all over his books, but if asked by anyone outside Slytherin, he would claim ignorance.
As for Hermione, Gryffindor's reserve Seeker extraordinaire, every time Harry even looked at her his stomach filled with what felt like wiggling snakes. He didn't know what to think about that, so he tried not to look at her at all. She'd betrayed him and stolen his Snitch! She'd made him a laughingstock in the halls and turned half of Slytherin against him when he'd lost the game! She'd lost him respect and prestige! He kept expecting her to join in on the teasing and really twist the dagger home, but she never even looked at him anymore, much less talked to him, as if he had been the one to hurt her feelings instead of the other way around. She was also impossible to ignore because her curls were just too big and her voice too ringing when she spoke in class, which was constantly since she always had her hand up to answer a question and got called on regularly to demonstrate a new technique the rest of them hadn't gotten as quickly.
Though to be honest, she looked more sad than smug lately, which just twisted him up even more. Were her new friends not treating her right? He shouldn't care that she was unhappy. He shouldn't want to fix it.
And he definitely shouldn't put himself at risk to protect her, but somehow, he just couldn't help himself when he turned a corner and glanced over to see Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, the two most socially powerful Slytherin girls in his year, tormenting Hermione in the shadow of a big ugly statue of a hag riding a hippogriff. Millicent had a hand fisted in Hermione's hair—was touching her curls—and had twisted Hermione's head down so Pansy could say something mean in her ear. Hermione's wand had fallen to the floor and rolled out of reach.
"No! You! Don't!" Harry shouted without thought, rushing forward. His heart raced and everything became crystal clear in the hall, the slant of Millicent's and Pansy's fingers, the angle of their wands, and the curve of the brown curls falling into Hermione's watering eyes and catching on her pain-twisted lips. "How dare you." Harry's voice shook, but with rage, not fear. "Let her go. Now," he snapped harshly, prepared to toss them back and blast them with the strongest jinx he knew.
The two girls jumped away from Hermione as if burned, turning to look at him with eyes wide enough to show the whites. Harry hadn't known before that moment if he ranked above or below the girls in his year because they'd never really clashed in any of the dominance games played in his house. Now was as good a time as any to find out.
"What—Potter?" Pansy stuttered, looking over at Millicent. "We were just—just—"
"—just getting back at her for what happened during the game," Millicent finished uneasily.
"Yeah." Pansy tossed her hair back, took a breath, and lifted her chin, stepping away from Hermione to meet Harry's eyes and try to stare him down. She was taller than he was after the last summer and seemed to gain courage from the fact that she was looking down at him as they went toe to toe. "What's your problem? Don't you want revenge for losing the game?"
Harry was used to being smaller than everyone else. It was part of his calculations but never a deciding factor. "If I want revenge, I'll take it myself," he bit out.
Grabbing hold of his temper, he tried to think through the pulsing anger filling his ears with static. He probably couldn't win against them if they started throwing around spells or punches. Pansy was manipulative, ambitious, and cunning. Her cousins had taught her several nasty jinxes outside of school and she had a knack for getting other girls, even those a little older, to follow her around and go along with her plans. Millicent was cunning too, but she was also a big girl who had a problem keeping her temper. When she lost it, she'd wrestle her opponent to the floor and sit on their back or put them in a headlock, keeping them too distracted to cast magic. He'd seen her take down Vincent once when he'd pulled the tail of her cat.
Taking them on together hadn't been one of his brightest ideas. Somehow, Harry had to say something to keep them off balance. "We didn't lose the game, Pansy, we tied... unless you've been telling people otherwise and besmirching the reputation of our house?" He channeled Valeria into his stare and leaned forward, forcing her to take a small step back as she flinched away, tipping the scales of power in his direction.
"N—no, of course not." Pansy looked away and tugged at the hem of her robe, conceding. Millicent hunched her shoulders and crossed her arms, making herself smaller as she dropped her eyes too.
"Good." Harry nodded slowly and looked between her and Millicent, seeing from the corner of his eye Hermione watching them warily as she crouched down to pick up her wand.
As soon as Hermione had it in her hand again her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed on Millicent's back. It looked like they hadn't had time to do anything but give her a little scare and prick her pride. He wanted to go to her but he had to deal with Pansy and Millicent first for daring to hurt his friend—Harry cut off that thought sharply. Hermione wasn't his friend, not anymore, but... that didn't mean he knew how to look away while someone tried to hurt her. Not when he could stop it.
Licking his lips, Harry took a deep breath and focused back on Pansy. "Look, Granger's off-limits, understand?"
Pansy pursed her lips petulantly and let her eyes drift over his shoulder. "Whatever," she muttered rebelliously.
Harry's eyes flicked to the shifting red fringe on Hermione's scarf as she slowly stepped away from the group of distracted Slytherins and in the direction of the more public hallways. It gave him an idea. "Weasley on the other hand…" he said leadingly, tilting his head, wagging his eyebrows, and giving Pansy a little smirk, which she grudgingly returned after a few seconds.
Millicent huffed and dropped her arms. "That Ron Weasley is the worst. I swear, he glares if one of us so much as sneezes in his direction and purposely bumps into my desk to make my ink spill. Last week he stepped on Daphne's bag and cracked a present from her mum." She smacked her wand into her palm and scowled.
Wrinkling her nose, unfortunately making it look even more pug-like, Pansy nodded decisively. "Yeah, someone should take Weasley down a few pegs." She pushed a lock of dark hair off her face and cleared her throat, glancing at Harry from the corner of her eye. "You want in, Potter?"
"Sure," Harry said easily, more than willing to make trouble for Weasley. "And call me Harry." He looked up just in time to catch Hermione aiming a disappointed and hurt look his way. Harry held her gaze, refusing to let her see him flinch. She didn't get to look at him like that after he'd just saved her, much less after the way she'd betrayed him to her new team—her new friends.
Turning away, Hermione slipped around the corner and disappeared, making everything look suddenly duller and giving him a sour stomach.
-oo0oo-
After a couple of weeks with Valeria's words bouncing around in his head and regularly knocking things loose, not to mention the rumors about him finally dying down to a simmer as juicier gossip replaced it, Harry calmed down, looked at his own reactions with a more critical eye, and decided that maybe he did need to take more responsibility for his actions instead of creating excuses. It took another week, a chat with Hagrid, an even more uncomfortable chat with Blaise, several searching stares from across the room from Hermione, and numerous long walks around the castle grounds to admit that maybe not everything that had gone wrong had been Hermione's fault.
The bludger had clearly been all Dobby, not Hermione, and a large number of Slytherins and Gryffindors had already decided they disliked him based on rumors and reputation way before the match had even started.
Hermione also, maybe, possibly might not have kept her status on the Gryffindor team a secret from him on purpose to betray him on game day. Maybe. The first time he'd seen her after tryouts, he'd pantomimed making the Slytherin team and she'd mouthed something back with a smile. He'd written it down on his notes for the day as, "meow, ID goo, butona reori," which he'd later dismissed as nonsense when it hadn't related to the potion they'd made, but, looking back at the words, maybe she'd actually been trying to tell him something important. Playing with the sounds and a spare piece of parchment, he realized that she could've been mouthing, "me too, I did too, but on the reserve team." If so, that meant she had tried to tell him ahead of the game. Possibly.
And after that she'd tried to talk to him several times but he'd been too busy making new friends and allies to make time for her, assuming she'd still be there waiting when he wanted her—which, yes, selfish, he could admit that now—and then the Weasleys had kept her away from him once he decided he wanted his friend back again. So from her perspective it was possible that she thought that he was the one being the bad friend. Potentially. Despite searching his memories, he also couldn't think of a single time that she'd personally avoided him. Not until now, at least. Now they were both avoiding each other.
When Madam Hooch had sought him out after the game, Harry had learned that she'd been distracted a few critical seconds by the other Bludger hitting the tail of Draco's broom and causing him to spin out of control and take two Gryffindors and the Quaffle with him, leading to all three players slamming into the side of a tower and then getting into a slap fight as they tried to get untangled and take possession of the Quaffle, bringing in the rest of the players to brawl. Madam Hooch hadn't seen Harry falling off his broom until the last second. If Hermione hadn't caught him falling from that high up, he might've smashed his head open and died despite the cushioning charms or become a drooling vegetable that even magic couldn't fix. It had happened to other players over the years—that's why everyone had to sign a waiver to play. And after they'd landed, safely thanks to Hermione, she'd even cried and seemed frantic to make sure he was okay, which didn't really fit in with the idea of a conniving traitor who mocked him behind his back and spilled all his secrets to her teammates. It might fit a Slytherin, but not a Gryffindor like Hermione.
In fact, the only secret the Weasley twins had flung in his face had been Hermione's place on the reserve team. Even their use of the word "freak" could've been a coincidence, as they hadn't used it since despite singing the Lost Snitch Floppy Arm song every time they saw him for a week straight. If she'd told them more damning or embarrassing things, surely they'd have used them by now. Self-control wasn't in the Weasley vocabulary.
Hermione also never joined in with Ron Weasley, Thomas, and Finnigan when they started in on Harry during class, or squealed with exaggerated fear when he moved too close like Brown and Patil. She especially didn't stare at him with creepy eyes during meals and write down everything he said or did in her diary like the Weasley sister.
All in all, it looked like Hermione maybe, possibly, might still be the good person he'd always thought she was. Which, if that was true, probably—no, he could be honest in the privacy of his thoughts—definitely meant that he owed her an apology for the things he'd said and done.
However, just thinking about walking up to her in the middle of class or the hallway with everyone watching and listening in as he apologized made him squirm. Plus, if he was wrong and she fooled him twice, Harry didn't think his heart could take it. He kept poking at what had happened and imagining all the ways his trying to talk to her could go wrong until his head throbbed like a sore tooth. He didn't know what to do. He missed Hermione, but a Slytherin had his pride. He was afraid to take the risk. If only she would apologize to him so he could magnanimously forgive her and not lose any face... though to be fair, any apology from her would be very short while each day his just seemed to get longer and longer. In the end, he kept putting it off, hoping the problem would somehow solve itself.
-oo0oo-
In the weeks after that first game, with the tense atmosphere in the school and the dangerous nature of some of the older members of his house who'd taken a more open stand against him, it was snidely suggested to Harry that he not travel alone in case of ambush. It was like living in fear of Dudley and his friends all over again, except this time the bullies could attack from a distance because of magic and do more than just punch and kick. Harry hated feeling powerless.
In fact, he refused to be powerless. Wasn't he a wizard too? Wasn't he a Slytherin? Harry evaluated his weaknesses and made a plan. He decided to ask an older and more experienced student to teach him a few good jinxes and counters for the next time he got cornered. Harry was tired of running away from bullies. If he got attacked, he wanted to make them regret it and teach them not to do it again—to him or anyone else.
Harry decided to ask Terence and Miles. When they easily agreed to help, he asked to keep their lessons private, wanting his enemies to underestimate him. It seemed like everything had worked out easier than he'd hoped for.
However, they weren't quite sneaky enough when they started meeting. Draco noticed Harry sneaking off with the two older boys and threw a fit, demanding to know if Harry was getting private Quidditch lessons so he could take over Draco's Chaser spot. Irritated, Harry considered confirming the theory just to be difficult, but decided that in the end it wasn't worth the hassle. On hearing that Harry was actually just learning advanced jinxes and other defensive spells, Draco told the rest of their roommates and they all got excited and insisted on tagging along for the next lesson. Unfortunately for Draco and the rest of Harry's roommates, Valeria had also noticed Harry, Terence, and Miles slipping off together and decided to investigate.
Harry probably should've expected it. After training him, Valeria had gotten very proprietary. Even after he lost the match she hadn't let up, ambushing him regularly and interrogating him to make sure he was keeping up with his training, wasn't falling behind in classwork, and was eating a good balance of vegetables and protein and not gorging on pudding.
When he accidentally let slip that he wasn't sleeping well, she got Flint to find him a new pillow and got someone who owed her a favor to fetch dreamless sleep potion from Snape without letting on who they were really for.
She claimed that it was pure self-interest because she needed to watch Harry closely and make sure he got powerful enough to make calling in his debt to her worth it. However, it didn't feel like she was just shaping a future tool. Beneath her scary demeanor, she acted sort of like a bossy and mildly abusive older sister. Privately, he kinda liked it. He wasn't used to someone checking up on him, especially not because they cared about him. It was nice feeling cared for.
Sometimes, Harry wondered what had happened in Valeria's past to make her so harsh on the outside when she had such a good heart on the inside, but he was never brave enough to ask. Whatever it was had to have been something pretty bad, considering how she kept most people at a distance and could lash out at anyone who tried to get too close. Even Flint wasn't immune, though so far he'd managed to shrug it off enough to keep dating her. Harry worried that she'd been raised like him and didn't know how to love or be loved, but had no idea how to fix that for either of them.
From what Blaise had been able to find out from the rumor mill and Pansy Parkinson—a distant cousin of Valeria who'd only spoken to Blaise because she owed him a favor and he'd promised to keep her involvement absolutely secret and do all of her homework assignments for a week—Valeria's grandfather had been one of Grindelwald's followers back in Spain but had managed to buy himself out of any serious punishment. A few decades later he'd squandered his fortune, so he sold (or married off if you wanted to be technical) his fourteen year old daughter to a rich British wizard in his eighties. Valeria had been born just a few years later, soon followed by a little sister. Her father had children from previous wives but they were all adults by the time Valeria was born. Pansy didn't know much about them except that one of the half-brothers lived off and on in a wing of the family mansion and had made Pansy uncomfortable the few times she'd met him. Valeria's mother had died while trying to birth a third child. Valeria's little sister—who'd rarely been seen at family gatherings according to Pansy—had died just after turning eleven. Valeria's father had not remarried, though the average wizard lived to around 137 years old so supposedly he still could. It would be gross, especially considering he preferred his wives to be barely out of puberty, but being wealthy let people get away with a multitude of sins.
Harry wasn't sure if knowing any of that would help, but he tucked it away just in case, making Blaise promise not to tell anyone else and trying to keep Valeria's tragic background in mind when she was being particularly vexing.
Both Ravenclaws and Slytherins believed that knowledge was power, but where Ravenclaws focused on facts and the written word, Slytherins focused on relationships and motivations. It was almost impossible to keep a secret for long in the Slytherin dungeons, though at least Harry wasn't dim enough to boast about what he did to everyone in the common room like some people. Despite word getting around in Slytherin that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened fifty years before, no one had even a hint of who'd done it this time (despite some idiots boasting and trying to claim credit in a transparent attempt to gain more status), which made Harry wonder if it wasn't someone who'd been sorted into another house. Since he didn't have any proof, Harry listened for more clues before doing anything big to try and exonerate himself in front of the rumormongers. He was still more impulsive and reckless than the ideal Slytherin, but he was trying to get better and had five more years to improve himself.
Not that Valeria was the ideal either. Like most Slytherins, she insisted on knowing as much as possible about what was going on with people, but just because she knew all of the alliances and enmities and who owed whom a favor didn't mean she had the desire or inclination to cultivate and maintain a network of relationships. She was a control freak with a short temper and an unwillingness to trust others or let down her guard. The most successful Slytherins didn't scare people into helping them, they made people want to help them or even think helping was their own idea. Successful leaders had charisma.
For example, people often helped Flint because they admired him and saw him as helping them and hurting their enemies. Helping Flint meant helping themselves by making the Slytherin reputation more powerful and prestigious. When Slytherin house won, all Slytherins won, especially because everyone up to and including Headmaster Dumbledore didn't want them to. (Harry respected Dumbledore a lot, but he did unfairly favor Gryffindor.)
When Harry's roommates insisted on tagging along to his tutoring with Terence and Miles, Valeria had waited for almost ten minutes before stepping out and scared them all half to death. As Harry awkwardly explained how he wanted to defend himself better from other students and how few defense spells he knew considering the bad quality of his DADA teachers over the last two years—Blaise interjecting that you'd think someone possessed by Voldemort would actually know a lot about the Dark Arts versus the nothing they'd actually gotten with Quirrell, not to mention the uselessness of Lockhart's current magical fumbling and mirror gazing—Harry braced himself for Valeria's disappointment and another lecture on taking personal responsibility.
Instead, Valeria had interrogated the other second year boys while Terence and Miles sat meekly against the wall out of her way. When she'd seen that most of them were similarly ignorant in spellcraft, she'd gone off on a rant at the slipping standards in Slytherin House and the failure of both Hogwarts and their families in teaching them to protect themselves. She made particular note that even the purebloods weren't up to snuff, which had Harry turning away from Theo and Draco to hide a smirk.
Valeria had very strong feelings about how things should and should not be done, making it clear that none of the second year boys were up to her standards. Despite that, she didn't do anything except tell them about it and then stalk off. Everyone else breathed a sigh of relief and went back to what they were doing. Harry, however, couldn't shake the feeling that they'd gotten off too easy.
Several days later, Valeria strode up to Harry and his roommates where they were studying at a table on one side of the sparsely populated common room and—giving no warning—cast a spell that shoved all their things off of the table and onto their laps, covering everyone in spilled ink, loose quills, scrolls, and food crumbs.
Everyone else in the room—on hearing their shocked cries and seeing Valeria standing over their table—immediately jumped to their feet and fled, leaving Harry and his roommates alone and at the mercy of Valeria's temper.
"Hey! What was that for?" Draco asked petulantly, brushing futilely at the ink splattered down his front from wrist to chin. He'd been in an awful mood ever since reading his father's letter this morning. "These robes are boutique." Looking up, he sucked in a quick breath as if for courage and raised his chin arrogantly. "Wait until my father hears about this," he threatened, looking confident unless you knew him well enough to recognize the nervous thinning of his lips.
Worried about Valeria's reaction to Draco's attitude, Harry surreptitiously slid his chair to the side to get more distance from where Draco sat on the other side of the table. He wished he could stand up and leave too, but that would probably draw too much attention. Valeria liked him, but that didn't mean she wouldn't hurt him a little if she felt like it would teach him a useful lesson.
Thankfully Valeria completely ignored Draco's complaints and Harry's shuffling, putting her hands on her hips as she surveyed them. "I have an announcement, my helpless little snakes." She had a strange glint in her eye that made Harry sink down lower in his chair and hold his breath, despite knowing that the sturdy table couldn't possibly protect him from whatever she was about to say or do.
"I have two more years here at Hogwarts and during that time you are all going to owe me quite a lot. Your families are going to owe me too, so do feel free to tell them about me." She sent a hard look at Draco that made him swallow loudly, the cocky look on his face cracking. She smirked. "You'll be pleased to hear that I'm thinking of becoming a Professor after graduation." Eyes wide, Blaise sent Harry a look of panic. "I don't like people," Valeria waved her hand languidly, "but then again neither does Professor Snape and he's successfully taught here for years. To explore this career impulse, I've generously decided to sacrifice my free time and start tutoring you in Defen—"
Looking appalled, Draco put his hands on the arms of his chair as if to stand up and interrupted her mid-word, "I really don't think—"
Eyes going flat, Valeria flicked her wand and snapped an incantation. Violet light streamed from the tip of her wand as white goo coated the lower half of Draco's face, muffling his words and stretching and dribbling in long white strands onto his ink-splattered robes as he tried to keep talking. The goo spread and thickened, sticking his chair to the floor and his hands and legs to the arms of the chair. Summoning Draco's wand out of his robes before he could even think to grab at it, Valeria tossed it into a white puddle on the floor.
Everyone else at the table froze like mice under the eyes of a hungry snake, trying not to catch her attention and get eaten next.
Grimacing lightly, Valeria shook her head. "Really, Draco. You don't think—that's the problem and it's going to get you and the people you care about hurt, assuming you do care about anyone but yourself. In fact, I feel like my first lesson should be about you. Let's talk social politics, shall we? As a Malfoy, great things are expected of you, yes? Yet if we contrast your father's lofty reputation with your underwhelming conduct, inconsistent behavior, and the lackluster tenor of your alliances since coming to Hogwarts, well, I would think that even you would realize that it's only the turn of your face and distinctive coloring that's stopping people from loudly questioning your Malfoy heritage, not to mention your future prospects. No one's impressed by a boy getting his face turned into a fruit salad."
"Valeria," Harry protested through fear-numb lips, but she just shot him a sharp look to shut him up. Harry fisted his trembling hands on his thighs, afraid to intervene and be the next one to get hurt, afraid that whatever he said would just make things worse for all of them.
Valeria tsked and turned back to Draco with a curled lip. "If something doesn't change soon, you're going to end up a lackey instead of a leader and a poor one at that, no matter how loudly you bark about your father being a big dog or how often you beg scraps from his table as gifts to impress others. Someone stronger than you is going to chew you up and—as soon as your flavor falls out of favor—spit you out into the trash. No one will want you then. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if your father regularly tells you the same thing, maybe even started humiliating you privately in front of his friends last summer where he left you alone before. I'm sure he's been doing it to your mother for years, but she was able to protect you until you started school and got old enough to be useful." Draco's eyes had gone glassy and his skin as pale as his hair, Valeria's words obviously stabbing straight to his heart and slicing him open from chest to navel.
Valeria stalked behind Draco's chair, unexpectedly fisting a hand in his hair and yanking his head back as far as it would go, staring down into his face with eyes that glittered like shattered glass. "Being a pretty child just makes it worse. How long will he protect you from the appetites of the men who eat at his table? Especially if it puts him at risk? Will he be able or even willing to protect you from the rising darkness?" Eyes rolling and nostrils flaring wide, Draco fought for air, the cords of his neck straining like deep roots resisting being pulled from the ground. He obviously couldn't breathe, but Valeria just held the stretch and stared through him, almost as if she wasn't seeing Draco at all as she whispered, "You can't trust their promises. They won't protect you and you're still too weak to protect anyone else."
"Stop." Harry found himself standing. He couldn't take another second of Draco being hurt like this, not if he wanted to look himself in the eye later. It wasn't in him. He didn't bother going for his wand, knowing that any magical duel would probably be lost before he got out a single spell. "Please stop, Valeria. He can't breathe and you're hurting him. You're a good person. You're better than this. Stop. Valeria."
Blinking rapidly, she finally looked over and then up at Harry's face. Frowning ferociously, she snapped, "Sit. Down." Despite the menacing tone, Harry held her gaze and stayed standing, refusing to back down.
Focused on Harry, she loosened her grip enough that Draco could drop his chin. Draco sucked air in loudly and desperately through flaring nostrils, sobbing for breath and making the white goo around his mouth form a bubble before it lost air and sagged down his chin and throat.
"Harry," she snapped, "sit." Her wand spat out a stinging jinx that stabbed at his legs ferociously, like being stung by a swarm of angry wasps. Flinching at the pain, Harry exhaled raggedly and lifted his chin, stubbornly locking his rapidly swelling knees and continuing to stare at her in mute protest. Valeria's eyes narrowed. Her lips parted, showing a hint of teeth and a crooked left incisor. Harry braced himself for another attack, the only sound in the room Draco's labored breathing.
After a long, drawn out moment she lowered her wand and looked away dismissively, turning back to Draco and giving his cheek a hard double tap. "I just want Draco to listen and learn his lesson about interrupting. You are listening now, aren't you Draco?"
The fingers in Draco's hair tightened while she waited for an answer. Draco forced a sound of agreement past the white goo covering his mouth. "Mmph-hmm."
"And you won't interrupt me again?"
"Mm-mm." Draco shook his head as much as he could with her dark fingers still fisted in his pale hair like winter-bare branches cutting up the pale moonlight. Two tears trickled down Draco's cheeks.
The corners of Valeria's mouth turned down as she looked up and around at the rest of them, pausing for a heavy moment on where Harry was still standing, before returning to gaze down at Draco. "I say this to your face instead of behind your back because I am a good person. I'm trying to help you. You need to be strong to survive. The world is cruel and unfair, especially to children." Her face sagged. "Either be powerful enough to protect yourself and those you love or align yourself with someone powerful enough to do it for you." Her lips twisted bitterly. "And make sure they can't betray their promises. They will if they can get away with it." She drew in a ragged breath. "You have to learn when to sink to your knees and keep your own council and when to stay standing and fight." Her words resonated in Harry's mind, true enough except for how they failed to mention ideas like mercy, kindness, and friendship.
She started stroking Draco's hair, smoothing it back into place. "Slytherin is the hardest house at Hogwarts because it breaks you down before building you back up. We are surrounded by enemies here and nothing is easy, yet at the same time it is perhaps the safest place to sculpt yourself into something new because we are all becoming together. Open your eyes and learn." She looked around the table again, pausing on each of their faces as she spoke. "Learn the humility to subordinate yourself to a stronger power and learn. Compensate for your weaknesses and hone your strengths. Learn to protect yourself and whether you are strong enough to protect others. Learn how to be either a valued follower or a persuasive leader. Learn what is most important to you and what you will do to keep it. Learn who you are and how to succeed at hard things. Learn how to win."
Putting her hands on Draco's cheeks, she bent her neck and leaned forward, pressing the crown of his head against her body as she stared down into his eyes. "I'm trying to help you, Draco Malfoy. Remember that and don't disrespect me again." More tears escaped Draco's eyes as he blinked in acknowledgement. "Next time, Harry might not be here to remind me I'm trying to be good."
Releasing Draco, Valeria moved back to where she'd started—standing at the head of the table. Her voice sounded slightly brittle as she began again. "You're all weak, but you don't have to stay that way. I'm going to teach you how to keep yourselves safe and how to attack your enemies like a true Slytherin, not some bumbling Hufflepuff, lack-witted Gryffindor, or impractical Ravenclaw. Whether you fail or succeed is up to your aptitude and your attitude. I won't waste my time on the lazy. We will be meeting weekly on Tuesday nights after dinner. Our sessions will also include the second year girls since Pansy is a distant cousin and needs to know how to defend herself. I'll be informing the girls of that shortly. Since I've already cleared the time with Captain Flint to make sure it doesn't conflict with Quidditch practice, the only excuse I'll accept for not attending is... death."
When she lifted her wand everyone at the table sucked in their breath. Valeria's lips curved in a subtle smile. She spoke another unfamiliar spell, sending a ray of blue light at Draco that made the goo turn watery and pale pink. It melted off his body and onto the floor in sickly-sweet smelling puddles as she turned and walked away. No one moved until she was gone.
As soon as Harry heard the click of the common room door closing, his legs gave out and he collapsed down onto his chair, shaking uncontrollably. His legs hurt from knee to hip, hot and swollen from the stinging jinx. He'd known Valeria wasn't to be crossed, but he'd never seen her that terrifying before. He'd grown complacent and been caught by surprise.
Chair scraping loudly, Draco jumped to his feet and turned his back, wiping his face clean with the sleeve of his robe. His shoulders hitched as he fought for breath and composure. Vincent lurched away from the table, his chair clattering to the floor as he ran away down the hall leading to their room. Greg buried his head in his arms and started to sob.
"She's crazy, a nutter, insane!" Theo muttered, rubbing his hands in a constant washing motion.
Blaise gave a shuddering breath and put his hands flat on the table, though that didn't hide their trembling. "It doesn't matter. We have to do what she says."
"But—" Theo started to say before cutting himself off. Sweat dripped down his cheeks and his eyes showed too much white around the edges. Sucking in a breath, he pushed himself to his feet, clumsily gathered up his things, and stumbled away.
Clearing his dry throat, Harry stood up and limped around the table, patting Greg's shoulder soothingly and squeezing once in solidarity. Greg's sobbing quieted but he kept his head down. Harry moved farther down and stooped over to pick up Draco's slimy wand. He cleaned it best he could using the edge of his robe, deliberating over what to say. "Maybe it won't be that bad. Valeria's tough, but she's also a good teacher and knows loads of spells. I'm sure we'll learn a lot from her." He tried to sound positive for his shaken friends.
Harry limped up next to Draco and lowered his voice, "Are you alright?" Draco didn't answer, just turned his head the other way. Undaunted, Harry held out Draco's wand on the flat of his palm. "Here." It took Draco a few seconds to reach out and take it.
"At least we'll be together," Harry pointed out optimistically. "And she's usually not that bad."
Dropping his head, Draco held the wand against his stomach and shrugged one shoulder. When he spoke his voice was raspy and uncharacteristically meek. "She's right. We are weak. We have to obey."
"Obey and get stronger," Blaise said, coming up on Harry's other side. "Let's keep in mind that her main demand is to teach us how to get better. It could be worse, it could be a whole lot worse. If we can learn how to be even a fraction as scary as she is, we'll rule this place when we're older and she's gone. There's power to be had there."
"And a chance for revenge," Draco breathed, head lifting to show the bitter twist of his lips and a muscle twitching at the corner of his goo-streaked jaw. "She humiliated me in front of everyone and I'm going to make her suffer, no matter what I have to do or how long it takes."
"Now hold on," Harry said quickly, despite everything still feeling loyal to Valeria. "Let's put this into perspective. She was coming from a good place in offering to teach us and it wasn't everyone who saw you, just us—your friends. She just as easily could've cast that same spell on any one of us and we all know it." Though the things she'd said had definitely been targeted at Draco's vulnerabilities.
Needing a distraction so the conversation didn't go in that direction, Harry pulled aside his robe to show the way his trousers were now straining at the seams and full of swollen lumps. "Look, that stinging spell she cast on me gave me thighs the size of Hagrid's."
"Cor, Harry, that looks painful." Blaise winced. "And she likes you best."
Harry shrugged, trying to strike the right balance to get his friends to see things his way. "Look Draco, I understand where you're coming from—believe me—but that kind of revenge against a person like her is a bad idea. She does stuff like that to people all of the time. It's not even personal for her. Didn't you see the state of those Hufflepuffs who'd annoyed her last week? Or the study group Professor Sinistra tried to assign to work with her? If we can still respect you after seeing you strutting around starkers after a bath or with drool crusting your cheek and your hair standing on end in the morning, we'll still respect you after this. It's fine."
Draco looked at Harry from the corner of his eye, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, his face solemn. Too solemn. Harry nudged him gently. "Not that I'm saying that I do respect you, Draco, considering how much hair potion you use every morning to get your hair to look so sleek. In fact, that goo Valeria used was probably hair potion sucked from your pores after years of hair potion abuse. We could probably rebottle it if your supply is running low or you want to sell it to your fanclub."
Blaise followed Harry's lead and chuckled, leaning around Harry to look at Draco. "Maybe this is a sign that you should get a new hairstyle. The slicked back helmet look is so first year. I could teach you how to look like me… well, maybe a pale imitation of me. Even you can't surpass the glory of the real thing." He ran a hand through his dark hair and preened.
Draco's eyes rolled and his lips twitched, but he still didn't quite smile. Maybe that was too much to hope for right now.
Over by the door, a long procession of spiders marched through a crack in the wall presumably leading to the hallway. Harry thought about pointing it out, but didn't want Draco to think he was trying to scare him or say that the spiders were obviously scared of Valeria too. He was trying to brighten the mood, not dampen it further.
Hearing a gentle thump behind his back, Harry looked over his shoulder to see Greg gathering up everyone's things from where they'd been scattered by Valeria's initial spell and placing them in careful piles. Maybe worshipful praise would work where friendly teasing had failed. "Hey Greg, what do you think of Draco?" Harry asked leadingly.
Pausing, Greg looked up, his eyelashes still clumped in wet spikes and his cheeks bright red. He bit his lip, shoulders curving forward at being the center of attention. His eyes flicked to the side, but there was no Vincent to hide behind and Draco was one of the people staring at him.
"Well, Goyle?" Draco asked, turning and crossing his arms. His arrogant tone was almost perfect except for the quivery little exhale at the end. Everyone pretended not to notice.
"Of—of c-course I respect you," Greg said slowly, looking earnestly across the table at Draco. "You… you're the person I've chosen to follow. When you decide you want something, you don't let anything hold you back. You're witty, cunning, and ambitious. When people look at me, they see fat, ugly, and stupid. When people look at you, they see rich, handsome, and confident. I've always admired you. I still admire you. Nothing could change that."
As Harry had hoped, Draco's shoulders had relaxed from their tight shape and a pleased smile once more graced his cheeks.
But Greg hadn't finished his slow, deliberate speech. "As for revenge, I kind of agree with Harry. What she did was wrong, but it wasn't malicious. Letting it twist you up and drag you down until you become someone bitter and twisted—well, that's like choosing to take a poison with a hard to find antidote. If a chance comes to get even, of course you should take it—I'll help you to take it—but otherwise I say let it go, learn from it, and move on. Take what she teaches you and use it to make yourself strong enough that it can't happen again." Greg shrugged and looked down diffidently, stacking books and scrolls into piles on the table. "Though of course I'll support you in whatever you choose to do. You always know better than I do. I have your back, just like always. You know that."
Expression now neutral, Draco didn't respond, though he seemed thoughtful. After a moment he moved forward to take his things from Greg. Harry followed quietly, not having anything helpful to add.
AN: Thanks to my awesome beta dizzysappedweak!
Happy Thanksgiving for those in America! I'm thankful for everyone who reads and comments on my story, especially the detailed and supportive comments. You guys are the best! I hope you all had a good day. Despite deciding to do a holiday meal with just the four of us in my family vs the usual 20+ person potluck with my extended family, I ended up making eight dishes and cooking for two days in a row. I have a problem with moderation and went a little crazy trying to make sure the kids and my husband had a good holiday despite the covid restrictions. I ended up donating extras to three other families who are sick or not cooking much this year, but we still have tons leftover. I'm looking forward to the leftovers for tomorrow though! Nevertheless, my feet are killing me and I'm going to bed early after I post this. My 8 yo son just started reading 'Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix.' This series is the first big book series he's ever had the motivation to read, so I'm very proud. I'm worried the later books will be too mature for him and scary, but I'm crossing my fingers. I thought Cedric's death would be too scary but he wasn't that bothered when he actually read it. I told him that if he gets uncomfortable we can talk about it or he can stop reading and get a different book, but maybe I'm just being too much of a worry-wort. Anyway, yay Harry Potter books!
