I own nothing.

The Two Princes of Hogwarts

-Chapter Four

Cedric sighed as he took in the terrifying presence looming over the Hufflepuff breakfast table. "We have got to do something about your public image," he stated firmly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his scarred visage crinkling in confusion.

"Nothing," Cedric replied. He looked down the length of the table and saw a few younger students cowering. The rest knew the score, even if they did look a little nervous. "This is Harry Potter. He's a Hufflepuff from Gryffindor." The younger students relaxed a bit. They were starting to learn the intricacies of being a Hufflepuff, like how some Hufflepuffs happened to be in other houses.

"Hi Potter," Natalie called softly.

"There you are," Harry murmured as he stalked his way down the table a bit. The young girl shrank a little as he looked her up and down. "You can call me Harry. How are you feeling? Any stiffness, aches, numbness?"

"I'm really okay," Natalie stated, gaining a bit of confidence and straightening herself out at the obvious care being shown for her wellbeing. "Everyone stayed up with me to make sure I was okay." Harry shot Cedric an annoyed look.

"I would have come," he stated.

"Would you, or were you getting up to something I don't want to know about?" Cedric asked. Harry looked around awkwardly.

"I would have moved around the thing you don't want to know about," he said finally.

"Of course, you would have, but I guess the thing I don't want to know about was important?" Cedric ventured. Harry's eyes darted about. He could not, for the life of him, look trustworthy at the moment.

"It was about that thing we talked about last night," Harry's eyes shots towards the teacher's table, his lips momentarily pulling into a snarl, "the family thing."

"I see." Cedric was tempted to tell the younger man to keep him in the loop, but maybe Neville had a point. He dithered back and forth for a moment. The last Potter had survived before they had met. He would survive now, but still. . ."Tell me if there's anything I can do to help."

"I will," Harry replied. He gave Natalie a smile that was only boarder line terrifying and swept off to join the Gryffindor table with a swish of slightly out of uniform, tailored black robes. Cedric sighed again. Maybe his dad would have some idea on how to soften the other student's image. Dark avenger of the night may have struck terror into evil doers and confidence in the righteous, but it did nothing to fight the Minister's line on him being scary and unstable. As Cedric pondered this a totally different presence appeared.

"Diggory," Draco stated.

"Malfoy," Cedric returned with a nod. Out of the corner of his eye he could see other Hufflepuffs stoically nodding to the Slytherin. He had told them the whole story about last night.

"Natalie," Draco said as he spotted the student. The blonde smiled but composed himself and strode arrogantly towards the first year with his nose raised imperiously. Cedric thought I was an excellent performance. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Natalie replied, her cheeks turning a little pink. "Potter just came to check on me."

"I'm sure," Draco replied. "Despite his looks and reputation, he is a healer and a good one." Cedric wanted to step in, maybe point out that Draco was almost certainly the cause of said reputation, but nothing the blonde had said was actually wrong. "Though maybe he needs a little practice," Draco added, tapping his scarred eyebrow. The move made Natalie giggle and eyebrows rise around the table. The antipathy between Harry and Draco was well known and Cedric could see imaginations begin to fire up. Oh, he was going to have to nip that in the bud. He sighed as he saw a few nosy Ravenclaws the next table over begin to whisper among themselves. "I'm glad you're feeling better." With that, the Malfoy scion shot her a quick smile, but put on an arrogant look and strutted off.

"God damn it," Cedric mumbled as he massaged his temples. Good and evil were supposed to be much more obvious. He frowned as he picked up his pumpkin juice. At what point did good deeds exceed evil intention? Actually, at what point did it stop mattering?

Oh, he was going to have to have a long conversion with Pomona and his dad about this over several glasses of adult beverages.

(:ii:)

Draco tried not to look too smug as he took his place at the Slytherin table. Putting in an appearance right after Potter had been an excellent move if he did say so himself. Potter as the terrifying force of good and himself as the "evil Slytherin" who secretly cared a bit too much. Even Diggory hadn't managed to fault his little jab at the last Potter. Maybe he was also a little happy that Natalie was okay. She was too young to understand the situation and didn't deserve the pain she had experienced.

"Bold," Gregory commented.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Draco stated gamely, "and fortune favors the bold, or so I've heard."

"The first year is fine?" Gregory pressed.

"Natalie is fine," Draco stated. Gregory made a non-committal grunt at that as he began eating. "Vincent?" The large youth startled at that. Draco had the oddest feeling that the youngest Crabbe had wanted to say something since the previous night. He glanced around. "Vincent, if you can't speak your mind here, we can step out." Vincent glanced around as well before firmly setting his jaw.

"I would like to speak to Potter," he said firmly.

"I'm not your master, you can speak to anyone you like," Draco said, his newly scarred eyebrow rising. He glared at the other Slytherins around him. "If you you're worried about anyone mentioning it, I will make sure they either do not, or face the consequences of betraying my confidence."

"Last night with the brat. . ."

"Natalie," Draco supplied automatically.

"I don't care," Vincent admitted. "That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I want to help Madame Pomfrey and I think talking to Potter would grease the wheels."

"Having a healer at my side could be a boon," Draco pointed out, not because he believed it, but because it would give the large youth an excuse. Draco felt that he was just starting to understand Gregory, but Vincent was still a mystery. Allowing the man what he wanted cost Draco nothing and benefited him a trained healer, possibly, who may have started to lean his loyalty away from Lucius and toward Draco himself. "Now would probably be the best time to speak with him."

"You're right." The large man rose and made his way towards the Gryffindor table.

"Healing," Gregory rumbled, "or maybe just the blood and gore?"

"Whatever makes him happy," Draco replied.

"Happy or more loyal to you?" Gregory ventured.

"Not everything has to be only for my benefit," Draco pointed out. "I have no problem with my friends pursuing their own interests."

"Friend," Gregory stated. He laughed suddenly. "Until I get bored Draco."

"It'll still be a while," Draco replied, "maybe. I have big plans. I just don't know how any of them will work out so I'm still kind of making it up as I go. Maybe I'll just crash and burn in a blaze of glory."

"Interesting," Gregory said.

"Yeah." Draco smiled as he began loading his plate. He was barely in control, maybe even out of control. He was just starting to think that he was seeing the strings he could tease out of the knot and the paths people might take whether he pulled on them or not. Or he was delusional. "Yeah, it is. Fun too."

(:ii:)

"There you are Harry."

"Here I am," Harry admitted as he glanced up to see Angelina standing over him.

"I've been looking for you."

"Sorry, had to check on a patient from last night."

"Oh," the tall women said in understanding. "Anyway, I'm the new captain. We're holding tryouts for keeper on Friday. Be there."

"Will be," Harry agreed. Angelina flashed him a smile and made her way down the table to find somewhere to sit.

"I forgot that Wood graduated," Hermione commented.

"Does this school have sports?" Arkin asked, the topic ripping him away from his amazement at his refilling goblet and the observational journal he was keeping of it.

"We play quidditch," Harry answered the younger student. "It's a wizarding sport that's played on broomsticks." Arkin's eyes went wide at the mention of broomsticks.

"Could I try out?" he demanded eagerly.

"Sorry, no first years," Harry said.

"Mostly," Ron commented, shooting Harry an amused smile.

"Mostly," Harry allowed. He glanced back at Arkin. "You should come though; it'll probably be fun to watch." They were interrupted as another person stopped before them. "Crabbe?" Harry wondered as he stared at the uncomfortable young man before him. "Does Malfoy know you're talking to me?" The large student's face darkened.

"I don't need Draco's permission to do something," he snapped. "I am not a slave." Harry felt a spike of shame at that. His question hadn't really been that appropriate.

"Can we help you?" Hermione ventured. Crabbe scowled at her before turning to face Harry.

"I want to help Madame Pomfrey," he stated firmly.

"What?" Harry sputtered. "You want to become a healer?" Crabbe's scowl lessoned a hair and he glanced around.

"What you did last night with that Hufflepuff brat was the most interesting thing I've ever seen," the Slytherin admitted.

"Natalie," Harry supplied.

"I don't care," Crabbe grunted, "or I do. Whatever lets me into the hospital wing."

"You know, not every case is going to be like last night," Harry stated. "There's lots of sniffles and headaches and students trying to get out of class. Even without patients, there's inventory to take and paperwork to fill out." Crabbe set his jaw. "I'll speak with Madame Pomfrey." Crabbe stared at him in shock.

"Harry?" Hermione ventured.

"There's always too much work to be done," Harry stated. "If Madame Pomfrey wants to dump inventory checklists on him until he quits out of boredom, that's fine with me." Crabbe did a little dance that seemed to consist of him trying to walk away, him nodding, him making a gesture of thanks and him staying still.

"Thank you," he finally rumbled.

"You get a chance," Harry replied. "What you do with it is up to you." Crabbe nodded stoically and walked away.

"Harry?" Ron repeated.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "The hospital wing needs help. He says he wants to help. If I get one good day of paperwork out of him, what does it cost me?" He glanced at them. "I'm not even the final word. The hospital wing is Madame Pomfrey's domain and all I can do is pass along a message. What she says is on her."

"Still," Hermione began, "I can't see him helping injured students."

"He did well with Natalie last night," Harry admitted. "He followed directions without hesitation or complaint. An assistant like that is worth their weight in gold." Harry rose to his feet. "Actually, no time like the present." He made his way to the staff table and paused in front of Poppy.

"Something wrong Harry?" the healer asked.

"Crabbe just asked if he could help out in the infirmary," Harry stated. Poppy's jaw dropped and he just shrugged.

"Crabbe?" Harry nodded. "Vincent Crabbe?"

"I don't. . .maybe?"

"Vincent Crabbe the Slytherin?" Poppy clarified.

"I don't know another Crabbe in Slytherin, so yes," Harry answered. Poppy leaned back in her chair and took a sip from her goblet. "To be fair, and I don't know why I am, he did handle himself well last night. He followed my directions and applied traction to Natalie's leg without hesitation or comment."

"How is she?" Poppy asked.

"No lingering ill effects," Harry reported and the healer nodded in approval.

"He is aware that not everything is going to be blood and gore, correct?" Poppy asked.

"No blood and gore at the table Poppy," Hagrid groaned, setting down the leg of lamb he had been gnawing on. "You know my stomach can't take it."

"Sorry Rubeus," Poppy stated. Harry smiled apologetically and patted his first friend's gigantic hand comfortingly.

"I warned him that he'd be doing inventory and paperwork," Harry said.

"I'll give him a chance," Poppy said after a moment. "Tell him to report to the infirmary after dinner. I will speak with him more then."

"Yes Madame Pomfrey," Harry replied. He turned and made his way towards the Slytherin table with, what felt like, every eye in the Great Hall on him. He stopped in front of Crabbe. "Be at the infirmary after dinner. Madame Pomfrey will speak with you there. It sounds like she's willing to give you a chance. Don't have expectations."

"I see," Crabbe stated. He nodded and Harry turned. He knew a Slytherin would never thank him in front of other Slytherins and didn't take offense at the rub. He returned to his seat and glanced at his friends.

"This is going to be interesting."

"What do you think Malfoy's planning?" Hermione asked.

"If anything, he's planning on getting a healer on his side," Ron stated. "It's helped us plenty, but I don't see Malfoy needing one and one of the two bookends seems like an odd choice."

"I. . .don't think this involved Malfoy," Harry said hesitantly. "He actually just seems really interested. I don't know if that's interest in helping or interest in blood and gore. As long as the outcome for the patient is positive, I really couldn't care which one it is." He glanced around and leaned forward. "Alright, Arkin, this is one of those things you shouldn't hear about, so you should move over a little."

"What shouldn't I hear about?" the first year asked, apparently not quite up to Neville's expectations yet.

"We're just discussing one of the professors," Hermione said with a disarming smile.

"Which one?"

"Professor Umbridge," Harry stated. There wasn't really a point to denying that much.

"I don't like her." Harry and the others glanced at each other before turning their full attention on the first year. "You didn't hear her speech last night?"

"We use a spell to talk sometimes," Hermione explained. "It makes it so that no one can hear us, but we can't hear them either. What did she say?"

"She went on and on about how new things are bad and we must focus on what we have," Arkin answered. "She that that "progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged." A teacher. A teacher said that, can you believe it?" Harry frowned at that. It really didn't seem like something an educator should be telling students. He glanced at the others and flinched back at he caught sight of Hermione and, strangely, Luna. Harry flashed a few hand signs at Ron and the redhead glanced at the women sitting on either side of him. Then he very much looked like he wanted to hide under the table.

"She said that?" Luna snarled. "A call for mediocrity? For complacency and stagnation?"

"Groupthink!" Hermione spat.

"Right?" Arkin demanded, either not understanding the danger, or fully understanding the danger and agreeing completely, which was troubling in its own right.

"Okay," Ron said peaceably as he bravely drew their attention and, potentially, their ire. He rested a hand on each of the witches' shoulders. "We're taking care of this. We already have a plan. No need to go attacking the professors' table."

"Again," Fred called, "right Harry?"

"Fred!" Neville roared, causing a noticeable dip the volume of the conversation in the hall.

"What? Who said that? I didn't say anything! It was George!"

"Don't drag me into this!" George snapped. "I know nothing!"

"The way," the rest of the Gryffindors intoned. There were a few scattered echoes from other tables, including from the direction of the professors' table. Harry quickly dug out his flask, though he wasn't quite sure who for. After a quick, fortifying, sip he shoved it into Hermione's hands and gestured for Ron to make sure that it made its way to the fuming Luna afterwards.

(:ii:)

Harry stood alone outside the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The students inside stared at him in confusion. The bell sounded and the door began to close. Harry caught it and ripped it open before strolling into the room. Dolores Umbridge sat at the front of the classroom with a look similar to a deer in headlights.

"Oh dear," Harry announced, "I seem to be late." The woman's mouth opened and closed a few times. "I said, I seem to be late!"

"Please take your seat Mister Potter," Dolores finally said.

"You really must punish me Professor," Harry stated. "You have to set the precedent."

"I'm sure allowances can be made for the first day," Dolores murmured.

"Absolutely not!" Harry said firmly. "Discipline must be upheld. You cannot appear weak before the students, especially as a first-year professor."

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Neville announced.

"Yes!" Dolores said immediately over Harry's undignified squawk. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Thank you, Mister Longbottom. Ten points for Gryffindor." Everybody paused as they pondered that series of events for a moment.

"I think taking points sends a milquetoast message," Harry insisted. "Really you should take a stronger stance and give me detention."

"Sit down Mister Potter." Harry and Dolores, both stared each other down for a long moment with the women doing a decent job of not looking away first or openly fleeing. Neville cleared his throat loudly and Harry finally let out an aggrieved sigh and planted himself into the empty seat next to the last Longbottom.

"Stay out of this Nev."

"Whatever "this" is, stop it," Neville countered. He wagged a finger firmly in Harry's face. "No."

"I'm not a dog. . ."

"No," Neville interrupted firmly. "No. Bad. Heel." Harry sputtered as he tried to think of any way of coming back from that without looking foolish. Finally, he crossed his arms and scowled petulantly. Dolores stared at the class awkwardly for a long moment before turning to the blackboard behind her. She tapped it and the words Harry hadn't bothered to read were quickly replaced by a list of tenets.

"Now, I understand that your previous lessons were rather fragmented," the woman stated as she turned back to the class. "I plan to rectify that by being very clear with my intentions." She pointed to the three statements on the board. "Copy this."

"Huh." Harry grunted as he read the tenets.

"Anything to add Mister Potter?" Dolores demanded even as Neville buried an elbow in his ribs.

"Uh. . .no Professor," Harry admitted. "Those goals are actually very clear and concise." He paused as he considered his words. "I really appreciate that."

"Thank you?" Dolores managed. Harry frowned and copied down the lines on the board before taking out his flask and knocking back a sip to dispel the pre-fight jitters that had been building up.

"Mister Potter!" the professor shrieked, almost making him drop his flask and draw his wand in surprise. "What is that?"

"It's prescribed medicine Professor," Neville stated.

"Bring that here!" Dolores announced. Harry shrugged and made his way to the front of the class and handed his flask over. The woman sniffed the open spout and recoiled like she had been stung. "This is alcohol!"

"Medicine Professor," Neville corrected.

"Silence Mister Longbottom!" Dolores snarled. She turned her ire back to Harry. "This is alcohol."

"Technically correct," Harry admitted. "It's a tincture of wolfsbane and was prescribed by this school's healer upon the recommendation of. . ."

"I don't know what this school expects, but I will not allow this in my class!" Dolores interrupted.

"Professor. . .that's a prescribed medication," Hermione began.

"Silence girl!" the professor snapped. She turned back to Harry. "I will see you in detention." The room was silent for a moment.

"Sensational!" Harry announced, making everyone jump. "Tonight, after dinner work for you?"

"Yes!" Harry reached for his flask and the woman jerked it away. "You will not have this in my class."

"Professor!" Hermione snapped. "That is a prescribed medication that you are depriving a student from. . ."

"Shut up!" Harry snapped right back. The glare he got from his friend told him that he was going to pay for that as soon as she could get her hands on him. He turned back to the professor. "I understand fully."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," Neville groaned, his forehead meeting the desk in front of him with a thump.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for foul language!" Dolores added. Neville flapped a hand dismissively.

"Sure," he grunted into the wood surface. "Whatever. We'll see if you're even still here tomorrow."

-End

(:ii:)

Uncle's drunken rambles. I'm not going to lie. I almost turned Umbridge into Harry's favorite teacher out of spite and giggles. Her three tenets about understand defensive magic, knowing when you're allowed to use it and practical use are really solid. They read like a lot of defensive shooting classes I've taken. Then the rest of the class happens. I almost made Harry love her just out of misunderstanding her intent and reading into her too literally. Almost. I don't know if I have the talent for twisting words that much. Too honest I suppose.

Also, Crabbe! Surprise! I actually know a lot of medics from back in the day who were addicted to the adrenaline, action and gore of the job. They were fantastic medics despite zero empathy and rarely had burnout. Sadly, the people who sign on specifically to help their fellow man have a real hard time after the first few cases where there is just nothing they could do. Especially children cases. Nobody wants to call in and get a time of death for a toddler, that's if the doctor will even give it.

Trust me.

Listen to me, acting all high and mighty like I didn't fail out on the road as an EMT-P. Still made EMT though.

Anyways, Halloween music this year: failure. It started so well. First song of the season, I Put a Spell on You by Screaming Jack. Bette still did it better, but damn fine start. Then it cut to Eminem and Monster. Fucking Monster. A song I am fairly sure is about an abuser.

Not the kind of monster I like to hear about on Halloween. I like my Halloween monsters to be much more fictional.

Also, super positive response to Arkin. Hey, if I didn't like him, he wouldn't be here, so he's sticking around. For you confused few, youtube Arkin final battle. Now you get it.

If you get that, then maybe you'll get this. Some rich fucks invested in a gun company so that they could try to bankrupt a gun company. Actually, the rich fucks apparently invested in another company that exists as a separate legal entity with the same name as their gun company because they didn't want to tarnish their reputations by having their names appear on an FFL to make guns.

Then they filed a motion to hide that because it makes them look bad or something?

All to destroy a legal American company.

They have so much money, they're just using it to fuck with people now.

Maybe go to KE Arms and buy a patch. If you're a gun guy/gal, go buy a WWSD lower receiver. Thanks to the American legal system, it doesn't matter who is right or wrong, just who is standing at the end with more money. Help an American company employing American people or at least buy a fine America product before you lose the ability to. You Europeans might be able to get in on it too, since I'm pretty sure they've starting exporting.

Get a little taste of America. One was isn't totally delicious and completely homicidal to your cholesterol levels.

Love you. Fuck you. Good night!

-Uncle Jack

P.S. So, Hagrid is dead. Robbie Coltrane passed at 72. I can't find a single bad word on him and never speaking ill of the dead doesn't seem to count for celebrities.

I don't know his other work, but I though he was a great Hagrid and the internet loves to meme him which is kind of like loving somebody and the internet even liking somebody is a big deal.

So, might be weird from some dumb, drunk fan author, but how about we dedicate this whole story to him and all my readers who loved him?