Running into the Head of Slytherin was a tad unsettling, even for Harry and Lucian. Miles was surprisingly unfazed.
"How is it you're more frightened of Thaddeus than of Snape?" Harry asked in a high whisper, as if said Professor would return.
"Well, Snape... he's a Professor, isn't he? He's got more to lose than Thaddeus if he gets into trouble."
"I don't think Snape would take it too far," Harry said. "But that doesn't mean he wouldn't make us miserable."
"Thaddeus would make us hurt," Miles argued. "He has already. And you haven't gone to a Professor, have you? Because maybe it wouldn't be fixed. Maybe it would get worse. If Snape cursed you and you told, I reckon he would be in trouble. Thaddeus already got away with nearly killing a kid in his second year - they're less likely to give chances to Professors I'd bet, because they're adults."
There was some logic to Miles' words. That was the way of the world of teenagers and adults, after all. Harry wondered at what age you became responsible for your actions so fully.
The common room was deserted - a rare sight. The sound of voices did echo down from the halls and stairwells to the dormitories, but time was of the essence and they paid it no mind. It was unfortunate that Neriani wasn't the only Slytherin to leave their books, bags, and scrolls about the commons. "There's three of us," Harry said. "We'll split up and search."
"And how will we know it's her stuff?"
"What if someone's bag is jinxed against thieves?" Miles interjected.
That... was a good point. Much like the trunk in the fourth years' dormitory had been intended to trap someone with sticky fingers.
We'll just look around stuff," Lucian said. "Try not to touch it unless we know it's this girl's stuff."
Miles mumbled something under his breath but they split up as agreed and began to oh-so-casually inspect the spread belongings. Harry in particular was enraptured by the title peaking out of a blue bag - Blood Cursing and You!, but figured anyone with a book like that in their possession wasn't likely to take well to him looking at it. This was a grand amount of common sense for Harry's standard, no matter how tempting it was.
Harry felt drawn to the most popular seats by the fire, and he now he slinked over with a purpose. Empty of the top students, he glanced over a scroll of parchment on the Draught of Living Death and its development history, and then twitched - like something had buzzed in his ear. A fly, or something.
He felt it again, persistent, and swirled around. Nothing. Now he heard a slight pattern to it - and it wasn't buzzing. It was like steam escaping, and his feet inexplicably drew him to the low embers of the fireplace. He stared down into the coals, wondering if that was what he had heard - sizzling wood - when he heard them.
"Stone and fire, flame and rock, find us warming in the stalk," overlapping with, "In the water, in the grime, lost inside," and small but most numerous renditions of "Mouse! Mouse! Rat flesh and fresh!"
With something like dawning horror, Harry's gaze rose from the embers to the enormous mantle overhead. The writhing stone snakes, at this proximity, he saw had little stone forked tongues too. And they were hissing, like in English except that serpents did not speak English. He wondered if maybe this was a Slytherin house enchantment - it did seem on par, didn't it -
"Harry," Lucian's voice broke through. He started abruptly. "Thought you were going to step into the embers for a minute there... I've found it."
And so Lucian had.
The bag itself was plain, and was identified by it's open flap with the upside-down embroidery of Neriani Shafiq's name in it. There were a few slim scrolls of parchment which they first carefully levitated out - interspersed with glancing around the commons surreptitiously in case of anyone joining them in the quiet. One of the scrolls, of the same parchment as the others and no defining difference, bit Lucian. He hissed and shook his hand.
"I reckon that's it," he said. "Can't open it without a nibble."
Harry tried it, and then also was left nursing his fingertips. "Can't open it at all. But I bet that Thaddeus can - he must want me to bring it to him, and that's the exchange for more information!"
"Why would he send you to get it?" Miles asked, rather intelligently. "Isn't this all a bit complicated? I mean, clearly he knew that the bag was going to be here, why didn't he get it himself?"
Harry shrugged, getting up from their kneeled position on the floor. "Dunno, but I'll ask."
Miles looked worried as ever at that declaration, but he must've had some interest in all this because he didn't bother to argue. The sun was still strong in the sky, and they returned to a warm afternoon on the grounds, scroll in tow. Lucian began bickering with Miles over last year's Quidditch World Cup of Scotland v. Canada as Harry wondered idly over what secrets the upper years held from them. They got the shock of a lifetime seeing Professor Snape perched on a stone carved bench in the sun, leg crossed over the other, and lazily flipping through what looked to be a potions periodical.
"Didn't think he wouldn't melt in the sun," Harry said. "Huh."
"There goes the vampire theory," Lucian sighed.
"I think they can go in the sun," Miles said.
"No," Harry said, continuing on their walk. "My dad says they can only go in the sun for a few minutes before they start to rapidly decompose."
"Cool," Lucian said. They did watch Snape a little bit longer but with no signs of decomposition starting, and no desire to draw the man's attention, they left the courtyard.
"Look it's the groundskeeper," Harry pointed out. And indeed it was, in the distance at the edge of the marshes was a stone-and-wood hut, and outside of it in a large pumpkin patch stood an even larger man.
"What does he do?" Miles wondered. "Tend pumpkins all day?"
Lucian shrugged. "Macnair said that Dumbledore keeps him on to help with the Forest - all sorts of dangerous beasts in there that a, er, larger man can handle better."
"Walden Macnair?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Yeah, he's got a daughter in seventh year, I think. Hufflepuff."
Harry frowned. "I've heard of him - from my dad. He mentioned something about an arrest, ages ago, and... and Macnair killed people." What Harry really meant is that he had read about Walden Macnair in his father's office files of past arrests.
Lucian looked at him very seriously. "It's probably because he was a Death Eater."
"Hey," Miles said. "Don't say that."
"It's true," Lucian argued, meaty hands in his pockets. "Everyone knows he was, at the very least, even if he was clever enough to not get put into Azkaban. I mean, nothing against your Uncle, Miles."
"I barely knew him," Miles looked uncomfortable. "It's just - " His eyes darted at Harry.
Harry rubbed his arm. "I know there's a lot of Death Eaters... ones that didn't make it out of Azkaban time, and those who did. But just because my dad does something or... or your dad does something... doesn't mean anything about us."
"Mhm," said Lucian unconvincingly.
"We've got..." Flint trailed off. "Another scroll for Charms... reckon I'm not doing that... Zoe - "
"No," Zoe Accrington said from down the bench. "He knew last time. You can't just copy me word for word."
"Murton?" He groaned.
"No," Adelaide said primly. "No way, Marcus."
"Pass the jus," Graham asked at large, but only Cassius bothered to slide it his way.
"You're pretty good at Charms," Harry said to Cassius.
"And you're pretty good at Potions," he retorted. Harry blinked in surprise. "What - just because Snape doesn't like you much doesn't make you worse at it. Clearly you're trying to... well."
"It does seem like Snape's not too fond of you, Harry," Lucinda told him, as if he hadn't noticed. "I wonder why that is? He tends to like us more than the Hufflepuffs so far in class, except you."
"Have you met?" Lucian asked. "I mean you said your mum works at an apothecary, and he teaches potions so..."
"No, I haven't... I haven't met him before." Harry got out. "He didn't get on with my parents I think, it's not my fault."
"Well, you're brill at potions," Lucinda told him. "I'm sure he'll get over it."
Sharing a dark look with Miles, Harry was not too sure that Snape was the type of person to 'get over it'. And any chance of that happening was ruined by the next day.
As dinner wrapped, satiating as always, Harry manoeuvred his way through the rushing flow of students to catch up to the fourth year Slytherins - more specifically, Lucinda's brother. Miles lags behind, and Lucian had gone on with the other boys caught up in chat.
"Thaddeus," Harry called out. Indeed he, and three other boys, turned to face him. Nott jerked his head, and the others left him behind - looking at Harry with the faint exasperation of any teenager dealing with annoying kids.
"Hello again," he said pleasantly.
"I've got it," Harry said meaningfully, patting his robe pocket.
A lazy smile crawled across the older boy's face. "Very good." Harry pulled out the scroll and warned him,
"It bites your fingers if you try to open it."
Nott didn't look surprised by this. "I'll just need your blood," he said calmly in the din of the Great Hall emptying.
"What?" Harry said.
"I'll do it right here," he moved closer. "To open it, after all. I would use my own, but the damn thing would disintegrate if I touch it before releasing the enchantment."
"How you do know that - and why do you need my blood?" Harry hissed.
"I know because I taught her this trick," he told him easily. "And I need your blood to undo the enchantment- nothing else."
Harry had gotten a lot of lectures on willingly providing bits of yourself to there magicals - consent gave things more power.
But he was always eleven so, "Okay," he said, and bit his tongue when a sudden cut, no larger than a paper cut, appeared on his wrist.
"Hold the scroll to it," Thaddeus told him impatiently, wand out. Harry did so, suddenly hyper aware that blood magic was happening in the middle of the Hall, with thousands of potential witnesses.
A string of incomprehensible muttering came from the other boy, and then without further warning he snatched the scroll from Harry's hand. Nothing noteworthy happened, but Thaddeus crowed in success. He didn't open it right away and Harry frowned.
"What's it all about?" He asked. Thaddeus smiled, that lazy upturn of his mouth and he turned as if to walk away -
"Hey," Harry went after him. "Hey! I got that for you, didn't I? You said you'd tell me - I'd know more. What's going on? Why couldn't you just get that yourself if you weren't going to tell me anything anyway?" Nott had stopped again and looked at him in consideration. But in the end, his eyes flickered to the Head Table, which was now also emptying, and says nothing more. Harry stood there in the moving crowd, being elbowed, for a moment longer in frustration as Miles slunk back over to him.
"It's like you like having your knees reversed," he told Harry.
"And the price for that should be some answers," he said firmly. "I did spy on him - first by accident - but the second time... sure, fair. I was in the wrong and I got caught. But we were even, and now he's gone and asked for my help. He needed me, for some reason. My blood, too. And I'll find out what it's all about," he told Miles. "I will."
This disappointment was not the final problem of the night. September ended with a bang - namely, it ended with Viola Richmond.
"Come on, Reagan," the Gryffindor was saying to Mulciber in the stairwell as they walked up. "Aren't you even a littleupset - oh." Viola spotted them. "Speak of the Lethifold and it shall appear."
"Richmond," Harry greeted, which sounded more like 'go for a swim'. The girl seemed to be collecting most of the first year Slytherins around her, for whatever nefarious purpose. Lucian was looking quite grim next to Colin Cresswell as part of this posse. "What do you want?"
She scowled and flipped her hair. "You know, I know your classmates better than you do. I mean, you and your brother... your tutoring was so very private, wasn't it? You didn't see much of anyone, like we did."
"Whatever, Richmond," he made to walk past.
"It's a shame they let you in here, still, and we've all got to put up with it. They should've kept you locked away," she said. "Let me guess - Order of the Phoenix members and their kids only?"
"You don't know anything about me or my life," he snapped at her.
"I know that you're a bunch of muggle-lovers, and you've got no place at Hogwarts! You people lock up the good people and get to walk around doing whatever you like and none of you - " She whirled on her old tutor group friends, all the people Harry had been getting to know the last month "None of you say anything? You act like it's no big deal. His dad arrests us, his mum isn't even one of us - and his brother is a killer - "
"He was a baby," Harry argued. "You know what? I bet that the Dark Lord just went and blew himself up - by accident - and how is any of it my fault! I think your parents probably went to Azkaban just to get away from you! "
She screamed and dove her hand into her pocket for her wand in a flurry of movement, but Harry was faster. His wand was in her face before she could cast anything. "Don't," he warned and she snarled.
"Shut up," she hissed. "You- you - you son of a Squib - and the rest of you for fucking letting him... letting him be..." She lost her words, her face turning red. Harry looked at his year mates, and with unease found a sea of slightly frowning faces. They looked unsure, and Harry felt a twinge in his chest.
"It's not my fault what my family is - I haven't done a thing wrong and you can't even prove my brother did anything - it's just a nice, fancy story for stupid reporters that makes even stupider books for kids. And if that's what people want to think, fine, but it's stupid. He's just a normal brother, and you're just a normal twat," he said. "My dad does his job - and my mum is a WITCH," He shouted. Leave me alone and stop talking about me, you're obsessed!"
Even Miles has made some space between them, and no one was adding anything. No one was agreeing, necessarily, with Viola, but no one was helping Harry either. He'd thought they were all getting on well, but maybe he had different expectations of friendship than his dorm mates. He looked to Lucian, his first friend, but the boy didn't move to help him this time. Harry wondered why he had pushed the girl in the boat in the first place then - he can't remember the exact conversation now -
In his distraction, Viola attacked. "Rictumsempra," she cast, and Harry bent over unnaturally fast at his middle, swallowing snorts and laughs. Though the charm hadn't worn off, his anger wouldn't let him wait. Harry made things go boom - it gathered in his arms and like a tremendous wave, Viola was blasted upwards and backwards into the air - landing further up the staircase after giving everyone a good show of her underthings. Left behind was nothing more than a chipped stair. It seemed that Hogwarts was more boom-protected than Potter Cottage.
Being children, seeing underthings was incredibly funny, so naturally despite all the tension from that earlier exchange, everyone began to laugh as she slowly sat up, rubbing her head and her skirt still blown up around her middle. Though looked quite dazed, she got the gist of it fast and yanked her skirt down.
Everyone was pretty sure she would flee in embarrassment - hot tears were (likely unwillingly) sliding down her red face. But she didn't. She marched back down the stairs to a panting Harry, and absolutely decked him in the face.
With her fist.
And it hurt. Girls can fight, he though incredulously. His dad had completely lied.
Harry reeled and pushed her away from him as she looked as though she would do it again. Her tears began to turn to sobs as she stumbled back and finally, finally fled up to wherever Gryffindor Tower was.
That night in the dorm was an awkward one. Not even Colin started any troubles - which considering how annoying he was, must've took enormous efforts. Harry couldn't take it very long. Standing in the washroom and getting ready for bed with everyone brought it all to a head.
"Do you think I'm some sort of..." Harry paused, a few of the boys stopped what they were doing and eyed him. "Do you think I don't belong here?"
It's Flint, boy of few words, who surprisingly speaks up. "You're not your family," he shrugged. "But family does matter."
"Blood matters," Montague said snidely from the counter. "But that's not all, of course," he amended when Cassius shoved him. "Look, do you care about our parents and what they've done?"
Harry didn't know who's parents had done what, but he did know how to answer. "No, course not."
"There," Graham said tiredly. "Then it's all set."
"What do you think?" Colin asked curiously. "Harry - what do you think about dark magic?"
"Shut up, Colin," Higgs said warningly. "Shut it."
"I..." Harry hesitated. "I don't know, I mean. I don't know any, dark magic."
"Obviously - but do you think using dark magic is evil? Or do you think that tradition is? Because your family - " Colin went on. Higgs pushed him and Colin shut up and shoved him back. As they began to tussle, Harry shifted awkwardly in front of everyone.
"I mean. I don't, er, it's not a problem," he said weakly. He didn't know what to say. He'd never talked about... any of this. He felt out of depth in a way his classes didn't challenge him.
"Can we just go to bed?" Graham said irritably.
"My mum gets potions from your mum," Flint told him when they were turning the lights, real quiet, some time later. "I know she's not a muggle or a squib or... she's a witch."
"Yeah," Harry said. "Er, thanks, yeah."
He nodded, like he had said something very magnanimous.
Despite talking it out, it doesn't feel like the problem had been fixed. More like it was like a leak, taped up, but the pressure was still there. Waiting, pushing, and inevitably going to break free. Harry's lack of argument for or against anything seemed to stay the flow, but one day that may not be enough. And for the first time, Harry saw that maybe the stray words about him, about politics, about his father, about his brother... about his mother... maybe they mattered. In a way much more immediate than he'd considered. Viola hated him, there was no doubt. But it seemed she wasn't the only one who cared about that stuff, and it was quite likely Bole wasn't the only one who liked him but... it seemed even his first Hogwarts friend was hesitant to step up beside him. As if it tainted him, somehow. And Harry hated how he couldn't blame Lucian, and how he wasn't sure that if he was in Lucian's place he would step up beside him like that.
The next day, it was finally time for Harry to face the music of assault. The fifth year boys' Prefect, Marius Malfoy, came to fetch him, bright and early on that Sunday morning after; it was officially the first of October, and far chillier than the fair weather before.
"Mister Harry Potter," he said. "Professor Snape wishes to speak to you about an altercation that occurred after dinner last night. Some allegations have been made." It was telling how none of the other boys made fun of him for this - last night had dredged up some awkward feelings in the dorm.
Harry dressed hastily, and combed his hair, all while Marius stood at the doorway picking his fingernails. When Harry sidled up to him, the boy left without a word, gesturing for Harry to follow.
"Am I in a lot of trouble?" Harry asked at length.
"I don't really think I'm your judge," he said politely. "Only the messenger."
The walk felt really long, and Malfoy was clearly keeping pace for Harry's shorter legs.
"You should be more careful in your choice of association," he said conversationally, out of nowhere as they made another right turn in the dungeon corridors. "I can't imagine your parents would be too happy with your exploits. Stealing is frowned upon at Hogwarts."
Harry looked at him, wide-eyed. "What?"
"Stealing," Malfoy repeated calmly. "And then snooping isn't always a crime, I suppose, but that too is a skill that brings more trouble than good. Wouldn't you say?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, unnerved.
They made it the rest of the way in silence, and when they came to a stop at Professor Snape's office, Malfoy didn't knock right away. He turned to Harry fully, so much taller than he was, and looked down.
"Well done, either way," Malfoy told him as they stood in front of the door, a small smile dancing around his mouth. "Much appreciated." Harry's mood perked up a bit.
"Wait - " He said quickly. "So, you're in on it, too or - "
"Ah ah, Harry," he said. "Secrets are meant not to be spoken. You should have learned this- "
The door swung open so quickly, it was like there had never been a door at all. Snape stood right there, and Harry couldn't help his flinch at the revealed proximity. Malfoy didn't budge, but inclined his head respectfully. "Professor," he said evenly.
"Mr. Malfoy," he greeted, eyes narrow. "You are dismissed."
With another incline of his shiny blond head, Marius pivoted on his heel and left him abandoned to their fate.
Snape stepped aside. "Anytime today," he gestured him in impatiently.
Once Harry had taken a seat and Snape had rounded the back of his desk, the inquisition began. The harsh cut of Snape's narrow face looked like it could've been carved from stone in the low light, and Harry hoped dearly what Miles said about Snape having to be careful about getting fired or something was true. Because even though he was an adult, and adults have more consequences, right now Snape looked like the sort of man who got away with stuff.
"I find myself surprised," he said evenly. "Mr. Potter, that you have managed to control yourself for... an entire month." His mouth twisted. "Formidable."
"Sir," Harry began.
"And then I hear a story from a young girl, about an incident involving another young girl, a Gryffindor one? Too prideful to ask for help, perhaps, after you launched a public humiliation, was it? Though she was unclear on the specificities, she was very clear that it was you."
"Professor, I didn't - "
"In front of many witnesses I can yet ask," he continued blithely on like Harry had never spoken. "But out of some lingering generosity for," his eyes sought upward, "a member of Slytherin house, I decided to ask you what has happened." He peered down his nose. "Interrupt me one more time, Mr. Potter and I will personally see to it that you are scrubbing toad guts for the next week."
"Yes, sir," Harry said. Silence crept over them slowly, and Harry began to realise that now he was allowed to speak. "There was - an incident, sir. The girl, she, er, she started saying things in the - to my year mates - just lies and - "
" Ah, so some innocent girl had offended your delicate sensibilities - "
"Innocent," Harry cried. "Professor - "
"Shut your mouth," Snape snarled, like a beast of some kind. It transformed his face - the rage - into something truly terrifying. He snapped his neck toward Harry, say from his casual perusal of his ingredients wall, and it took him all he had not to jump back in his seat. "Detention, beginning tomorrow at 8 o'clock with me. Potter," he went on, punctuating each word with malice. "What did you do?"
The accusation in his tone was so solid Harry couldn't think of a defence - he heard already, something in Snape's voice, that he already knew him to be guilty. It wouldn't have mattered if Harry was innocent. Snape was certain. He'd made up his mind, hadn't he?
Harry slumped. It was clear also that Snape was allowed to interrupt him, if he so pleased.
"I didn't throw any hexes or curses or spells or do anything, sir, I swear that - she just, fell back," he said lamely. "Sometimes, sometimes my magic does that. I didn't mean for anyone to even laugh at her, even if she was saying horrid things about me and my... I didn't do anything, not on purpose and... I've been trying to stop making things... breaking..." He trails off. "Sometimes my magic does that," he repeated. "And she hexed me, and punched me, and I didn't do anything at all. That stuff just happens sometimes. It always has."
Snape was frowning when he looked up, and he moved to seat himself behind the desk instead of standing at one side.
Harry could scarcely believe it - did Snape believe him ?
"Very well," he said shortly, as if he was displeased by Harry's truthfulness. All in all, Harry was surprised he wasn't being strung up by his thumbs like that caretaker was always muttering about to himself.
Then, of course, Snape did have to torture him somehow, by pulling out a fresh parchment and writing tools.
Snape flourished his quill like a weapon - and in his hands it likely could be - and they began to recite some of the worst words Harry had ever heard.
"To whom it may concern," he began. "Your son - Harry Potter - has been thoroughly warned on this occasion to keep his violent tendencies in check. He, along with friends, has been caught in an act of magical aggression towards another student - " Snape paused here and looked up at Harry with consideration, who by now was appearing quite ill, having realised what his Head of House was doing. He smiled, a nasty curl of his lips, black eyes glittering. With a wave he corrected himself. "Aggression towards a female student," he emphasised. "We believed it pertinent to contact his parents at such a time, as it is of great concern to Hogwarts School when students come to start their education with such... tendencies in their magic. Your correspondence is expected promptly, regardless of what punishment has been meted out. When you do, further information can be discussed on both ends." With another fast scratching, which Harry assumed to be him signing off, Snape snapped his fingers and the scroll rolled up and vanished into thin air.
The silence was heavy with the harsh reality: Snape had just told him off to his parents.
It was broken most curiously by, "You need to learn discipline." Snape told him, expression still unfathomable. "Self-control. Although you say you didn't 'do' anything, you did. It happened. You wanted it to, at the least you wanted something to happen - I imagine for her to go away - and your magic attempted to fulfil that desire."
"Yes, sir," Harry said carefully.
"And when one is on thin ice - like yourself right now - it is good to stay out of trouble, wouldn't you agree? Learn to not let your emotions rule your magic. If such an occurrence reoccurs, I will not hesitate to employ heavy punishment" He asked. It sounded so calm. Harry couldn't say anything except,
"Yes, sir." He didn't doubt the man.
"So, perhaps you'd like to share what illicit activities you have yourself 'in on' and, if I may be so bold, in over your head on, Potter," Snape said, in that same eerie calmness. Harry frowned in confusion before he realised what he was referencing.
"What - you were listening at the door!" Harry accused, with a tad too much outrage. He'd halfway stood in his seat, before slinking back down with a pointed look from the Professor. "I - sorry."
"Perhaps you were being exceptionally loud," Snape said smoothly. He didn't deny listening in.
"It's nothing, sir," he said stoutly.
"It cannot be nothing," the Professor drummed his fingers once, in quick succession. "What on earth would drive you and Mr. Malfoy, of all people, to discuss... nothing?"
"I don't know him, sir," Harry said, heart beating but his head feeling clear than ever. "He's a prefect, and he'd just walked me down to you. We only talked about... Quidditch."
"Quidditch?" He repeated, faintly. "Really?"
"There's a betting pool," Harry blurted out, as if he was confessing something. "I know it's not, erm, probably allowed..." He looked down at his laced brogues and tried to look very contrite over his lie. Though he did think it was a good one for last minute thinking.
The silence was, again, loud.
"Gambling is not forbidden at Hogwarts," he said finally. Harry glanced up, unsure. "Mr. Potter, is there anything you would wish to tell me?" He didn't believe it.
"Nothing, sir," He said. He couldn't choose a different lie now. It was far too late.
"Lying is no aid to you," Snape hissed. "Be truthful."
"I don't know what - I just can't tell you," Harry said. And this, was the truth. He could, actually, tell Snape enough to set him on the trail of who it was if not what was said. But he didn't, and that was that. "I don't have anything to tell you, sir."
"Dismissed, Potter," Snape said curtly, by all appearance quite over him. "On your head, be it."
