Mo Chridhe

Chapter 14

Ronald Weasley had been in a foul mood with everyone since his conversation with Neville and Harry. He was in deep denial over the prospect of his family having any slimy Slytherin's in it. His mum had told him that his family had nothing but Gryffindors in it since as long as there had been Weasley's. It was a long-standing tradition! And she would know more than Longbottom! Part of him feared that they were right, it's why he doggedly hid from his brothers. The mere thought of Longbottom's words being true was enough to unravel Ron nearly entirely.

It was actually that bad that Ronald had actually been too subdued to eat much. Everyone at the Gryffindor table were getting a reprieve from his boorish eating habits. He ate with a full mouth, spoke and spat food all over the place. He also used his hands to eat, which was just not to be borne for most purebloods and half-blood's.

"Are you feeling alright, Ron?" the sound of the Irish accent giving away the one asking the question. Seamus Finnegan had elected to attend Hogwarts instead of attending the Irish School of Magic. Watching the boy with a look of concern, it wasn't like him not to eat. He was always on the scrounge for food. Even after eating his dinner, it got to the point where they were having to ask the older students to keep their supply of chocolates in their chests. Otherwise, Ron would just open their trunks and take what he liked. They'd seen him doing it to Harry, and Harry hadn't been much impressed. His own supply had disappeared too, and the entire dorm had heard all about it.

"I'm fine," the redheaded boy glumly replied, shoveling custard around in his bowl, not in the mood to eat at all. He felt as if he was on the precipice of change, he just knew in his gut that everything he knew was wrong. His stomach was gurgling like he'd never experienced before, but the thought of eating sickened him.

Why hadn't his parents replied yet?

Neville and the other first year Gryffindors glanced at each other warily and remained silent. Normally Ron was the most vocal of them all, never afraid to say what came into his thick head. Sure, they hadn't known him wrong, and wondered what was getting to him.

Neville didn't even think to consider that Ron was still furious over an offhanded comment he'd made about Ron's grandparents. Who incidentally had gone to school with his gran, she was a Ravenclaw, and had been very good friends with them, even attended their funerals if Neville recalled correctly.

Ron's attention was caught by the sight of Harry leaving the Great Hall. Regret panged within his heart, maybe he shouldn't have gotten so mad at him. Then the reason he was mad was remembered, and he scowled. He wasn't going to be friends with a dirty Slytherin sympathizer. All of them would grow up to be Death Eaters, its all Slytherins were good for. It didn't matter that he was famous, that he had more money than most people, he would not be friends with him.

Merlin, he'd had so many dreams of what it would be like to be Harry Potter's best friend. Of all the adventures they'd get up to, and mischief they'd get into. Not just best friends either, as close to brothers as they could get, and maybe if he was good enough, Harry might even give them some of his money. Harry had given him a lot of his sweets on the train! He'd be able to buy all the sweets he wanted, and he wouldn't need to ask the others! It would be awesome! Or would have been.

Angrily shoving the bowl into the middle of the table, he clambered over the bench and grabbed his bag. Which had been fixed, he was still convinced his brothers had done it. It was hanging by a thread really; it had been Percy's before being his. Luckily his brother actually took care of his things, so it did the trick.

Twenty minutes later with a rumbling stomach he stomped into the dorm. Then all his anger bled out of him, as excitement thrummed through him.

At the mere sight of Errol, the bedraggled owl sitting at the window. Ron rushed over, dropping his bag, and claiming the letter without a single word to the owl. He didn't even give the poor elderly owl a drink, just left the dorm and clambered down the stairs, the dorms were too dark to read the letter, so he made for the fireplace.

The common room was deserted, everyone was still enjoying dinner in the Great Hall.

Ron rushed over, kneeling beside the fireplace as if the room itself wasn't illuminated. Now he'd show Longbottom just how wrong he was, he thought, ripping the wax seal off the parchment and unfolding the letter eager to read the contents within.

Ronald,

To say I am deeply and profoundly concerned about your letter would be putting it lightly. All your brothers, which should include yourself, know about our family tree. It breaks my heart that you didn't get a chance to know your grandparents, I'm not sure Percy can remember them properly. Their loss is felt most keenly, especially at this time of year. Yesterday was the anniversary of their passing.

Yes, Cedrella and Septimus Weasley, your grandparents, my parents were indeed in Slytherin. It's nothing to be ashamed of son, house pride won't mean much once you've left Hogwarts. Get to know people by their nature, not house. One of the bravest men I know came from Slytherin, the world is not black and white.

The ghastly war has had a profound affect in causing rifts that should not exist. People would like you to believe that it was only Slytherins that joined You-Know-Who's ranks, but it just isn't true. There were Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and yes, even Gryffindors joining You-Know-Who's ranks.

When you return home for Yule, I shall endeavor to tell you more about your grandparents and our family tree. I am sorry we've failed to educate you about this before.

We miss you; Ginny is feeling a little lonely, write to her.

Write soon,

Dad

P.S – enclosed one of the few pictures of you with them, they were so proud of you.

Ron was blinking rapidly, his hand squeezing the letter – and the photograph – into a crumpled heap. His father liked to use a lot of words; some he didn't even understand what they meant. It was a nice change, or it would have been if not for the contents of the letter. His mum liked to baby him and it was beyond embarrassing now.

Fuming mad he flung the letter and photo into the fireplace; he couldn't believe it. His hum had lied to him. Ron gazed into the fire, so torn and confused, if his mum had lied about something like that…what else had she lied to him about? His fists clenched as he gritted his teeth, only ceasing once the pain penetrated his mind.

Tears rolled down his face, as the picture began to turn to ash. He got to see their faces before it was gone for good. A redheaded wizard that looked so much like his father and a little like his eldest brother and a black-haired witch, with grey eyes he'd noticed. They'd been looking at him like he hung the stars and the moon.

It made him cry even more; he'd seen pictures of him when he was just born. He could see the disappointment in his mothers' face that he wasn't a girl. The beaming smiles he saw in the newborn pictures of Ginny hurt more than he'd ever be able to express. He hated crying, he'd rather be angry, anger was so much easier to deal with.

Getting his mum angry or annoyed with him was the only way he got any attention.

Something he had in common with the twins.

Jerking his head up, blanching when he heard voices and the thumping of feet making its way towards Gryffindor common room. Swallowing thickly, brushing his hand against his face, removing the tears as he lurched up onto his feet and with a burst of speed made his way upstairs, panting outrageously, he yanked his curtains closed, burrowing into the bed.

The tears continued, the lump grew in his throat, all he knew torn asunder by one little comment Neville made. If it had been anyone else, they wouldn't have known. There weren't many of that generation left alive to reveal that information.

He wasn't sure he could ever leave this bed and face everyone ever again.

Why hadn't anyone told him?

Why had his mum lied to him?

Neville, Harry, Seamus and Dean naturally noticed Ron's curtains were still drawn. They'd stopped trying to wake them, for only one reason, it made them late trying to get him up. He slept like the dead, so none of the dorm mates attempted to wake him. That and he had a temper on him that none of the eleven-year-olds knew how to deal with. Ron was quite volatile, only Harry had any experience dealing with that, and the longer he was here and seeing what Ron was like the more he realized he'd made a big mistake in becoming friends with him. However, he did want to keep trying, Ron was the first person who had ever spoken to him like he wasn't something he'd trod in.

"Have you remembered your books, Neville?" Harry asked, when the gentle boy made a move to leave the dorm. He had forgotten them yesterday, Harry didn't mind sharing, not at all, but well, some of the professors did tend to get impatient and angry when it happened. Mostly because of how close they were to one another and could be gossiping instead of working. "We have potions today, remember." And boy, Neville was a nervous wreck in that class, even with his 'help' to make him less nervous.

Neville blanched before smacking his hand on his forehead, "I knew I had forgotten something!" rushing back to his bed, he opened his trunk, and rummaged carefully through it, until he found his Potions book. Holding it aloft with an exclamation of jubilation. "Got it!" shoving it into his bag, he corrected his trunk. A lifetime of keeping tidy wasn't forgotten in a few weeks at Hogwarts.

"Thanks, Harry," Neville murmured, leaning against the boy as they both wandered out the dorm together. Seamus and Dean were already long gone, the two were coming good friends, just like he and Neville. Maybe Ron would be too but he got so jealous whenever Harry paid attention to anyone else and it was rather annoying. "Too bad grans Remembrall doesn't help me remember what I've forgotten."

Harry laughed quietly, "It is quiet a silly invention, isn't it?" but he was still in awe over all things magic, it was a little bit helpful but inevitably useless.

Neville made a face before nodding in agreement.

"Oh, are you going to the library tonight?" Neville asked, his tone a little hesitant, he didn't want to put Harry off being his friend by asking him too much. He'd never really had a friend before, he didn't know much, but he knew Harry got annoyed by the constant stares and questions he got asked. Honestly, asking a boy that was attacked when he was a baby questions about that night, Neville was disgusted. He was ever so pleased that what happened to his own parents weren't quite so publicized.

"No, not tonight," Harry shook his head, Marcus had to get his homework done, do his rounds and was doing tutoring for extra money. The feelings he'd gotten from Marcus when he thought of his grandfather, the Lord Flint, made Harry want to cause him unimaginable pain, and nobody knew pain life an empath. If he ever met him, Harry was determined to make him regret hurting his Marcus!

"Oh, then would you like to go to the Gobstone club?" Neville asked, perking up at the thought of actually spending time with Harry out of class. Most of the time he was off to the library, but it wasn't as if he didn't have anything to do, he spent a lot of time with Susan and Hannah, they all loved herbology and spent an inordinate amount of time in the green house. Professor Sprout relished in the help, she had to keep eight green houses in tip top shape, that wasn't including the vegetable gardens and orchards as well as the animals. Hogwarts was self-sustaining, they had all the animals, vegetables and such they'd need to feed roughly five hundred students each year. They also grew potion ingredients too, its how they could afford to offer the scholarships they offered to students wishing to attend Hogwarts.

"Do you actually play?" Harry asked in interest, as they pushed the portrait outwardly, and left Gryffindor common room.

"As a hobby I've played a few games," Neville commented, as they stepped onto the moving staircases, "My uncle Algie likes attending the tournaments, I learned all about it young." A look of utter boredom appearing on his face as he thought of all the tournaments he'd been forced to attend when his gran couldn't look after him.

"Tournaments?" Harry queried, "You mean it's a big sport?"

"Not as big as the Dueling or Quidditch tournament following but yes, chess too, my gran says it's a shame that people were no longer interested in Gobstone, it was very popular when she was young." Neville explained, as they moved through corridors, "I'll show you there are lots of pictures…there's even a champion and captain of the Gobstones from Hogwarts actually she's fourth ranking worldwide." Enthused at regaling information that Harry didn't know.

"Is that good?" Harry asked he didn't know much about any magical sports.

"Forth worldwide? Yes, it is, especially since she's been there since nearly forty years and nobody has managed to beat her score." Neville explained, "What was her name? It's right on the tip of my tongue! Uncle Algie always said he would have married her if he was twenty-years younger!"

Harry would have asked just how old his uncle was if he didn't know the wizard was in fact, Neville's great-uncle Algie. A wizard that Neville was deathly afraid of, he knew every time Neville even thought of him. It was a unique tang of terror that Harry felt with only Neville. Everyone had things they were afraid of, but this fear was bone deep, in a room full of people feeling afraid, Harry would be able to point out the wizard without a struggle.

"Think about something else and it will come to you," Harry advised.

Neville glanced at Harry in question.

Harry shrugged, "It's what I heard people saying when they're talking to someone who's forgotten something." Just parroting what he'd heard other people saying.

Muggles were weird, Neville couldn't help but think. Did they honestly offer up advice like that? Think about something else and it will come to you? It sounded utterly ludicrous really, and Eileen! Eileen Prince! That's the name, honestly it shouldn't have taken so long to come to him, his uncle Algie constantly spoke about her with reverence. The Gobstone playing and watching, he was obsessed with the game.

"Her name is Eileen Prince! The others are from European countries, except Dimitry Romanov, he's number one, he's also the top for chess too." Neville proclaimed, beaming with delight at the fact he'd remembered.

Harry blinked, opening his mouth before closing it again.

"What is it?" Neville asked, the smell of breakfast began to waft towards them, they were getting closer to the Great Hall.

"Well, it's just that the majority of Russia is in Europe, it's also in Asia too, although that region of the country is sparsely populated." Harry explained, cautious about correcting him, not sure how he'd react.

"Oh, well, yes, of course," Neville nodded, feeling rather foolish, he'd entirely forgotten than. "I remember, my tutor spent a lot of time on regions, I shouldn't have forgotten." Then again, he forgot a lot, uncle Algie did say he was stupid and oftentimes Neville believed him. Then his tutors proclaimed how smart he was, and for a brief moment Neville was able to forget his troubles.

Harry's hand reached over for Nevilles arm, "Are you okay?" his voice softening to an almost croon. He knew Neville wasn't of course, but had no intentions of telling anyone else about his abilities.

"I'm okay," Neville said, straightening up, smiling, grateful to have a friend. There was nothing better than having a friend. He hadn't expected to make one, especially not Harry Potter. He'd come to realize though, that his friend did not like the fame that came with him. "I promise." He added, seeing Harry still staring at him in silent question. He wondered if his gran would let Harry visit during the summer? The thought of going all summer holidays without his friend was daunting to say the least. This coming from someone who had only just made friends spoke volumes.

Harry gave Neville a sunny smile, nodding his head. He could sense that whatever had plagued Neville moments ago was receding, and he was in better spirits for the moment.

Everyone's emotions were in constant flux, there was never just one emotion, people went though dozens, each and every waken moment. Contentment, anger, bitterness and happiness lasted the longest out of all singular emotions. Believe it or not meditation apparently helped, according to the books he'd been given by a fellow Empath.

He loved the books; it was like having a friend that understood him completely. Because, yes, yes, yes it hurt, yes it was tiring, yes, he just wanted to be away from all of society and just be for a while. Yes, a grounder was the most important person in their lives.

When Harry came out of his thoughts, they were in the great hall. Neville guided him into their spot. Then he proceeded to put food on Harry's plate, more than the boy usually ate, but not too much. "You need to eat." Honestly some days Harry didn't eat anywhere near enough to possibly fill him up. The only reason he didn't worry too much was the fact Harry put food into his bag for during the day.

"Thanks, Nev," Harry murmured, already shoving forkfuls of scrambled egg into his mouth. Not so surprisingly, the Dursley's preferred their eggs fried not scrambled, and he loved it. It's just too bad he couldn't eat a whole lot of it. His stomach got so uncomfortably full after a small plate full.

"You're welcome," Neville replied, already filling out his own plate. Only to groan, and cover his plate as the owls swooped down delivering mail and newspapers. "They really should have the owls come before or after our breakfast, this is very unsanitary."

Many of the pureblood first years wholeheartedly agreed with Neville's proclamation. It was disgusting, especially if you were anywhere near the Weasley's their owl flew into bowls of food which was then rendered useless. Honestly, they were so lucky that the owls hadn't defecated while bringing their mail. While owls can be trained, you couldn't exactly train that out of them.

"It is a little gross," Harry confessed, as he put his plate under the bench to prevent anyone or anything ending up in his food. He couldn't tolerate any waste, especially if he was hungry.

Harry had only just replaced his food after removing the newspaper from the owl's foot. When the buzzing of background chatter turned up five notches, sounding more than angry bees than drones right now. The shock, confusion, rage and incredulity slammed into him like a freight train.

Harry's breathing hitched, slamming his eyes closed, he tried to focus. However, with hundreds of people's emotions slamming into him like a tidal wave…it was impossible to navigate.

He was drowning in the sea of people's emotions.

It left him nigh on paralyzed.

"I wonder what's going on?" a bewildered Neville commented, before opening his copy of the paper.

He was so focused on finding out what was going on that he didn't notice his best friend being swept from the bench.

Lucky for all concerned, it was Marcus whom collected Harry. Holding him firmly against his chest, as he led them out of the great hall. Within a few moments, Harry began to relax against the older wizard.

"You alright?" Marcus asked Harry, already half way down to the dungeons. Harry was scarily easy to lift and carry, too easily. He'd carried other first year students that were twice as heavy. Bloody kid was too thin, even with the potions he was on to help him gain that much needed weight.

"J-just a s-second," Harry all but stuttered, curling into Marcus, as if he could muffle the entire world. He could no longer feel them, but that didn't mean Harry was automatically feeling better.

"Take your time," Marcus stated firmly, "There's some time before your classes begins and if need be, Professor Snape will ensure you're excused." Glancing behind him, he continued to move as quickly as he could. Harry might not weigh much but even he would begin tiring eventually.

Harry remained silent after that, his legs swinging a little as he was carried. Marcus was literally carrying him like a sack of potatoes. Back pressed against the firm chest of the wizard who worked hard for his physique and all those quidditch practices not to mention the real deal. His arms wrapped firmly around Harry's middle. It certainly didn't look comfortable, but Harry was otherwise distracted.

His face was buried in Marcus' neck, eyes still closed, randomly shuddering.

Marcus grunted out the password to Severus' quarters and tried to put the kid down, only to have Harry cling to him. Frowning in worry, he sat down, leaving the kid to do as he pleased. He knew as Harry's grounder he'd be able to help, but he wasn't sure how much help he was actually giving.

Marcus was also beginning to realize it might not be possible to keep this hidden. He had no clue if Dumbledore had seen him taking Harry out of the great hall or not. Not that there were rules against it, but just because it was a Slytherin it would be going over with a fine-toothed comb.

Marcus remained seated, rubbing Harry's back, trying to help, as ineffectually as if felt. To do nothing would feel a lot worse.

Severus joined them no more than five minutes later, a frown marring his harsh features.

"How is he?" he asked, pacing back and forth, keeping an eye on the time.

Marcus shook his head, a scowl on his features showing his uneven teeth.

Severus crouched down beside Harry, grasping a hold of his chin and turned the boys face towards him, "Harry can you hear me?"

Green eyes blinked hazily before nodding, even if somewhat sluggish, as if he was having to work through tar to make the reaction.

"How are you feeling?" his tone firm but loud.

Inhaling sharply, "Tired," that had been the most experience he'd ever had to date, even more so than the day they'd been sent to the hall and was told about a primary four student, who had died unexpectedly. She'd been very bright and had quite a few friends, and it had affected everyone a lot, and thus him. He'd shut down for the entirety of the day.

"Tired in what way?" Marcus enquired.

"Feeling everything everyone in the great hall was feeling is draining, it's like coming down with wizarding flu. Bones feeling hollowed out and extreme exhausting to the point of needing to sleep for long periods of time." Severus explained.

Harry's head jerked up, gaping at Severus, nodding his head, yes, exactly that.

"Do you think you'll be able to attend your classes or shall I send you to Poppy?" Severus asked Harry, there were naturally different levels of exhaustion, but he'd gone with the one Harry may likely be suffering from. Harry had the help of a grounder, it should help, but he wasn't sure how much help Marcus had been. He couldn't wait to converse with the empath, he had so many questions that he felt sure would help Harry in the long run.

Harry's teeth clacked together, "Do you, um, do you have some of that potion…calming draught?" recalling what it was called after a few moments of thought.

"You may," Severus agreed, only because he hadn't had any yet, otherwise, Severus wouldn't have been able to give him any right now. He'd had nearly every single potion he needed.

"He didn't drink anything," Marcus informed Severus, as if he knew what the professor was thinking.

Severus paused, glancing behind him, "Is Marcus correct, Harry?" moving towards the vials he kept in the living room in their large vials, pouring out what was required daily as needed.

"It's true," Harry replied, he'd only managed his scrambled egg.

"Are you hungry?" Severus asked, between the gentle clinking of the vials, as he prepared Harry his new potions in some juice.

"Starving," Harry confessed, "What happened in there?" referring to the great hall of course.

"The newspapers just delivered rather devastating news to the general population." Severus explained, "Somehow, it's gotten out that Sirius Black wasn't given a trial. How Rita Skeeter got that information…I'd like to know."

"He's the heir of a very wealthy, noble and ancient family, they can trace their family lines back centuries. Not only that but he's the only heir to the Black family now, the fact the Ministry did not give him a trial…the public outcry will be immense whether he's guilty or not. It's the fact they could let it happen that will bother them most. Only because of the fear that it could have happened to them or might do in the future." Marcus informed Harry, explaining in a way that Harry might understand. He was beginning to figure all this out now, getting easier with time.

"No…there was something else, rage, and a lot of it, sort of how you'd feel if something you wanted didn't work out? Like you weren't ready for it?" Harry struggled to explain what he felt, emotions were easy, words not so much.

Severus silently handed Harry the potions, pressing his hand up with his own fingers, a silent gesture to drink up. He had a good idea on whom the rage belonged, but he would not put words or thoughts in Harry's mind. Dumbledore was the chief warlock, and if he even tried to pretend Dumbledore would forget Black it wouldn't work. There would only be one reason the wizard was still in there…and it was because Dumbledore wanted him there.

"This one is the calming draught," Severus handed him the last one, before banishing all the used vials to the sink to be cleaned.

"Did Dumbledore notice…?" Marcus asked, not worried for himself, but Harry. There was no way he'd be able to endure Dumbledore's manipulations without some effect. He wouldn't be easily led around by his nose, due to his abilities, but that wasn't to say he wouldn't ensnare him in other ways. It was best that Dumbledore think his manipulations were working. He didn't dare think on what Dumbledore would try if he thought his way wasn't working.

"He did not." Severus replied succinctly. "Now are you up to attending your classes today?" hating that he was rushing Harry, however, he had to get to class. He had never been late in over a decade, he refused to begin now. Plus, if he was late, it snowballed and made it so they went overtime if they were actually brewing a potion.

"I'll go," Harry said, sounding just as sleepy as before, the calming draught at work.

Severus glanced at Marcus who nodded, "I'll make sure he gets there." He promised the wizard, "Come on, let's get to class." Luckily, he didn't have class first period, it was a self-study spot, which gave him plenty of time to ensure Harry got to class.

Severus watched them both leave, grimly, he had a bad feeling about all this.

Just how did Skeeter get this information? A pathetic, silly social columnist turned reporter.

A/N – hey guys! You know this story is turning out to be rather unpredictable, I never actually wanted Sirius to be in this so soon…yet here we are and he's been mentioned a few times. So, will Sirius be like he is in the contract and with Harry to the very end (regardless of his side) or will he be unable to set aside his prejudices and do the right thing by his godson? Still not sure what I'm wanting to do with Voldemort though 😉 I've got one where he joins him, goes neutral, hmm I wonder what other direction I could possibly take it in 😊 R&R please!