Harry
"Mister Potter, I asked you a question," Professor Umbridge's voice rang through the classroom. Harry Potter, who up until a moment earlier was one-hundred percent reading the remedial textbook on his desk in front of him and not the incredibly long roll of parchment Neville had slipped him that morning, did his best to not look startled.
He legitimately hadn't heard her. But that seemed silly given that there was absolutely no noise, aside from the occasional annoyed sigh or turning of a page, in her classroom. He frowned to himself as he debated the best way to get out of the situation.
Harry peered down toward his hand. It still itched where she'd made him carve 'I must not tell lies' into his hand during their first detention together. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to repeat that experience.
Although it annoyed him to think she'd cowed him into submission with one mere detention. Oh no, his hand itched, whatever would he do! But McGonagall had strongly implied he should do his best to avoid any confrontation with Umbridge. So, if he thought about it, it wasn't so much that he was cowed into submission, as it was that he was merely following a coinciding order.
He wasn't sure if that made it better.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he admitted, figuring he should at least try honesty. See what that got him. "I got a bit lost in the reading and I did not hear you."
"All three times I asked, Mister Potter? That seems unlikely," Professor Umbridge said with a sneer. She was enjoying this, even Harry could tell. Part of him wondered just how damaged a person had to be to enjoy tormenting a student to this degree. Hell, it practically looked like she was getting off on it.
Then again, he'd spent the previous four years in a castle with Severus Snape. So it wasn't like he was wholly unfamiliar with this treatment. He half wondered if they shared memories with each other.
"I'm sorry Professor. I was really absorbed in the reading," Harry repeated, suppressing the urge to mouth off and wondering just what kind of hex would be the least noticeable as Unbridge left the room. Jelly Legs was too obvious and he wouldn't be around to fully appreciate a babbling hex. He'd have to brainstorm on it for longer.
"And just what was so intriguing to you?" Umbridge asked, clearly not believing him for a minute. Harry let his eyes flash down toward the textbook. They didn't quite obey him as they'd have rather read more about Kaden's history and the Calabarian facts Neville thought he should know. It was excessive, but he'd be fibbing if he didn't find it far more interesting than Defensive Magical Theory by the illustrious Wilbert Slinkhard.
"The usage of conjured smoke in detecting potentially hidden people," Harry said. He only managed to see one sentence without having it be too obvious. And given that Slinkhard's writing style could best be described as boringly random, it may not have had any actual bearing on the chapter.
"That is not this week's reading, Mister Potter," Professor Umbridge snapped at him. She was trying to sound furious. But she really only sounded gleeful. Harry could see the wheels spinning in her head, undoubtedly relishing whatever punishment she was going to be able to dole out.
"I must be a bit ahead," Harry shrugged. "His commentary on looking for the smallest of differences while peering through a created screen was riveting."
"Regardless, Mister Potter," Umbridge frowned. For a moment she almost looked like a disappointed mother. But that vanished in an instant. "That is not what you were assigned to do. Is it so difficult to follow simple instructions?"
"No Professor," Harry said, looking down at the text. His eyes flashed to the parchment covering the text. He hoped Umbridge hadn't noticed as he'd only made it about a third of the way through Neville's list of important people and events in Calabar. He'd skipped the Abruzzi family tree, finding it far less interesting than the Balmon one.
"Then why is it that you seem incapable of doing so?" Professor Umbridge spat. Harry frowned and bit his tongue. He knew that nothing good would come from making any sort of comment.
No. She was trying to bait him into detention. She'd succeeded twice already. Angelina and Neville were both cross with him for it. He'd managed to miss a session of each. Although Neville had canceled, because Dylan Harper had run afoul of Flitwick, earning himself an impressive two detentions for a poorly thought out comment on height.
He hadn't heard what kept Padma from their first few meetings. He'd heard Ron and Hermione talking about something Arithmancy related. Something about a trick with the summer homework and it needing to be redone. He'd been too busy lost in his own head to recall exactly what.
But Neville had been so excited that they'd finally have all five of them together. And they'd finally be able to play the game properly. If only Harry wouldn't mouth off and get another detention from Umbridge.
Which he was desperately trying to avoid.
And from the look of it he was failing at it. But he wasn't sure how to get himself out of it. Being demure didn't seem to be getting him anywhere. In fact, it seemed to be spurring her on.
"I'm sorry, Professor," he said. Largely because he figured he's started down this road he may as well see it through. It wouldn't do him any good to speak his mind at this point. That would be a good way to wind up in detention for the rest of the semester.
"You've said that. Repeatedly. I do not think you mean it," Professor Umbridge said.
"I don't know what you want me to say," Harry admitted. He had to struggle to keep his tone as even as possible. He wasn't going to argue with her. He wasn't going to sound belligerent. He wasn't going to do anything that could be construed as anything aggressive.
"I would like the truth, Mister Potter. I am never going to be able to successfully complete your education without determining exactly where the failures were with all of your previous teachers. I suspect the last two years in particular had the poorest of quality. I'm sure Professor Lupin let you read whatever you liked without any structure. But that is wholly not how you are to act in my classroom. I thought I made that clear when Miss Granger tried to lecture me on the contents of the textbook," Professor Umbridge said.
"I really just picked the wrong chapter, Professor. It was an honest mistake," Harry said. He knew she was trying to bait him. And that he was finding it more difficult than he should to keep his tongue shut. She thought if she insulted his friends he'd snap. But he wasn't going to do that.
"You have a penchant for lies, Mister Potter," Professor Umbridge said. There was a smattering of giggles from other students in the class. As if they could sense where this was going. Some of them, mostly the Slytherins, seemed more amused than anything. A quick glance around the room showed him that most were merely doing their best to not be noticed.
"I, erm," Harry said. She'd backed him into a corner. He couldn't think of a way out of it. Which was a bit obnoxious. But if he argued with her, she'd merely cite all of the things he'd said before that she was convinced were lies, even if they weren't. And then throw him in detention. And if he argued with her, then he was being belligerent. And the only solution to that was to throw him in detention.
He'd have to apologize to Neville as soon as the class was over. He'd tried. Really he'd tried. But he should have known better than to try to keep himself entertained by reading the parchment Neville provided. He should have made sure he focused on the work. His own disinterest in her remedial assignments was his own downfall. He should have known better.
Words bubbled to his lips. Words that were not appropriate in the least. If he was going to wind up in detention then he may as well earn it. That way if Professor McGonagall asked what he'd done, he could at least feel some modicum of pride in it.
He swallowed back the words. He knew acting in anger wouldn't get him anything. In fact, it would hurt his cause far more than help it. If Professor McGonagall asked, and he told her it was because he read the wrong chapter during their silent reading time, and she investigated, well, maybe that would reflect poorly on Umbridge. He didn't want to give any of the other students any cause to say anything different happened. So he kept his mouth shut.
He saw a hand shoot up into the air to his side. He pressed his lips tightly together, resisting the urge to scold Hermione for trying to interrupt. She knew better. She knew that nothing positive could come from rushing to his defense. She knew it would only make her a target for Umbridge.
The hand kept pressing upwards, as if the arm was trying to force itself out of its own socket. It would shoot up every couple of seconds, waving in the air to his left, desperate for the attention of the professor. It was such a familiar motion, something that he'd seen Hermione do in countless classes whenever a Professor didn't call on her for the answer. Umbridge's eyes flashed to it, but she did not call on the student. She'd made the mistake of trying to argue with Hermione once.
The professor won the argument, of course, by ending it on her own terms with no room for discussion. And because Harry had exploded at her. He'd needed to be smarter. He wouldn't let her win that way again.
And then he remembered Hermione was sitting to his right.
"Nothing to say for yourself?" Umbridge sneered. Harry let his eyes drift to the clock in the corner of the classroom. There was too much time left for him to stall until the class was over. No, he figured it was better to just let the ax fall.
"No Professor," he admitted.
"I didn't think so," Umbridge looked positively giddy. He wondered what was worse, Snape's disinterested sneer or her total amusement. She opened her mouth to comment when the girl attached to the arm to his left spoke.
"Professor?" she asked. Umbridge ignored her. Harry peered to his side, trying to see who was trying to interrupt Umbridge. But he wasn't willing to turn his gaze fully from the professor as she stalked toward him. So all he managed to catch was the tapping of pink-striped Adidas.
"So just what are we going to do to teach you to pay proper attention to your assignments?" Umbridge asked, her lips curling into a disgusting smile.
"Professor?" The girl asked again, sounding more urgent. When Umbridge ignored her once more she raised her voice to the point she was almost yelling. Umbridge sneered more and turned her attention to the girl.
"What?" she asked. Harry finally had a chance to look over at whomever bought him the reprieve. He recognized Daphne Greengrass easily enough now. Even if they'd only really had one solid session of Neville's game. He didn't remember her sitting so close to him in class before. Not that he'd ever paid much attention to it.
Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her uniform was pristine, although the Slytherin tie wasn't quite as tight around her throat as it should have been, which was a common failing of most students. Her pale eyes focused on Umbridge, not a hint of worry evident in the irises.
A few of her friends were glaring at her. A mix of confusion and annoyance evident on their faces. A smattering of whispers from her friends filled the room. Harry couldn't pick out the specific voices or the specific words but the message was clear enough.
What are you doing?
"Can I be excused?" Daphne asked.
"Why on earth would I excuse you, miss…" Umbridge said.
"Greengrass. Daphne Greengrass," Daphne said. She spoke with such disdain it stopped Umbridge in her tracks. Her tone was clear, she did not think the toad-faced woman who hadn't bothered to learn the names of the students was worth her time. And Umbridge couldn't scold her for it, as she could just express her absolute shock that their teacher hadn't bothered to learn their names in weeks.
Harry found it impressive. He wasn't sure how she managed to do it. Her voice was cold and she bit off each aspect of her name. It was a long way from the innocent tenor she used during their gaming session. And even further from the more energetic voice she'd used when speaking as Seralyse.
He wondered if she'd even noticed that she used a different voice when talking as the Kin girl. Hell, he wondered if he did the same thing as Kaden without realizing it. He didn't think so.
Still, with just her name, she'd managed to stop Umbridge in her tracks. Harry made a note of asking just how she'd done that. It may have been a useful trait for both Kaden and himself.
Somehow, with just those simple words, she'd managed to impart just what she thought about Umbridge. The Professor who sat up there and lorded it over the students while they read a remedial textbook. The one who couldn't even be bothered to learn the names of the students outside of Harry Potter.
Harry hadn't ever considered what the others would have thought of that. She'd ignored other students, mostly. She'd snap here or there if they had questions, but her vitriol always focused on Harry Potter. The pure disdain in Daphne's voice led him to believe that, despite most of her housemates chuckling at Umbridge's antics, perhaps most of the students shared the Gryffindor opinion on Professor Umbrdige.
"Why on Earth would I excuse you, Miss Greengrass?" Umbridge asked again. She let any annoyance at the girl slide out of her voice. For the briefest of moments it actually felt like she wasn't laying a trap.
"It's an emergency," Daphne said, keeping her tone as neutral as Harry tried. He thought he'd been more successful. He could sense disdain in her words, along with a little bit of worry. Umbridge's response was only to laugh.
"If a student can't manage an hour without having to rush off to the restroom then they are not going to be very successful in life, Miss Greengrass," Professor Umbridge said. Daphne snorted.
"It's not," she started, but Umbridge spoke over her. Clearly not wanting to let a student get more than a few words in. Her obnoxiously high voice filled the classroom. She managed to keep a sing-song cadence that Harry suspected she thought all of the students were five or six years old.
"Surely you can hold it for another ten minutes," Professor Umbridge said. She stood over Daphne's desk, peering down at her and doing her best to make the girl feel small. Harry wondered if it worked. If she were to stand up they'd probably be close to the similar height. But when you were forced to sit you could sometimes forget that.
"I physically can't," Daphne said, as if it were the simplest answer she could possibly give. The implication was clear. If she'd been allowed a wand the crisis may have been averted. Umbridge just shook her head at the girl and continued in her sing-song voice.
"If I let you leave, Miss Greengrass. Then all I am going to deal with, every day, is people conveniently having emergencies to get themselves out of my class. Surely even you can understand how unacceptable that is in an educational environment," Umbridge said. Daphne nodded in a way that was almost demure before she spoke.
"And surely you can understand that only about half of your students can have the same emergency that I'm having," Daphne said. Professor Umbridge paused. Harry noticed a few of the students in the classroom blushing as Daphne spoke. It seemed to take Umbridge a few moments to compute what the girl was saying.
"Excuse me?" she asked, sounding almost aghast that a student would bring up such things in her class room. She looked insulted. Daphne merely raised her brows and met Umbridge's glare. Her expression was clear. She wasn't the one who forced this conversation. Umbrdige had. And if she didn't like the way it was going, she'd already been given multiple outs. But she'd decided to be petulant rather than take them.
"Would you like to see the blood?" Daphne asked. A few students gasped, most merely looked away.
"Miss Greengrass!" Umbridge exclaimed as if Daphne had just cursed her. Daphne kept her expression completely blank. There wasn't the littlest instance of a flush on her cheeks. Her expression looked almost clinical. "That is inappropriate!"
"Menstruation is inappropriate?" Daphne asked. There was no confusion in her voice. There was barely a question. Umbridge flushed a shade of red that Harry hadn't seen since his Ministry trial when he'd been found innocent.
"In this classroom," Umbridge hissed.
"Interesting," Daphne continued almost clinically as she interrupted the teacher. Her tone made it seem like this was the first time she had ever heard that opinion. She expressed her obvious disagreement with little more than a tilt of her head. "That's not what Madame Pomfrey said during her yearly health lecture. And that's certainly not what my mother told me. And she's a healer at St. Mungo's. I'll make sure to tell her in my next letter home. She's been reminding me that Astoria will almost certainly start soon and will likely come to me about it. I'll make sure I tell her how inappropriate it is."
Umbrdige continued to darken. Her eyes narrowed at the girl. Harry wanted to laugh. He wasn't sure how she'd done it. But she'd beaten Umbridge. Her disdain was evident, but she'd turned the entire thing around on the Professor. The entire class knew that Daphne won. And Harry knew that laughing would blow the intermission she'd bought him. So he kept his lips pressed together.
"Then go, Miss Greengrass," Umbridge spat. Daphne nodded. She spent a moment gathering up her books before leaving the classroom with no fanfare. She didn't even bother to look at the Professor as she stalked out of the room.
Harry turned his attention back to the textbook, looking down and doing everything in his power to not be noticed. He half wondered if he should bring his invisibility cloak to class for moments such like this. But that would bring on far too many unwanted questions.
Umbridge said nothing. She went back to her desk and sat, staring at the students, waiting for any sort of disruption to regain her authority. But none came. Everyone was smart enough to focus on the reading.
When the bell finally rang to release them, they gathered up their books and left the classroom. Almost as soon as they were out of it Hermione started her typical complaints about how awful Umbridge was, from her total lack of teaching to her tyrant style in the classroom. Harry didn't pay much attention to it. He'd heard it all before and knew Hermione well enough to know she just had to vent. That she'd have it all out of her system by the time they made it to the Great Hall and that would be the end of it. At least until their next trip to Umbridge's classroom.
Ron, for his part, was also silent. Harry noticed he was peering down at a similar bit of parchment to the one Neville had given him. He wondered what it all entailed although, from reading his, he knew it must have been some of the same information. Kaden and Arestes were nearly as joined at the hip as Ron and Harry were.
They turned a corner as Hermione continued to vent. Harry saw Daphne leaning against a wall, peering down at her own piece of parchment as she waited for something. Harry fell out of step with Ron and Hermione and moved over toward her.
"Thanks," he said. If she was startled by his presence she gave no indication. Instead she folded his parchment over and peered at him.
"Figured I got you into one jail I may as well get you out of another," Daphne said.
"I appreciate it," Harry said. Daphne nodded.
"Don't expect me to fake my period every time that bitch decides to try to throw you in detention. You'll have to come up with a better way to prevent Neville from trying to kill you," Daphne said.
"I will…wait..fake?" Harry blinked.
"What can I say," Daphne shrugged. "I'm a good actress. Conned my mother into potions for that over the summer."
"I see," Harry said. He felt himself start to blush. Daphne smiled at him.
"Not a conversation you have much, eh?" she asked.
"Never before," Harry admitted. Daphne nodded and held the parchment up toward him.
"We're not all kin with our yearly seasons," she laughed.
"Is that even necessary information?" Harry asked, he couldn't quite match her laugh but he found himself amused by it nonetheless.
"Well, Neville didn't say anything about it. But the book does reference breeding habits of the Kin, so something to stay in character," Daphne said. "Neville focused far more on the politics of current kin culture."
"Care to share?" Harry asked.
"If you're interested in the two sentences on breeding habits, borrow the book," Daphne said. But she smirked at him. And it made him blush more. He wasn't quite sure why, but something about the way her mouth curled upwards was far more appealing than it should have been.
"I was referring to the politics," Harry said. Daphne raised her brows then leaned toward him. When she spoke it was barely a whisper.
"For my eyes only," she said, before tucking the parchment into her bag.
"Boo," Harry said.
"Well, you have your own to study," Daphne said. "I saw you reading it rather than reading Umbridge's assignment."
"Were you doing anything differently?"
"No, but she doesn't hate me," Daphne said.
"Yet," Harry laughed. "She has a long memory."
"Yes, I suppose I'll have to be the demure good little girl in her class for the next couple of weeks," Daphne frowned.
"She doesn't seem hostile to Slytherins," Harry said.
"She's a bitch to everyone that questions her," Daphne said. "She threw Astoria in detention for voicing the same opinion as Granger that a class without using spells was pointless," Daphne said. If Harry was honest, he wasn't sure who Astoria was. But a voice in the back of his head remembered something about a sister so he assumed that had to be it.
"It does seem like a waste of time," Harry admitted. Daphne nodded.
"Well, they'll have to fire her when we all fail our practical exam," she shrugged. "So we have that to look forward to."
"I'd rather it not come to that," Harry said.
"Hate to think of what they will send next year to replace her?" Daphne teased. Harry couldn't help but chuckle under his breath.
"That's a frightening thought, really. They'd probably send a Dementor or something," Harry said.
"Don't give them any ideas. They'd find that to be the perfect professor. Would certainly keep the classroom in line. If Umbridge hears you she'll probably bring one in as an assistant," Daphne said.
"I'll keep my voice down then," Harry smiled. Daphne nodded and undid her ponytail, throwing her hair over one shoulder as she tossed the hair tie into her bag. Something about the cascading of hair drew Harry's attention more than he thought it should.
"Smart," she said. "So going to share any of Kaden's secrets then?"
"When you won't share any of Sera's?"
"Seralyse," Daphne corrected.
"When you won't share any of Seralyse's?" Harry asked.
"Could always trade," Daphne suggested, her brows raised.
"Be an awful lot of trust to make sure we were getting equal value," Harry said.
"Risks we have to take," Daphne answered.
"I should probably read the entire thing before I tell anyone anything in it. Besides, it's mostly just history to this point. I'm not sure there's anything worth sharing yet," Harry admitted. "Just a lot of things every Calabarian should know."
"There's a lot of that in mine too," Daphne said. "But it's all the Kin."
"Seems like a lot of effort on his part," Harry said.
"Dylan isn't a fan," Daphne shrugged. "But he's trying to tell some sort of story through us. It hasn't really felt like he's leading us to a certain point. He didn't press us in any direction last time. It's probably kept me more interested than I would have been."
"I guess," Harry shrugged. He had no real answer other than that. Daphne's eyes flashed down the hall and she smiled at someone approaching them. She turned back to Harry.
"Well, try to keep yourself out of detention," she said. Her lips curled back into a smile, one that sent a flutter through his chest more than he thought something as silly as a smile should be able to do. "Try to come up with something more interesting for our next conversation."
"I'll do my best," Harry said. She walked by him and walked straight up to Dylan Harper as he approached from the other end of the hallway. He said something Harry couldn't hear. Whatever it was, it amused Daphne as the smile flashed back across her face.
Something primal in Harry made him immediately regret that he wasn't the source of the smile. There was no reason that some stupid fourth year should be able to amuse her so much as they started to walk down the hallway away from him. He could see their conversations continuing as they moved away from him.
There was a quick back and forth, for some reason Daphne faked fainting and then took his arm, one hand flashing up to her head as if steadying herself, as they laughed some more before they turned out of his vision. Harry stared after them long after they were gone.
"What was that about?" Ron asked, moving next to him and peering at his best friend.
"Nothing, just thanking her for the distraction from Umbridge," Harry admitted.
"Uh-huh," Ron said, his brows raised knowingly.
"You should have really paid more attention in class, Harry. You know she's out to put you in detention as much as she can," Hermione chastised. Harry saw Ron roll his eyes, but Hermione apparently missed it.
"She'll find an excuse regardless, if she wants to," Harry shrugged.
"You don't have to make it easier for her!" Hermione countered. She was right. The intelligent part of his brain knew that. But the part of his brain that had been forced to shut up and cower to Umbridge was the part that won.
"Next time I'll just tell her where Sirius Black is. That will shut her up in a hurry," Harry scoffed. Hermione bristled.
"You know you can't do that," she said.
"Obviously."
"So why even say it?"
"Why even comment on how Umbridge hates me?" Harry countered. He saw Ron narrow his eyes, but his friend didn't comment yet.
"Because you need to be more careful," Hermione said.
"Because he doesn't know that already," Ron interrupted with a roll of his eyes.
"Ron! You know as well as he does that he can't lose his temper with her. That he needs to keep calm!" Hermione argued. To both of their surprise, Ron burst out laughing.
"Were you in class?" he asked.
"Excuse me?" Hermione glared at him. "You know I was!"
"Then did I just completely miss the part where he lost his temper?" Ron asked.
"Well, he didn't," Hermione said. She opened her mouth to continue but Ron interrupted her.
"So you're lecturing him to not do something he went to great lengths to not do?" Ron asked. Hermione turned her glare back at him.
"He might have," she responded as petulantly as she could. Ron nodded.
"But he didn't," he said. "He might have regaled her with the entire history of the royal family of Calabar, or he might have taken her head off with a blasting curse."
"Interesting options," Harry added.
"I'd have been fine with either, mind you. But the point is he didn't. He did exactly what he was told to do. And it was a sheer stroke of luck that he escaped without a detention," Ron said. "We both know it. He knows it. You think he doesn't feel like shit about it already? There's no reason to harp on him for it."
"I don't know why you're spending so much time on a silly dice game. You should be studying for your exams. The tests this year will determine your future," Hermione said.
"Because the dice game is more fun," Ron countered without even a moment's hesitation.
"Don't blame me when you fail all your exams," Hermione huffed.
"Have I ever blamed you for my own failings?" Ron asked. Hermione rolled her eyes and stalked off ahead of them, moving to the Great Hall and Lunch.
"You shouldn't rile her up," Harry said. "She's not wrong."
"Sure. But that doesn't mean we need to hear about it. I was every bit as deep into Lorakian history as you were while we were supposed to be reading. Umbridge only cares when you do it," Ron said. "Hell, you came up with a much better impromptu excuse than I did."
"Not as good as Daphne's," Harry said.
"No, I suppose not," Ron answered with a blush.
"Anything good in the history of Lorak?" Harry asked.
"Lots of family trees. I'm not even sure how most of them are connected. It's a spider's web of insanity. And you know how much I like spiders," Ron said with a shake of his head.
"Should write to Sirius," Harry laughed. "He at least has experience deciphering family trees."
"Mostly I think we should get Neville checked into the hospital to make sure he's not insane," Ron laughed as they entered the Great Hall. Hermione was sitting with Lavender rather than at their usual spot. Ron and Harry decided it best to leave her alone for the time being. Neville joined them and the familiar conversations started once again.
It commenced with how much of a pain Umbridge was. Harry nodded his agreement, knowing full well there was nothing he could add that wasn't the same complaints they'd all voice at some time. There was nothing more he could add. Dean and Seamus joined their conversations for a moment. At least until they started talking more about Conjurations and Catacombs.
Neville tried to convince the other two Gryffindors how much fun of a game it was, and how they would be more than welcome to join in whenever they wanted to. But his pleas fell on deaf ears and the two of them shifted away and started to debate the competitiveness of the Premier League when compared to the British League of Quidditch. It was a topic the two of them debated before. And one that Harry had no real opinion on, aside from wishing Dudley's favorite team, Arsenal, would lose and that Ron's favorite team, Chudley, would win.
So, mostly, he had nothing to add to the conversation. Which he learned didn't excuse him from said conversation. Thankfully, it wasn't too long before the focus on professional quidditch turned into Hogwarts quidditch.
Seamus was visibly annoyed by that. Apparently both he and Dean had tried out for the team this year. Something that Harry missed thanks to one of his detentions with Umbridge. And while Ron was the new starting keeper, both Dean and Seamus had failed to make the team. But, Angelina had asked Dean to come to some of the practices to serve as an extra pair of hands or as a defender during some of the drills. An honor that Seamus hadn't earned.
The implication of it was fairly clear, Dean was far closer to making a Gryffindor quidditch team than his friend was.
They lamented the grueling schedule Angelina had them on. One that led to only two free nights a week for Harry and Ron. Seamus seemed utterly uninterested in their complaining, his expression clear as day. He'd have given anything to be in their shoes.
Harry tried to change the subject to placate his friend. But no one was that interested in their Charms homework. And he had no idea what else to talk about. He let his gaze shift across the Great Hall, his mind flashing over Neville's history as he had nothing better to think about.
He wasn't sure he liked Neville's ideas for his character. He saw how they all fit. And he guessed they made sense. But part of him was bothered that he'd had what felt like so little input on it.
Which was stupid, he knew, as Neville had asked him if he wanted to come up with the backstory himself or not and, being a naive pissant, he'd decided that he had better things to do. Like, well, not coming up with a backstory for a fictional character he wasn't sure he was going to spend more than an hour with in his entire life.
His eyes found Daphne across the Great Hall. He wasn't looking for her. At least he didn't think so. She was sitting next to Dylan Harper and a girl that looked like a younger version of herself. That, he assumed, must have been Astoria. The younger girl was pestering Dylan. The conversation seemed lively enough. Daphne was holding a sandwich in her left hand while she scribbled notes on parchment before her with a quill in her right.
He wondered what it would be like to be amusing her sister while she worked on something else. He wondered how someone even got to that point. It couldn't have been that hard. Others seemed to pull it off. He wondered just what it took for Dylan to look completely at ease, and almost happy, to be dealing with Daphne's younger sister.
He knew the two of them were together a lot. And had been since Dylan's first year according to some. He'd wondered who made the first move. If Dylan had pulled that off at eleven, and it was still working years later, well, he had to applaud him. He was jealous, mind you, but he still had to give his props.
He pulled his eyes away from Daphne and let them continue across the Great Hall. He found Cho Chang at the Ravenclaw table. She was looking down at her food, poking it with a fork but not eating any of it. It reminded him of himself before a Quidditch match. But that similarity didn't feel exactly right.
While he didn't eat out of nerves. She looked more sad than anything. A girl sitting next to her was trying to talk to her, but it was having absolutely no effect on her. Harry looked away, unsure of what else he could do.
He wished he could ask someone for advice. The conversations in the dorm room about girls often ended up with nothing more than a rating of which girl they would most like to date, or which girl was the hottest, or such inane things like that.
It was an interesting way to pass an evening. But Harry couldn't help but think it was very unlikely to help him in any meaningful way. And he doubted any of the advice he'd get from his dormitory mates would be effective for putting himself where Dylan Harper was at that moment.
He wondered why his mind flashed back to Dylan Harper. At the same moment that his eyes flashed back to Daphne Greengrass. She was still lost in her notes, paying little attention to the giggling Astoria or the smiling Dylan.
He wasn't jealous. He didn't think so. There wasn't any sort of roaring in his chest, or any sense that he should have been in place of the Slytherin boy. But there was something about the trio over at the Slytherin table that he wanted to be a part of.
A small voice in the back of his head whispered that had he not met Ron, had he not argued with the Sorting Hat during his first year, he may very well have been sitting with them right now, laughing at some inane joke and smiling at his lunch. It was an odd thought.
A stupid one, though. As it begged one other very specific question. Would he have traded the friendship of Ron and Hermione for Dylan Harper and Daphne Greengrass? Not in a million years. He knew he was being stupid. That there was nothing there he couldn't have achieved on his own, if only he knew how to do it. He could have everything that was over there. He just needed to know how to do it.
His mind flashed to his Godfather. That was who he really wanted to talk to. They hadn't talked as much as he'd have liked during his short stay at Grimmauld Place that summer. But it was still more than he'd ever had with someone he considered family.
Not that his time with the Weasley's was ever something he disliked. It was just, well, Arthur Weasley wasn't a father figure to him. The man would have certainly helped him, talked to him, answered any questions he could have asked.
But something about it just felt wrong. Like it wasn't Mister Weasley's job to do so. And while that was purely in his head, and he knew it was probably untrue, it still was something he struggled to get over.
With Sirius it felt different. There was something about the man, a sort of adoration in his eyes, a warmth in his smile that put him at ease. That made Harry know for sure that Sirius wanted to help him in any way he could. That Sirius was more than willing to provide any sort of advice he could possibly need.
Harry wondered how he'd been so short sighted to not think to ask him about girls before he'd gone off to Hogwarts. Especially now when that was the only real advice he wanted. There had to be some sort of trick to it. Something he should have figured out at the Yule Ball but hadn't.
He could hear Sirius laughing at him. He could see his smile as Harry asked the hypothetical question. He could see the amusement on his face. As if Harry was missing some grand, obvious secret.
He could hear the advice readily enough. All he had to do was talk to them. It wasn't that hard. It wasn't like they were some alien race. They were just people, like him. With many of the same interests and desires as him. And the easiest way to discover just what those were, was merely to ask them.
Most of the time he'd get honest answers. And sure, some of the time the answer would be no. In which case you just smiled at her and went on your way. That was all you could do. Sometimes persistence would win. Most of the time it wouldn't.
And none of it would matter if you didn't just talk to them.
It couldn't be that easy, Harry thought to himself.
But could it?
Why not? It wasn't like they ignored you when you spoke to them. Hell, you'd made Daphne smile with just a few comments. And she was a Slytherin with no real incentive to like you. But it almost seemed like she had. Could it be that difficult with anyone else? There was only one real way to find out, and that would be to test it. He'd have to think of when to do so.
Padma Patel took that moment to sit next to Neville. She smiled at his housemate then raised her brows and looked at Harry.
"Did you make it through Defense this week without a detention?" she asked. He wondered if it would have been easier had they shared classes with the Ravenclaws instead. But that was stupid. The thought that Umbridge was posturing for the Slytherins was dumb. She had no real reason to posture for a bunch of students. And it was silly to assume just because Umbridge disliked him meant she had anything positive to say about Slytherin students.
"Strangely enough, I did," Harry said. Padma's eyes lit up and a smile flashed across her face. Harry saw Neville blush and look away. He wondered if it really was that easy. Padma looked so excited by his simple words.
"So we can finally play as a whole group," she said as her smile grew.
"Looks like it," Harry said.
"Great. I can finally get out of the purgatory Harper put me in," she teased.
"Do I want to know?" Harry asked.
"You'll find out on Wednesday," Padma smirked at him. Harry turned his gaze to Neville.
"What'd I miss?"
"Don't you dare," Padma shot a glare at Neville. His friend stuttered but did manage to come up with a reply.
"You'll find out on Wednesday," Neville reiterated. Padma's smile grew even more as her attention focused on Neville. She only stayed at their table for a minute longer. Neville watched her go, his eyes not leaving her as she walked away.
"Ask her to Hogsmeade," Harry said as she left. Neville blinked and stared at him.
"She would laugh at me," Neville countered.
"I don't think so," Harry said.
"No chance," Neville reiterated.
"Worst she can say is no," Ron added. Neville flushed crimson and looked away from the both of them. Harry and Ron exchanged looks, their brows raised. In truth, they would have likely reacted exactly as Neville had in the same situation. But for that moment, with that knowing look between them, both of them believed they had far more courage than their friend.
But, at the very least, it would give them something to tease him about.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing I do appreciate all of the support I receive. If you wish to support me further I am available on PAT RE ON at TE7writes. The first fourteen chapters of this story are currently live there as well as I believe the next five of my other work-in-progress, Cleansing the Sins of the Past.
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