Monday, 4th September

After Arithmancy, Harry walked down to the third-floor DADA classroom with Hermione on his right, Theo on his left, and Daphne on Theo's far side.

It was a… somewhat awkward affair, neither of them seeming to know what to say to one another, which truly was a shame given that Harry thought Hermione would get along with both studious, intelligent Slytherins brilliantly.

But, without having said a word, she broke away from them to join Ron and Neville when they reached their class, giving him a sheepish smile as she sat down on what was most assuredly the Gryffindor side of the room. The divide couldn't have been any clearer if they'd tried - the aisle down the middle of the classroom formed the line that separated the Gryffindor students from the Slytherins.

Harry smiled back but obediently joined his House, taking a seat between Blaise and Theo. He planned on shaking things up in the future, of course, but right now, he wanted to keep himself as quiet and invisible as possible until he could get a read on Madam Umbridge.

The woman herself was already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and a black velvet bow on top of her head. Harry was reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad. The class was quiet as they finished entering the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown entity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

"Well, good afternoon!" she said when finally the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled "Good afternoon" in reply.

"Tut, tut" she said, "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge" they chanted back at her.

"There, now" she said sweetly, "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please".

Were they going to be learning wandless magic? Harry shoved his wand back inside his arm holster and pulled out a quill, ink, and parchment, suddenly hopeful that this might just be a class he could excel in. Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand - which was an unusually short one - and tapped the blackboard sharply with it. Words appeared on the board at once:

Defence Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" she stated, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her, "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please".

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

Course aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

For a couple of minutes, the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Umbridge's three course aims she said, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again" she said, "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge', or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge" rang through the room.

"Good. I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners'. There will be no need to talk".

And no need for wandless magic either, Harry realised, scowling as he turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read. It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. He felt his concentration sliding away from him; he had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. It didn't matter; he'd already read this book before, after all, but that just made it even more difficult to concentrate on it.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge suddenly said.

Harry looked up only to find Hermione waving her hand in the air.

"Not about the chapter, no-"

"Well, we're reading just now" Umbridge interrupted, showing her small, pointed teeth, "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class".

"I've got a query about your course aims".

Oh, now this should be interesting. Harry slowly straightened up in his seat, seeing Blaise and Theo do the same on either side of him.

"And your name is-?"

"Hermione Granger".

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully" Umbridge said in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't" Hermione replied bluntly, "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells".

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge repeated with a little laugh, "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron asked loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr-?"

"Weasley" he said, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Neville and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes glanced around the room, lingering on Harry for a moment, before turning back to the trio.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes. Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Umbridge asked in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but-"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way".

Now, several other people had their hands up too.

"And your name is?"

"Dean Thomas".

"Well, Mr Thomas?"

"If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free-"

"I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school" she cut him off, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "But you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention, extremely dangerous half-breeds".

Oh, she did not just go for Remus like that! Harry felt a burst of fury well up inside of him and for a second, a split second, he considered cursing her then and there. Their wands were in their bags, after all, so it would never be traced back to him. Dumbledore or Snape might put two and two together eventually, but where was the evidence? Just one little Diffindo cast nice and neatly at her throat and then-

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions" Umbridge said dismissively.

"Without ever practising them before?" a dark-haired girl asked incredulously, "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough-"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Ron asked loudly, his hand in the air again.

"This is a school, Mr Weasley, not the real world" she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Weasley. Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe Dark wizards or Death Eaters or maybe even You-Know-Who!"

Hermione gasped, another girl uttered a little scream, and Neville dropped his book. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Ron with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Wealsey... Now, let me make a few things quite plain". Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk. "You may have heard the rumours about a certain Dark wizard returning from the dead. This is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means, come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend".

Her beady eyes scanned the room, before finally coming to land on Harry. She smiled, slowly and horribly, her pink lipstick looking like a gaping wound spreading across her face.

"You've been strangely quiet on this matter, Mr Potter. What do you think about my course aims?"

McGonagall's words echoed back to him. She will be looking for an excuse to make an enemy out of you. Do not give her that chance. He'd promised her that he wouldn't-

"I think that the Ministry believes them to be adequate, ma'am" he replied evenly, "And who am I to question the Ministry?"

There was something dark in her gaze, something unfurling unhappily as he didn't rise to the bait.

"Who are you indeed" she murmured, "And as for all that nonsense about Dark wizards returning? As our resident Boy Who Lived, what do you have to say about that?"

-but that had been before she'd called Remus an extremely dangerous half-breed.

"Nothing" Harry said, pleasantly, "I don't believe in a single rumour that says a Dark wizard has returned".

She gave a self-satisfied smile, obviously believing him cowed into submission, and turned back to the textbook in front of her. Ron sent him a betrayed look.

"Now, a Dark Lord on the other hand…"

Next to him, Blaise jerked back in shock and someone across the room fell off their chair. Umbridge's face slowly started to turn red and he could see her hands gripping the edge of the desk tightly.

"What?" she bit out between clenched teeth.

"A Dark Lord" Harry repeated blithely, "There's a difference, you see, between a Dark wizard and a Dark Lord. Being a Ministry-trained educational expert, I'd have thought you'd have known that. There are plenty of Dark wizards out there, after all - there are even some here at Hogwarts; it's not a crime, you know - but there is only one Dark Lord… and he is very much still alive".

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Detention, Mr Potter!" Umbridge finally spat, "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office!"

He merely smiled pleasantly in response.

On his other side, Theo was giving him a curious, somewhat cautious look, and he could feel the rest of his year's eyes on him from around the room too. Rumours were bound to spread after class - he could probably trust the Slytherins to keep their mouths shut since it was in their Lord's best interest too, but the Gryffindors would be ranting and raving the second they left this room.

Behave yourself, Dumbledore had told him, and keep your head down.

Oh well. What was life without a little drama, anyway? He'd hate to get bored.

The moment Professor Umbridge dismissed the class, they practically bolted out of the room, chattering in hushed tones that still managed to fill the corridor. Harry was barely out the door when Hermione, Ron, and Neville rushed over to him, their faces alight with excitement.

"That was brilliant, mate!" Ron exclaimed, clapping Harry on the shoulder with a wide grin, "Just wait until I tell the twins about this! You showed her!"

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone talk to a professor like that" Neville added, his tone a mix of awe and nervousness, "First Snape, and now Umbridge? Are you insane?!"

"Well, I figured the worst she could do was give me detention" Harry replied, somewhat overwhelmed by the sudden bombardment of Gryffindors, "If she'd wanted me to keep my mouth shut, she shouldn't have goaded me like that. Insulting Remus crossed the line".

Hermione shook her head, looking half-impressed and half-worried. "I don't know whether to congratulate you or yell at you for being so reckless!"

"Oh, give over 'Mione" Ron said, grinning, "As if you didn't think what he said was bloody brilliant too! Seriously, mate - 'A Dark Lord on the other hand' - I could've kissed you when you said that!"

"No offence, but I'd rather you didn't" he replied dryly, "Redheads aren't really my type".

There was a beat of stunned silence before the boy burst out laughing.

"Yeah, fair enough. I prefer blonds myself… But listen, mate, about… about earlier…" Ron's expression turned sheepish as he shuffled awkwardly on his feet. "I, uh… I'm sorry. For how I've been… well, ignoring you, really. I just… I really wasn't expecting you to actually end up in Slytherin, despite what you said on the train, but that- that's on me, yeah? I know you're the same person now as you were then, but I don't think it really clicked for me until I heard you talk back to Umbridge like that, so… I'm sorry for being an idiot... We good?"

"You really were being an idiot" Harry said bluntly, "But yeah, we're good".

His ears had turned red from embarrassment, but the relief on his face was unmistakable.

"Well isn't this heartwarming" came a familiar drawl from behind him, "The weasel grovelling at Potter's feet. How quaint".

Ron bristled immediately, his earlier sheepishness replaced by fiery indignation. "No one's grovelling for anything, ferret! I'm just sorting things out with my friend".

"Your friend?" Malfoy echoed, raising an eyebrow, "That's funny. I can't seem to recall you talking to Potter since school started, and usually, that's the first indicator of friendship".

"I hardly think you've got a leg to stand on in that regard" Hermione shot back, crossing her arms, "Or are Thing One and Thing Two over there really your first choice for company?"

Crabbe and Goyle, hovering behind the blond, merely blinked in response, but Draco got that look on his face that Harry was starting to associate with trouble.

"Less of the bickering, yeah?" he quickly intercepted, "We're fifteen, not five - I don't think any of us should be arguing over who's friends with who!"

Thankfully, they all looked suitably chastised, although both boys did shoot each other a dark look in the process.

"Right" Harry continued, exasperated, "Now that you've got all of that out of your systems, how about we head to dinner before the food runs out?"

Malfoy sniffed but fell into step behind him while Blaise took up his customary position on Harry's right, Theo on his left, and Ron, Hermione, and Neville filled in the gaps around them. The other Slytherins and Gryffindors had long since left for the Great Hall.

"Still" Blaise said, smirking, "I'm surprised you made it out of that class alive, meu amor. Umbridge looked just about ready to combust".

"Like I said; what's the worst she can do?" Harry replied, "A few hours writing lines is more than worth wiping that look off her face, in my opinion".

"Provided that's all she does" Theo countered quietly, "She's reporting to the Ministry, after all. Who's to say she won't open some sort of inquiry?"

"That Prophet article about you really was quite damning, Harry" Hermione agreed, looking worried, "If the Minister for Magic truly believes that Professor Dumbledore has been training you to take down the Ministry…"

"Then Umbridge will have no problem in making you an example" Theo finished, giving the girl a brief, considering look, "There isn't much she wouldn't do for the Minister, and as much as I dislike the Headmaster, I cannot deny that Hogwarts is a far safer place with him in it".

"You think Umbridge will use what I said as proof that Dumbledore's raising an army to take down Cornelius Fudge? And with him out of the picture-"

"-Umbridge or another high-up Ministry official could take his place instead" Hermione realised, "And with the Ministry fully in control of Hogwarts, the Minister could change everything! Rewrite the curriculum, remove some of our classes, do whatever the hell he wants to make sure we'll never rise up against him again!"

The other three Slytherins were giving her curious looks.

"... Huh" Blaise finally said, "I mean, I knew you were smart, but I didn't think you were clever".

"T-There's a d-difference?" Neville asked, looking dreadfully nervous at being so close to the dark-haired boy.

"Of course, there is" Theo said dismissively, his honey-brown eyes remaining locked on Hermione, "Smart means you can think how other people think. Clever means you can think for yourself… For what it's worth, I think you're wasted as a lion, Granger".

Hermione blushed, her warm skin darkening even further as she averted her gaze. "Oh, well, uh, thank you, I suppose, but I'm perfectly happy being in Gryffindor".

"A pity" he replied, turning away again. Harry glanced over at Blaise, both eyebrows raised - a look which the boy readily returned.

"What is it with you Slytherins and your bloody scheming?" Ron complained, "Not everything is about ulterior motives, you know!"

Draco tilted his head, his eyes wide with mock sincerity. "Oh, please do forgive us, weasel, for actually using our brains. It must be terribly unfamiliar to you".

"You want to repeat that, Malfoy?!"

"Yes, actually, I do. You see, we-"

"-are not going to start arguing again!" Harry finished firmly as they reached the doors of the Great Hall, "Can you two not remain civil with each other for five bloody minutes?!"

"Gryffindor's don't know the meaning of the word" Draco replied blithely.

"Malfoy".

The blond rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Oh, alright! I hope you choke on your food but survive, weasel. There. Is that better?"

"Marginally" Harry replied dryly, "I'll see you guys tomorrow, alright?"

Hermione and Neville both nodded and dragged a still-spluttering Ron away with them as they headed for the Gryffindor table. Harry and the other Slytherins started towards their own, and he knew he wasn't the only one who felt multiple pairs of eyes on him.

Evidently, the news about his argument with Umbridge had travelled exceptionally fast, even by Hogwarts standards. Harry heard whispers all around him as they finally sat down, and more than one burning glare coming from the professors' head table. Umbridge herself, most likely, and perhaps McGonagall too, albeit for a different reason, and maybe even-

"Don't look now" Blaise muttered under his breath, "But I don't think Snape likes you anymore".

Tuesday, 5th September

Somehow, Harry's second day ended up being even worse than his first, and he found himself wishing that he could go back in time to Sunday night to tell his past self exactly what life had in store for him next.

Staring at his name emblazoned across the front page of the Daily Prophet for the second time in as many weeks, feeling the stares of half the Great Hall on him, Harry could only shake his head and sigh.

THE BOY WHO LIVED TO BE A SNAKE?

By Rita Skeeter

In a turn of events that has left the wizarding world in a state of shock and disbelief, Harry Potter, Lord Gloucester, the famed Boy Who Lived, has been sorted into none other than Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yes, you read that correctly, dear readers - Slytherin, the very House that has produced some of the darkest witches and wizards in history, including You-Know-Who himself.

When Harry Potter, the only child of James and Lily Potter, heroes of the tragic events of Godric's Hollow, first entered Hogwarts, all eyes were on the Sorting Hat, eagerly awaiting the decision that would shape his future. Most expected Gryffindor, the house of bravery, where his parents once roared with courage. But in a twist that could only be described as chilling, the Sorting Hat took its time, before declaring, in a voice that echoed throughout the Great Hall, "SLYTHERIN!"

One can only imagine the reactions of the staff and students, especially those in Gryffindor, who had already begun celebrating their new star recruit. But what does this unexpected sorting mean for the Boy Who Lived? And what does it say about the man - or should I say, the boy - behind the legend?

Slytherin House, as many of us know, values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness - qualities that can lead to greatness, but also, as history has shown, to infamy. Could it be that young Mr. Potter possesses traits that align more closely with the darker side of our magical world? Is there a hidden agenda in Potter that has yet to reveal itself?

Some might argue that this is simply a case of the Sorting Hat seeing potential in young Harry - after all, not all Slytherins go bad. But can we really ignore the fact that this House has produced some of the most notorious Dark wizards in history?

And what of Dumbledore? How must he feel, knowing that the boy he watched over for so long is now under the influence of Severus Snape, the Head of Slytherin House - a man whose loyalty has been questioned time and again? Is Hogwarts' greatest hero in danger of being swayed down a darker path? And what about the whispers that perhaps Potter was not just chosen by Slytherin but wanted to be there? As you can see in the picture above, he is already consorting with known Dark families.

It's hard to ignore the symbolism, isn't it? The lightning-bolt scar, a Dark curse mark left by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and now, being sorted into Slytherin - a House known for its connection to the Dark Arts. Could these be signs of something more sinister brewing within the Boy Who Lived?

The Daily Prophet will, of course, be keeping a close eye on Lord Gloucester's journey through Hogwarts. Let's hope, for the sake of the wizarding world, that he doesn't succumb to the temptations of power and darkness that have led so many Slytherins astray. But one must wonder, is this a sign of the beginning of a new, darker chapter in the life of our young hero?

Only time will tell, but rest assured, dear readers, that this journalist will be watching every move Harry Potter makes - after all, who better than Rita Skeeter to uncover the truth behind the Boy Who Lived?

And there, in between the front page headline and the article itself, was the photograph Colin Creevy had taken of him the morning before - Harry hoped the kid had gotten a good price for it.

It had been taken as he had turned to face the camera, his expression a blend of irritation and curiosity, the lightning bolt scar covering most of his forehead clearly visible. The Slytherin crest on his robes was in full focus too, but at least it wasn't as glaringly obvious as it would've been had the photo been in full colour instead of just black and white. Either way, he didn't exactly look very… approachable.

On his right, stood Blaise, tall and posed with an elegant nonchalance that seemed almost calculated. His dark eyes glittered with amusement as he tilted his head slightly towards the camera, exuding the cool confidence that only a born and raised pure-blooded noble could manage in such an unexpected moment.

To Harry's left, standing half a step behind, was Theo, who appeared much more reserved but no less enigmatic. His eyes were narrowed slightly with suspicion, his posture subtly yet undeniably defensive. Unlike Blaise, he'd made no attempt to mask his distaste about the situation, and his body language spoke volumes - namely; he wasn't very happy about being accosted by a fourth-year camera-wielding Gryffindor.

The photo moved in a continuous loop, his own expression shifting from surprise to annoyance, Blaise's knowing smirk widening in mischievous delight, Theo's glare intensifying. In the background, a blur of other students whispered and gawked, their heads turning toward the trio like iron filings drawn to a magnet.

"Well" Blaise finally said, staring at the paper over his shoulder, "At least it's a good photo".

"Thanks" Harry replied dryly.

"I was actually talking about myself".

He snorted and tossed the newspaper on the table in front of him. "Does she ever get bored of writing complete and utter bullshit?"

"Not in my experience, no". Blaise snagged the Prophet from his plate to examine the article more closely. "But hey - at least Skeeter didn't mention what you said to Umbridge. Having a direct quote from the Boy Who Lived about the Dark Lord? She'd quite possibly murder someone for that".

"Yeah, well, there's still plenty of time for her to twist that into some sensational headline" Harry grumbled, stabbing at his scrambled eggs, "Next week it'll probably be 'Boy Who Lived Declares Allegiance to Dark Forces!' or something equally ridiculous!"

Theo, who had been quietly sipping his tea, raised an eyebrow. "If she's as opportunistic as she seems, I'd bet she's already drafting it. I give it three days, tops".

Blaise leaned back in his seat, still reading the article. "It's not all bad. She does paint you as intriguingly mysterious. Makes you sound more like a tragic antihero than a potential Dark Lord".

"That's not exactly comforting" he muttered, giving a subtle glance to the head table.

Sure enough, Umbridge was glaring daggers at him, her lips pressed into such a tight line they almost disappeared. Dumbledore was harder to read; his face was impassive, but his blue eyes flicked between Harry and the other Slytherins with something like suspicion. McGonagall, bless her, just looked worried, her lips pursed as she read her own copy of the Prophet, whereas Snape was as expertly blank-faced as ever.

"Well, you've certainly made yourself the talk of the castle" Blaise continued, folding the paper in two, "Slytherin's very own celebrity. You'll be signing autographs next".

"I think I'll pass" Harry replied, shaking his head, "I'm already sick of the bloody attention, and it's barely been a single day! Can't I just get through the school year without someone trying to write my life story?"

Theo smirked and then poorly hid it behind his mug. "Considering who you are and the friends you've made, that seems… optimistic".

Harry groaned. "Why did I ever think coming to Hogwarts was a good idea?"

"Because staying in the muggle world wasn't exactly a compelling alternative?" Blaise offered, earning a snort of laughter. "Yeah. Touché".

Across from him, Draco suddenly reached out to grab the newspaper. He'd been doing a very bad job at appearing uninterested in their conversation all along, but it would seem that his patience had finally run out.

"Honestly, I can't decide if this is more embarrassing for you or for the rest of us" he said snidely, scanning the photo, "The first Potter to ever be sorted into Slytherin. What a disgrace".

"The only thing that's embarrassing and a disgrace, Malfoy, is your jealousy at being upstaged" Blaise replied lazily, refilling his coffee cup and adding a truly horrifying amount of sugar.

Draco's pale cheeks flushed, and his grip on the newspaper tightened. "Upstaged? By Potter? Don't make me laugh!"

"Oh, I don't have to. You're doing a fine job of that yourself".

Harry decided to intervene before Malfoy could launch into a full-blown tirade. "Just let it go, alright? I've got enough drama to deal with as it is without adding your bickering into the mix".

"Like an old married couple" Theo said, not at all that quietly, and to his right, Daphne snorted even as Blaise and Draco both spun on him with outraged expressions.

"How dare you! I don't even like men!"

"And while I do, I most certainly have better taste than a bloody Zabini!"

"The lady doth protest too much…" Harry muttered, earning a shocked burst of laughter from Davis two seats down and very confused looks from everyone else.

"The lady?" Draco asked, frowning, "What lady? What are you even talking about, Potter?"

"Don't worry about it" Harry replied, smirking, before downing the last of his pumpkin juice and standing up, "I've got something I have to do before class, so I'll see you in Charms, alright?"

Climbing onto his bed, Harry silenced the curtains around him before pulling out the two-way mirror and clearly calling his godfather's name.

The surface shimmered and rippled and then, after a moment, Sirius's face appeared, stormy grey eyes alight with anger, his brows drawn into a scowl. He was closely followed by Remus leaning into view, looking more measured but no less concerned.

"Harry! Merlin's beard, are you alright?" Sirius demanded, "I swear, if I ever get my hands on that Skeeter woman- She better be damn lucky that my Azkaban days are behind me because- I swear, she's no bloody right to print that rubbish about you! 'A darker chapter'? 'Hidden agenda'? What the fuck-"

"I'm fine, Pads" Harry quickly interrupted, leaning back against the headboard, "I've dealt with worse, believe me".

"That doesn't make it any better!" he exclaimed, "If you want me to handle this, pup, then say the word and I'll have Rita bloody Skeeter in court faster than you can say the Daily Prophet!"

"And sue her for what? She didn't actually say anything outright defamatory, Padfoot! It's all hints and insinuations. If we tried to sue her or the Prophet, she'd just spin it into another story!"

"Not if I hex her quill hand off first" Sirius muttered darkly, though his expression softened somewhat.

Remus placed a calming hand on his partner's shoulder, though his eyes remained sharp. "Harry, I understand what you're saying, but Skeeter has painted a picture that could follow you for years. People will start seeing you as some sort of- of dangerous anomaly! She's planted seeds of doubt, and those are hard to uproot".

"I know" he replied quietly, "But making a fuss over it will just make things worse. Besides, it's not like she's entirely wrong about some things".

"Excuse me?" Sirius spluttered, "Did you even read the article?! What could she possibly be right about?!"

Harry shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "I am ambitious. And cunning when I need to be. Isn't that why I'm in Slytherin? It's not like she called me evil or anything. She just... implied it. And you know as well as I do this won't be the last article she writes about me either - at least this one isn't completely unflattering".

Sirius groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "You're taking this far too calmly, pup".

"He's taking it sensibly" Remus corrected, giving Harry a faint smile, "He's right; Skeeter thrives on reaction. Ignoring her is probably the best strategy, frustrating as it is. Though I do think we should be prepared for the... fallout".

"The fallout?" Harry echoed.

"The Ministry will likely seize on this as an opportunity. The article subtly ties you to Dumbledore, and with Umbridge at Hogwarts… well, it wouldn't surprise me if she starts keeping an even closer eye on you. Be careful about what you say and who you say it to".

"Great. Another thing to look forward to. Honestly, I already have the entire bloody school gawking at me like-" He cut himself off and ran a hand through his hair. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I had my first class with Umbridge yesterday and I, uh… might have… possibly… said some things?"

"Harry".

"She gave me detention".

"Harry".

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, a wide grin on his face. "You got detention? On your very first day?! Good Godric Gryffindor, pup! You really are a little Marauder, aren't you?"

"Sirius!" Remus said sharply, though his lips twitched as if fighting a smile, "This isn't funny. Pup, detention with Umbridge is no laughing matter. What happened?"

He sighed, deciding to leave out the exact wording of what was said, since Remus got enough abuse for being a werewolf on a daily basis as it was and if Sirius had heard what he'd said himself about the Dark Lord, then…

"It wasn't a big deal, alright? She just said some things, I said some things back, and she didn't like it. That's all".

"Harry, listen to me" Remus said firmly, "Umbridge is not someone you want to provoke. She's dangerous. She may seem like a Ministry lapdog, but that doesn't make her teeth any less vicious. You need to pick your battles wisely".

"I know, I know" Harry replied, exasperated, "But what was I supposed to do? Just sit there and let her badmouth everyone I care about? Let her spread lies about how dangerous Dark wizards supposedly are? I wasn't going to just… roll over and take it!"

"Spoken like a true Marauder" Sirius said, puffing out his chest proudly.

Remus shot him another withering look before returning his attention to Harry. "Standing up for what's right is important, pup, but so is surviving. If you keep drawing her attention, she'll find a way to make your life miserable, and it won't just be writing lines for detention. Promise me you'll try to keep your head down - at least when it comes to her".

"I'll try. But if she crosses the line again-"

Remus raised a hand to cut him off. "No 'buts.' Just promise me you'll think before you speak".

"... Fine. I promise I'll think before I speak" Harry said reluctantly, earning a satisfied nod from the man.

Sirius's grin widened. "But if you do get into more trouble, at least make sure it's worth it. Now, any chance I could bribe you to get yourself kicked out of Slytherin? Just for old times' sake? It truly is a travesty that this Marauder side of yours isn't in Gryffindor - the snakes are hardly going to nurture it, are they?"

"Don't encourage him!" Remus said sharply, though he couldn't quite hide the fondness in his voice, "He doesn't need to get into any more trouble, and you won't get into it, will you, pup?"

"I'll do my best" he replied dutifully, and Sirius, safely out of sight from his partner, gave him a mischievous wink.

"Take care of yourself, Harry" Remus said softly, "And if you need anything, then you know how to reach us".

"I will" he promised, "I'll talk to you soon".

As the mirror's surface went still, Harry leaned further back against the headboard, his heart feeling a little lighter despite the challenges ahead. For all the chaos in his life, at least he wasn't alone - and that made all the difference.