Wednesday, 6th September

Harry's third day at Hogwarts started dull and dreary. His hand was still stinging painfully, but when he examined it in the dim morning light, he saw that the cut had healed overnight - although his skin was still red and raw. At least he didn't have DADA again until tomorrow and he had double Arithmancy first thing today to look forward to!

He walked down to breakfast with Blaise, asking the boy a purposefully stupid question about Ancient Runes to keep him talking so that Harry didn't have to. Instead, he slathered strawberry jam on a slice of toast and did his best to stay awake.

The events of the past few days had started to catch up to him, and his late-night with Umbridge and Tracey hadn't helped. Tonight was his first Astronomy class too, which he was already dreading, both because it was his least favourite subject and also because it meant staying up past midnight again - the weekend couldn't come fast enough.

"Post's here" Theo commented, and Harry turned to look for Hedwig amongst the hundred owls that had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall. It had given him a bit of a shock the first morning he'd seen them, but he'd been glad to find Hedwig as happy and healthy as ever as she circled the tables until she saw him, swooping down to deliver the Daily Prophet and steal a bit of bacon.

She did the same today, and he absentmindedly scratched her head as he scanned the headlines just long enough to confirm that his own name wasn't printed in any of them, before folding up the newspaper and placing it to one side. He didn't have the brain capacity to properly read it all this morning, so he'd wait until he'd had his tea first before reopening it.

With a quiet chirp, Hedwig took off once more and Harry returned to his toast. He had only just about finished it when another owl swooped down and landed in front of him, dark and austere looking and completely unfamiliar to him.

"... Hello".

The bird tilted its head at him and blinked.

"Are you, uh… Are you sure you've got the right person?"

It gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look and held out its leg. Harry could see a small piece of paper tied to it, but when he reached forward to take the note, the owl hopped back and gave him a rather demanding expression.

"... Do you want a treat?"

It stared at him. Harry slowly, carefully held out a piece of bacon. The owl lunged forward with a flurry of feathers and snapped it from his hand before holding out its leg with the note once more, its dark beady eyes daring him to take it.

Harry did, albeit very very cautiously, expecting to get nipped any second. The fact that this monstrous bird had refused to give him the letter without being fed first had pinged something in the back of his mind - but it was only when he finally opened the incredibly brief note and read it that he realised why.

Evans,

Respectfully. What the fuck.

Rowle

Harry snorted and, finally putting two and two together, turned back to the owl. "So you must be Damocles".

He hooted in agreement and then skillfully stole a second piece of bacon from his plate.

"I've heard a lot about you" Harry continued, refolding the note and pocketing it, "And I've heard even more about your mistress - we don't want her to notice that you're missing, now do we?"

Damocles tilted his head to the side, and Harry smiled, picking up his last piece of bacon and holding it out for him to take.

"There won't be any reply today, so you can go".

He grabbed the bacon, swallowed it whole, then hooted once more and took off.

Pouring himself a much-needed cup of tea, Harry took a sip and then looked up, only to find his entire yearmates eyes on him.

"... What?"

"What do you mean what?!" Draco exploded, "What the hell was that?!"

"... An owl?" he replied, confused, "Have you had your coffee yet?"

"Okay, first of all" Blaise said before Malfoy could splutter out a response, "That looked more like a demon wearing an owl suit than anything else. Second of all, who in Merlin's name sent it to you?!"

"A friend" he replied evasively, "And he's not a demon - his name is Damocles".

"Who the bloody hell names their pet bird Damocles?!"

"My friend. Or, well, my friend's mother, I suppose. From what I've heard, she's a rather, uh… formidable figure".

"She named her bloody demon owl Damocles so of course she is!" Draco snapped, and Harry couldn't help but smile at his outrage. "He is a bit intense, but I think he has a certain… charm, don't you?"

"Charm?" Theo repeated, his tone incredulous, "That owl looked ready to peck your eyes out if you didn't offer it a tribute. What kind of person trains their owl to demand sacrifices?!"

"Formidable ones" he said lightly, smirking into his cup.

"That's putting it mildly" Blaise muttered, "You attract the strangest people, Potter".

"Don't I just?" Harry replied, not sounding the least bit sorry about it, "Anyway, we should probably start moving - class starts in fifteen minutes".

He groaned. "Ugh, not Divination! Is it too late to switch electives?"

"I thought you liked Divination" Malfoy said, frowning, "You always say it's an easy pass".

"But at what cost?" he countered, morosely, "Trewlaney's got us writing a dream diary for the next month! I mean, how many more ways can I imagine my stepfather dying?! I've already used all the good ones! And I still haven't started that moonstone essay for Snape!"

"And whose fault is that?" The blonde sniffed. "You won't have much time to do it tonight during Astronomy".

"Library for lunch?" Theo offered, "I've got to finish the questions McGonagall gave us before Transfiguration this afternoon".

"Library for lunch" Harry agreed, given that he still had both of those assignments to do too thanks to Umbridge and her detention. He was already falling behind on his homework and this was only day three!

Later that day, after Arithmancy, which was fast becoming one of his favourite subjects, and another double Herbology, which was decidedly not, Harry quickly dashed down the stairs of the dormitory with his half-written Potions essay now stored safely in his bag.

He'd left it on the desk in their room on Monday, fully intending on finishing it last night - but that had been before Umbridge had sunk her claws into him. The others were already waiting in the library for him, having scarfed down a quick lunch, and he knew that he'd have to get a move on if he wanted to get anything done before their Transfiguration class.

He was halfway across the Slytherin common room when he heard a loud, and rather obnoxious voice shout, "Expelliarmus!"

Harry was suddenly yanked around by the force of his wand flying out of his arm holster and into the awaiting grasp of a tall, mean-looking boy. He blinked, raised an eyebrow at him, and did his best to channel his inner Snape.

"Really?"

Someone across the room snorted but it was quickly muffled as the older boy shot them a dark look before turning his glare back to him instead.

"This has gone on long enough, Potter!"

"I've literally only been here three days".

"Shut up!" he snapped, pointing a wand at him, "How dare you sully the great name of this House! Harry bloody Potter in Slytherin?! It's a fucking joke! Prancing around the place, mocking us by using the Dark Lord's title, and-"

"Yeah, so, uh, sorry to interrupt your little macho speech, but I have a question" Harry said, "You seem to already know my name, and, I mean, hey, that's great, thanks for that, but, uh… who are you exactly?"

This time, more than one person laughed, and the boy's glare, if possible, intensified even further, his grip on the wand tightening as he scowled fiercely at those who dared to mock him.

"My name is Adrian Pucey" he bit out, "Seventh year".

"Oh, alright, cool… So is that name supposed to mean something to me or-?"

More laughter.

"Shut up!"

"Getting a little repetitive there, Pucey".

"I told you to shut up!" he snarled, taking long quick strides towards him, obviously going for the whole intimidation factor thing, but all Harry could see was Dudley, Greg, Lawrence - just another bully used to getting his way.

"You will respect me!"

Harry had dealt with more than enough of this type of person in the past - enough to know exactly what to say for them to back down and feel like they've won. But right now, he was exhausted and stressed and annoyed and pissed off and his hand was stinging like hellfire and the absolute last thing he felt like currently doing was making this spoiled brat feel good about himself.

So instead of retreating, he jutted his chin out in defiance. "Or what?"

Pucey's eyes darkened and his hand tightened around his wand and his mouth opened as he leaned back and- really, could he have broadcasted his intentions any more obviously?

"Flipendo!"

Harry neatly stepped out of the way of the oncoming curse. He heard it bang harmlessly against the wall behind him. Pucey looked dumbfounded.

"You- I- That was- How-"

"What, you ain't never played dodgeball before?" Harry asked mockingly, "Or- Oh, wait, hang on; was I supposed to make myself an easy target?"

His face was starting to turn a mottled shade of red, both out of indignation and embarrassment, and Harry could see most of the room grinning at him - everyone evidently deciding that this little interaction of theirs was worth skipping lunch for.

"Oh, I was, wasn't I? Okay, uh, so, how about I promise to just stand here this time and you can try and hit me with all you've got. Deal?"

"Diffendo!"

Harry sidestepped that one too - just not quick enough to miss the charm entirely, and he struggled to prevent himself from flinching as he felt the pale green spell slice open the edge of his hand, all the while quickly and silently casting a mild concealment charm to prevent anyone from noticing it. Pucey may have been weak and somewhat reckless, but if the rest of the House knew he'd drawn first blood then he'd still maintain a modicum of respect after Harry ended this.

"Fight back, you coward!"

"Oh, so I'm a coward now, am I?" he asked, widening his eyes, "News flash, Pucey, I wasn't the one who disarmed a fifteen-year-old when his back was turned and then started cursing him for no damn reason! The Hat put me here just like it put you".

Furious and embarrassed and no doubt starting to see the disparaging looks the rest of his House was giving him, Pucey almost frantically held Harry's wand out to him.

"A duel, then. Here, take it".

"Hmm… no".

"What?!" His eyes were wide, scared almost, and his voice was now a mere hiss. "What do you mean 'no'?! I said take it! Take it, damn you, before you make me look like a bloody fool!"

"Trust me, Pucey, you don't need my help for that".

"I told you to take it!" he snarled, louder this time, "Take your bloody wand so that we can duel!"

Harry allowed himself to grin, feral and sharp and not at all what they were expecting of him.

"Oh, but haven't you heard?" he taunted, raising his uninjured hand, "I don't need a wand to duel… Stupefy!"

He got one brief moment of satisfaction as fear and pure disbelief flashed across Pucey's face before the red spell hit him square in the chest, and he was thrown backwards, landing on the ground with a thud, unconscious.

The common room was silent.

"Accio my wand".

He caught the elder wood deftly and carefully returned it to his holster, wondering if perhaps there was a charm or ward he could place on it to stop this from happening again. Looking back up, he realised that everyone was still staring at him, some in awe, some fearful, while others - mostly fourth years and up - wore entirely blank expressions.

He sighed. "Well, that was a waste of time".

Turning, he clenched his hand into a fist as he started to feel the blood drip down it, planning to take a detour on his way back to the library, before suddenly pulling up short at the sight of yet another wand being pointed in his face - only this time, the boy holding it was shorter, stockier, and obviously quite younger.

Harry blinked.

"... Can I help you?"

The boy was scowling at him fiercely, but his hands were shaking even as he stabbed forward with his wand.

"You- Y-You're a fake! A- A liar! You're not a r-real Slytherin!"

"I'm not?" Harry made a big show of looking surprised. "Oh, wow, well, hey, thanks for telling me, kid. I'll be sure to go find the Gryffindor Tower now".

He turned to leave once more but again, the boy stopped him.

"A-Apologise! I demand that y-you a-apologise!"

Harry gave the rest of the room a side-eyed look, but they all appeared to be either too shocked or too amused to step in. He sighed again and turned back to the boy.

"Alrighty then. What's your name, kid?"

"What?!"

Apparently, he hadn't expected Harry to be civil.

"What's your name?" he repeated patiently, "You seem adamant on teaching me a lesson, as it were, but I've got other things to do today, so - what's your name?"

"... Baddock" he replied, brows furrowed in confusion, "Malcolm Baddock".

Harry flipped through the rolodex of names and titles in his head and when that didn't work, he tried to recall the Baddock family tree instead.

The boy in front of him was young, yes, but not much younger than he was; no more than two or three years at most. The fact he'd introduced himself last name first meant he expected his name to mean something to Harry, but as far as he knew, the Baddock's didn't have any peerage titles… but now that he thought about it, they had married into the Pucey line not that long ago.

"Family honour, huh?" he asked, gesturing at Pucey who still lay unconscious in the middle of the room, "You're, what, first cousins? Maybe second?"

"... First" he reluctantly admitted, "His father is my uncle".

"Family honour, then" Harry confirmed, "Alright, well, here's the thing, kid. I can respect that and I can even let you get a hex in if you want, but I really do have other things I need to get done today, so either use that wand or put it away. I could have disarmed you twenty times by now!"

Baddock licked his lips nervously and shuffled from one foot to the other. Backing down now would make him look weak, after all - but not half as weak as he'd look if he did try to take Harry on and inevitably lose. Younger or not, he wasn't going to pull his punches for anyone who wished him harm.

"You've done your part, kid" Harry said quietly, "Consider your familial obligation complete… But what chance do you really have if a seventh-year couldn't even land a single curse?"

After another silent tense moment of consideration, Baddock slowly nodded and even more slowly lowered his wand, as if expecting Harry to suddenly whip out his own and hex him now that he was off his guard.

"Smart choice" he said instead, turning back to the common room entrance, "And hey! Just for that - whenever Pucey wakes up? I'll tell him you got in a jinx or two. Later!"

Bypassing the stairs that would lead him up to the ground floor, Harry headed for the other end of the dungeons instead, finally coming to a stop outside an old wooden door that had Potions Master's Office written in silver letters across it.

He knocked.

Three seconds later, the door was flung open and a very unimpressed Severus Snape stood there, scowling at him.

"What?"

"Hello to you, sir" he greeted cheekily, "Any chance I could come in?"

"Why?"

He cancelled the concealment charm on his hand and held it up for the man to see, the blood now staining most of his tanned skin and starting to seep into the sleeve of his jumper too. He was oddly grateful that it was his left hand and not his right that had been injured - he could still keep the scratches from detention with Umbridge hidden.

Snape took a deep breath, briefly glanced up to the heavens as if asking for strength, and then yanked the door further open.

"In!" he snapped, "Now!"

Harry did as told, looking around curiously at the various jars and bottles that lined the shelves surrounding them. He could make anything with this amount of ingredients, and he wondered, briefly, if Severus moonlighted as a potions supplier in his spare time.

"Why aren't you at lunch? And why didn't you go straight to the infirmary?!" Snape demanded, shutting the door behind him.

"Because then I would've had to explain what happened to Madam Pomfrey and she would have told Dumbledore and Dumbledore would have told Sirius and he'd have insisted on coming here and-"

"Enough said".

Sometimes, that strange animosity between the professor and his godfather really worked out for Harry.

"Sit".

He sat. Pulling up another chair in front of him, Snape's dark eyes ran over the jagged wound as he quietly cast cleaning spells to remove the worst of the blood.

"I'm usually good enough at fixing my own mistakes" Harry said, feeling an odd need to explain himself, "But I've never fought anyone with magic before, so I only really have experience with basic healing spells. Episkey, and the like - nothing strong enough to heal this".

"Well hopefully, Potter, you don't plan on getting more injuries like this in the future" Snape drawled, "Diffendo?"

"Yeah". He winced as the man turned his hand which pulled at the wound. "There was a little… inner House conflict".

Snape's movements paused and Harry suddenly found himself pinned in place by a dark, endless gaze.

"Is this an inner House conflict that I should be made aware of?"

"No" he replied immediately and firmly, "It's dealt with".

After a moment of sizing him up, apparently making sure that he wasn't lying to him, the man nodded, once, and then turned his attention back to his still-bleeding hand.

"I was only caught by the bare edge of the spell" Harry explained, "I avoided the rest".

"Just as well, or I'd currently be ordering Filch to scrape what was left of you off the floor. As it is, you're lucky you didn't lose a finger. Hold still".

Pointing his wand at the far edge of the cut, he muttered a spell Harry had never heard before, and then slowly traced the wound. To the boy's amazement - and burning curiosity - the bleeding started to slow, before stopping entirely. Severus repeated the spell and wand movements again, and all traces of blood vanished from around the injury. And with a third and final incantation, the wound started to knit itself shut.

"This will only close it" Snape explained, standing up to retrieve something from the shelves, "It's the equivalent of muggle stitches if you like, but you'll have to apply dittany to avoid any scarring".

Turning, he held out a small brown-glass bottle.

"Two drops a day should do it. Return this once the scar is gone".

"Yes sir" Harry readily agreed, pocketing the bottle and staring in awe at the side of his hand which now had a neat silver scar running along it instead of a gaping bloody wound, "Can you teach me that spell?"

"No".

He blinked, surprised, and looked back up. Snape was standing in front of him, his arms folded across his chest, seeming as unimpressed with life as ever.

"What? Why not?"

"Because it is not a spell that you should know!" he snapped, "It's an advanced counter-curse that's borderline Dark enough to get you more a few looks. It's not even taught at Hogwarts and I do not want it leading back to me!"

"I won't tell anyone who I learned it from!" Harry exclaimed, "It just seems like an incredibly useful spell to know!"

"What part of 'borderline Dark counter-curse not taught at Hogwarts' do you not understand?"

"Uh, the 'borderline' part? Not that I give a damn if it's considered Dark Magic or not, but you're telling me that this is still technically not a Dark spell, so why can't I learn it?"

"Technically being the key word, brat! I am not teaching you. Now get out".

Harry glared right back at him, but it was clear that Snape wasn't going to change his mind. Alright then, he decided, if he won't play his hand then I'll just have to play mine.

"Diffendo!"

The silver scar on his hand split open and blood gushed to the floor.

"You- You- You stupid, foolish, idiotic, brainheaded, idiot of a child!" Severus yelled, rushing forward with his wand once more, but before he could reach him, Harry jerked up his uninjured hand and shouted, "Protego!"

Snape stopped a mere two feet in front of him, blocked from stepping any closer by an invisible shield - and he looked furious.

"I don't know what the hell you're playing at, Potter, but I want no part in it!" he hissed, but Harry refused to back down, and instead, held his wand over the wound on his hand in the same manner than he'd seen the professor do only a few minutes before.

"Teach me".

"No!"

"Tell me the spell!"

"I already told you, no!"

"Okay, well, if you don't teach me the spell then I'm just going to sit here until I bleed to death" Harry replied flippantly, "Have fun explaining that one to Dumbledore".

"Your shield will die before you will!" he shot back, glaring fiercely at him, "At which point I will levitate your useless, lifeless corpse to the infirmary and leave Madam Pomfrey to deal with you!"

"Like I said. Have fun explaining that one to Dumbledore".

They stared at each other, both refusing to give in, red blood barely audible dripping to the floor below.

"You won't always be around to save me, sir" Harry eventually said, quietly, "And you know better than anyone just how many people want me dead".

After another long, tense moment, Snape closed his eyes, took a long, deep inhale, gave a long, deep exhale, and then pinned him in place with his intense gaze once more.

"I will tell you the incantation once" he said tightly, "And if it does not work, if you do not succeed at casting it, then I will not cast it for you! I refuse to support such stupid, reckless, Gryffindorish behaviour, Potter, and if you fail at this, then I will leave you here to bleed… Is that clear?"

"Yes sir".

"Good. Now repeat after me. Vulnera Sanentur".

Harry did so and carefully hovered his wand just above the wound, tracing the air above it. The blood flow started to stem, but it didn't stop completely and he frowned, annoyed with himself.

"It's Vul-nehr-ah" Snape corrected, "Not Vul-neer-ah. Again".

He tried a second time, muttering the spell repeatedly until he got it right, and to his relief, the wound started to knit itself shut much in the same way it had when the professor had healed it. Waiting until he was certain that the injury was finally closed, he sat back in his chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. With a quick wave of his hand, he'd scrubbed the blood from the floor beneath him and then, and only then, did he let his shield charm drop.

He wondered if Severus was about to murder him.

Harry wouldn't put it past the man to try, and he definitely wouldn't put it past him to succeed, either, but it felt like a waste of magic to kill him mere seconds after healing him. Based on the look he was giving him right now, however…

"I have never, in my life, been so appalled by the actions of one of my own students" Snape said, his voice a mere whisper, "We are the House of self-preservation for a reason, Potter!"

"Yes sir".

"I have half a mind to go straight to Dumbledore and give him a memory of this event as the basis for grounds to expel you!"

"Yes sir".

"Or perhaps I should simply take away the dittany that I so generously lent you, and force you to look at that scar every single day as a reminder of what was truly a cataclysmic moment of stupidity, absurdity, and fatuousness!"

"Yes sir".

Oh, the big words were coming out now - he really must be fuming. Snape stared at him for another, long moment of eternity, his dark eyes boring into him like endless tunnels, before finally, finally, he took a step back.

"Get out".

"Yes sir!"

Harry quickly grabbed his bag and jumped to his feet, intending to race to the door before the man could change his mind. Yanking it open, he decided letting it slam shut behind him was the lesser of two evils, and he hightailed it out of there before Snape could-

"Oh, and Potter?"

Fuck.

Harry paused, holding his breath, already in the corridor and mere seconds from freedom.

"Ten points to Slytherin for an exemplary use of Protego".

He grinned and let the door close quietly behind him.

After yet another frustrating Transfiguration class, a pleasantly relaxing Care of Magical Creatures class, and a mind-numbingly dull Astronomy theory class, they had a brief reprieve for dinner before they'd have to head back to the tower for their Astronomy practical.

Harry entered the Great Hall flanked by Theo and Blaise, all three of them complaining about the lengthy list of homework they still had to get through. The Slytherin table glimmered with the night's feast - roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and an assortment of steaming vegetables. The trio made their way toward their usual seats, but Theo slowed slightly, his sharp eyes scanning the older students further down the table.

"Huh" he murmured, "I wonder what Pucey did…"

"Hmm?" Harry said, distracted, plucking a bread roll from a basket as he sat.

Theo tilted his head subtly toward the far end of the table where the seventh-years ate dinner. Adrian Pucey sat stiffly, several inches of empty space marking him apart from his usual companions. They weren't outright ignoring him, but their posture was standoffish, their voices subdued when apparently forced to address him. To anyone outside Slytherin, it probably appeared incidental - even to those inside Slytherin, Harry realised, given that only a handful of other students seemed to be giving the seventh years the same considering look as Theo was.

"That's odd" Blaise said, his eyes narrowed, "It looks like they've iced him out".

"Iced him out?" Harry asked, confused.

"They're giving him the cold shoulder" he clarified, reaching for the gravy, "He must have seriously fucked up if they're all ignoring him… and yet I haven't heard a thing…"

Theo nodded in agreement, but Harry stayed purposefully silent. He wasn't exactly concerned about Pucey's social standing, especially not after their earlier encounter, and he wasn't too keen on word getting out about what he did himself either.

Now that the haze of annoyance and anger had passed, he was starting to feel ever so slightly embarrassed. It had been stupid of him to cast wandlessly like that - everyone had heard what he'd said so there was no way he could pretend it was accidental magic like he'd done before. He should never have let his emotions get the better of him - he thought he'd outgrown that irritating trait years ago!

Thankfully, the conversation shifted to their upcoming Astronomy practical, and Harry let himself relax into the camaraderie. Dinner was almost halfway done before Malfoy strode in, his robes sweeping dramatically behind him and a rather… odd look on his face.

He walked to their table, sat down in his usual seat, and filled up his dinner plate without taking his eyes off Harry once.

He was immediately put on edge.

"Tell me, Lord Gloucesrter" Malfoy suddenly began, effectively silencing all other conversations around them, "Was there, perhaps, something that you forgot to tell us at lunch?"

He knew.

Harry swallowed his mouthful of potatoes, feigning confusion. "Forgotten? I don't think so. My essays are all done if that's what you're worried about".

Draco's lips quirked, but his grey eyes remained calculating as he leaned in closer.

"Well, that's funny, because I just heard the most fascinating tale about how a certain someone apparently wandlessly stupefied a seventh-year!"

Silence.

Their entire year was staring at him now, as were a few of the nearby other students, their expressions ranging from impressed to disbelieving.

Harry blinked innocently. "That sure is an interesting story, Lord Malfoy. Is this the part where I'm supposed to guess who it's about?"

Blaise choked on his pumpkin juice, quickly covering it with a cough. Theo smirked, putting both his fork and knife down so that he could focus solely on the exchange next to him. Parkinson, stuck in between him and Draco, merely huffed and folded her arms across her chest - evidently, she was in the disbelieving category.

"Don't play coy, Potter" Draco said, his voice gaining a touch of irritation, "I know it was a fifth year and I know it was a male student and I also know that at the time this incident occurred, you were the only fifth-year male student unaccounted for!"

"Was I?" he asked mildly, tearing a piece off of his bread roll, "My, what a coincidence".

Malfoy slammed his hand down on the table, gaining even more attention from those around them.

"I know it was you! What in Salazar's name were you thinking?! A fifth year, wandlessly taking down Pucey like that?! People are already talking!"

Harry merely shrugged. "Let them. You know, I'd have thought you'd be flattered by the idea that Slytherins in our year are clever and capable".

"So it was you?" Tracey asked, leaning across Blaise, "You took down Adrian Pucey without your wand?!"

"Well, in the interest of plausible deniability" he started carefully, "I shall neither confirm nor deny any such allegations but instead, simply say that if such a thing with a fifth year did happen, then I can only imagine that the seventh year in question had it coming".

Blaise gave him a wide-eyed look. "Who even are you?"

"And why bother using a wand at all if you don't need it?" Theo asked, his honey-brown eyes alight with curiosity, "Can you cast everything wandlessly?"

"I mean, not everything everything". Harry shifted in his seat awkwardly. "Just… you know… most of the spells that I do know".

"To which I reiterate my first question" he pressed, "Why bother using a wand at all if it's just a restraint for you?"

"It's not a restraint, it's… strategy".

"Strategy?" Malfoy asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "How is restricting your own abilities strategy?"

"Well, if you go all out in every duel, you show all your cards. Keep a few tricks up your sleeve, and you'll always have the upper hand".

Draco leaned back, looking at Harry with a mixture of approval and suspicion. "Hmm… Not bad".

Which, coming from him, was praise of the highest order.

"Cunning" Theo added, raising his glass in a mock salute, "And perhaps just a touch melodramatic".

"Very Malfoy of you" Blaise stage-whispered, receiving a vicious scowl from the blond in return.

"Say what you will" Draco continued, his voice clipped, "But this- this shift won't go unnoticed - even outside of Slytherin!"

Harry sighed and pushed his potatoes around his plate. "What shift, Malfoy? Pucey threw a tantrum and made a fool of himself. That's hardly newsworthy".

"Not just a fool" he countered, "A very public fool, and with first and second years now whispering about your supposed prowess, it won't take long for the news to spread".

"Oh, come on" Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair, "It wasn't even a proper duel! Pucey disarmed me when my back was turned like a coward, threw a few useless spells, and then I hit him with a Stunner after he practically begged me to!"

"You didn't just Stun him" Blaise corrected, his dark eyes gleaming, "You humiliated him. Without a wand. That's what they're going to be talking about".

He frowned, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. "It's not like I planned it".

"That's what makes it worse!" Draco all but whined, "For him, at least. You're turning the social hierarchy of the House on its head without even trying!"

"And there's his melodramatic side" Blaise commented brightly.

"Laugh all you want, but this is serious!" Malfoy snapped, "After your little wandless stunt, everyone is either scared of you, in awe of you, or plotting how to take you down".

"I don't want to be feared or- or bloody well admired!"

"Then you're in the wrong House" Blaise said dryly, taking another sip of pumpkin juice.

Theo shot them both a dark look. "Don't listen to them, Harry. This is hardly the worst thing that could've happened - if you play your cards right, it could actually work in your favour".

"I don't have any cards to play" he retorted, "I'm just trying to make it through the year without drawing too much attention!"

"Bit late for that" Tracey chimed in, "Are there any other mind-blowing secrets that we should know about?"

Yeah, he thought somewhat sarcastically, I can talk to your snake.

"I say you should own it" Blaise said, his expression turning sly, "If they're going to talk, then you might as well give them something worth talking about".

"Oh, yes" Draco said, rolling his eyes, "Let's just make the Boy Who Lived the hero of the Dark Lord's House. That won't go wrong at all!"

The group's banter was interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from the far end of the table. Pucey had apparently said something to his companions, but the laughter wasn't aimed at that - it was at him. The seventh-year looked livid, his face a dark shade of red as he slammed his goblet down and stormed out of the hall. The rest of the table fell quiet for a moment, and Harry couldn't help but wince. Even though Pucey had earned his humiliation, it didn't feel good watching someone become the centre of mockery.

"See?" Malofy said pointedly, gesturing after Pucey, "This is what I'm talking about. You don't just duel in Slytherin, Potter; you duel with grace. Otherwise, it comes back to haunt you".

Harry sighed and picked at his food, feeling the weight of the day's events settle over him again. "So what do I do now?"

"You wait" Theo said simply, "You wait, and you watch. See who approaches you, who avoids you, and who suddenly wants to be your best friend. It'll tell you far more about this House than anything else ever could".

"And" Blaise added with a grin, "if someone tries to pick a fight with you again, maybe use a wand next time? Just for show?"

"Very funny". Harry glowered, though he couldn't fight back a small smile. For better or worse, it seemed his life at Hogwarts was about to get even more complicated.

The rest of dinner passed without incident, but the energy around the table hummed with subtle tension. As they rose to leave, Draco caught Harry's arm briefly.

"Whatever game you're playing, Potter" he said, low enough that only Harry could hear, "Don't let it get out of hand".