Harry was getting dressed, as part of a deal he had with Dumbledore to even come to Hogwarts. The deal was that he could dress in a costume on weekends, and no one could say anything about it; the headmaster couldn't do anything about it anyway.

So Harry got dressed in a sleeveless, black, mechanic's shirt with red and gold trim and lettering, on the back was 'Death' in a red hooded cloak, with a red and gold scythe in one hand and a soul orb with the head of an English lion on it. The words, 'Sons of Gryffindor,' were surrounding it, black cargo pants, boots, and his robes.

Hermione had seen him come downstairs and was shocked at what he was wearing. "Good morning, Mione." He said he had his bag with him and was ready to start his day.

"Th-that outfit is against regulations!" She stammered.

"I know."

"Then why are you wearing it?"

"I have a deal with the Headmaster."

"What kind of deal?"

"I am a cosplayer. If he wants me here at Hogwarts and not at, say, Salem or Ilvermorny, he'd have to agree to my request. I get to dress in costume every weekend. As long as I wear the school uniform during the week, and the outfit has to have my house's colors."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You...you blackmailed Dumbledore?" she finally managed to get out, her voice a mixture of disbelief and grudging admiration.

Harry chuckled, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Not exactly blackmailed. More like...negotiated terms. He understood my needs." He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Besides, it's not against any rules. It's loophole abuse at its finest."

Ron, who'd just emerged from his drowsiness, blinked at Harry's attire. "Blimey, Harry! What in Merlin's name are you wearing?"

"My weekend cosplay outfit," Harry replied, with a shrug. "Death, Sons of Gryffindor edition."

Ron stared, still trying to process the information. "Death? With a lion's soul orb? And you get to wear that...at Hogwarts?"

"Yup," Harry said cheerfully, popping the 'p'. "Courtesy of Headmaster Dumbledore."

Hermione, ever the voice of reason (or at least, attempting to be), stepped forward. "Harry, are you sure this is wise? It's bound to attract attention, and not the good kind. Snape will have a field day!"

"Let him," Harry said dismissively. "Dumbledore can't do anything about it, so neither can Snape. Besides, I'm sure plenty of people will be intrigued. Think of the cosplay opportunities!"

He headed towards the Great Hall, leaving Hermione and Ron to exchange bewildered glances. Ron, ever pragmatic, simply shrugged. "Well, he looks pretty badass. I kind of want a Death, Sons of Gryffindor t-shirt now."

Hermione sighed. "This is going to be a long weekend."

As Harry entered the Great Hall, a hush fell over the room. All eyes were on him. Gasps, whispers, and a few snickers rippled through the student body. Draco Malfoy, predictably, sneered.

"Potter, trying to scare us now? Dressing up as death won't make you any less pathetic."

Harry merely smirked, ignoring Malfoy and heading straight for the Gryffindor table. He could feel Snape's burning glare from the staff table, but he refused to acknowledge it. He sat down next to Ginny, who was already giggling.

"That's quite the outfit, Harry," she said, amusement dancing in her eyes. "I especially like the scythe."

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning. "I made it myself. What do you think of the soul orb, with the lion?"

"Very Gryffindor," Ginny said approvingly. "Although I think you should have considered a full face of makeup."

The stares and whispers continued throughout breakfast, but Harry remained unfazed. He enjoyed the attention, even if some of it was negative. It was his weekend, his costume, and his deal with Dumbledore. He was finally free to express himself, even in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. He'd even overheard some of the Slytherin students offering money to take his photo. That was a good sign.

After breakfast, Harry made his way to the library. He had some research to do for his Arithmancy essay, but he was also hoping to find some books on advanced potion-making. Snape's constant disdain for his abilities had only fueled his desire to excel in the subject.

As he browsed the shelves, he noticed Luna Lovegood staring at him with her usual dreamy expression.

"Hello, Harry," she said, her voice soft and ethereal. "That's a very striking aura you're wearing today. It seems to be keeping the Nargles away."

Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn't question her. "Thanks, Luna. Glad it's working."

He continued his search for books, eventually finding a promising-looking tome on complex potion ingredients. As he turned to leave, he bumped into someone, sending a pile of books crashing to the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he said, bending down to help gather the scattered volumes.

He looked up to see Professor Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eye.

"No harm done, Harry," the headmaster said, with a kind smile. "I must say, your... ensemble is certainly causing quite a stir amongst the student body."

"Is that a problem, sir?" Harry asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Not at all, Harry. As we agreed, I have no objections to your weekend attire. I find it rather...refreshing." He paused, his eyes twinkling even more brightly. "Although, perhaps next weekend you could consider a costume that is a bit less...grim reaper-esque?"

Harry grinned. "No promises, sir. But I'll keep it in mind."

As Dumbledore walked away, Harry couldn't help but smile. He had a feeling this weekend was going to be very interesting indeed.