Harry's knees barely supported him as he started walking down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, keeping his head down and his gaze forward. Whispers were filling the hall, the eyes on him like a physical pressure against his skin. No one was applauding.
Dumbledore urged him through the same door the three champions had walked, into a small side chamber. The three looked up at him, confused.
"Cedric, I didn't do it," Harry blurted, speaking for the first time since his name emerged from the Goblet. "Please, you have to believe me — all of you. I didn't put my name in, I didn't do it."
Cedric's brow furrowed, but before he could ask for an explanation the door opened once more, and Ludo Bagman strode in, beaming. Cold dread entered Harry's heart when the man introduced him as the fourth Triwizard champion.
"I can't be!" he insisted. "I'm too young, I didn't put my name in!"
"But 'e is just a boy?" Fleur Delacour said, a puzzled look on her face. "Zis 'as to be some sort of joke, non?"
"No joke! Harry's name came out of the Goblet, he's magically bound to compete, just like the rest of you!" Bagman's voice was far too cheerful considering the circumstances.
There was a loud noise, and the door slammed open. All three heads of school entered, followed by Mr Crouch, as well as Professors McGonagall and Snape. Harry glanced at Snape with a helpless expression; the man's face was tight, and pale. Nobody looked happy, except Bagman.
Fleur immediately hurried to her headmistress, speaking in rapid French, and the tall woman surveyed the gathered crowd with contempt. "Dumbly-dorr," she said eventually, her voice icy. "Explain."
"I don't remember anything in the rules saying the host school is allowed two champions," Karkaroff agreed. Dumbledore had a look of mild concern on his face, but otherwise seemed quite unruffled. Harry glared at him; was this his fault?
The two heads of the foreign schools continued to question Dumbledore, furious that not only had a second Hogwarts champion been chose, but an underage one at that. Eventually, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet?" he asked, as if he was merely commenting on the weather. Harry glared at him.
"No, I didn't!"
"Obviously 'e is lying!"
"Did you ask an older student to put your name in for you?" Dumbledore continued, still in that frustratingly calm tone.
"No! I don't want this. I don't want to be part of the tournament!" Harry insisted. Surely there had to be a way out?
"Well, it's a bit late for that!" Bagman crowed, chuckling. "The Goblet of Fire is a binding magical contract! Pretty dire consequences for breaking it."
"But I didn't enter!" Harry argued. "How can I be bound in a contract I didn't consent to?"
"Headmaster, I really don't think we should be rewarding Potter's… theatrics by allowing him to compete," Snape sneered. If Harry didn't know better by now, he would've been raging at the man. Beside him, McGonagall was wringing her hands anxiously.
"I demand to be allowed to resubmit the names of my students!" Karkaroff said, Maxime nodding at his side.
The argument continued, Karkaroff threatening to leave, and things just went downhill when Moody entered the room. Even though he was saying all the things Harry was thinking — that someone was doing this to put him in danger, that it had to be someone powerful to fool the magic of the Goblet — it rankled to have the man be the only person outwardly on his side, speaking in such a way that it was immediately dismissed as the ramblings of a paranoid old auror.
When things came to a tense silence, everyone seeming to realise there was nothing they could do about it, Bagman clapped his hands together with a grin. "Right, shall we crack on, then? Champions," he announced, drawing the attention of the four teens. "The first task is designed to test your daring, so we're not going to be telling you what it is." Harry stared flatly at the man as he went on about courage in the face of the unknown — was he serious? They were just going to do the tournament? Was no one but Harry even slightly alarmed by the circumstances?
When they were given all the information necessary, Maxime and Karkaroff didn't stick around long, taking their champions with them. Dumbledore sent Harry and Cedric off, and soon Harry found himself in the Entrance Hall, walking alongside the Hufflepuff. He paused, looking up at the tall boy. "You believe me, right, Cedric? That I didn't put my name in?" Cedric looked somewhat conflicted, and Harry's heart sank. "Right, no, of course you don't. Why would you? Who wouldn't love to be in the Triwizard Tournament? As if I haven't had enough of life or death situations. As if Famous Harry Potter could possibly need more attention." His tone was bitter, and Cedric winced.
"I didn't say that! I just… it's all a bit mad, isn't it?"
Harry snorted. "Just a bit. Seriously, Cedric, even if I did manage to get my name in, how the hell would I have tricked the Goblet into picking a fourth person? I don't want to compete! I want you to be the Hogwarts champion, I was thrilled when you got announced! Please, just… I didn't do this. I don't want to compete against you, or anyone, but I'm stuck here. I just need you to believe me."
Cedric stared at him for a long moment, then his shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair. "I believe you."
Harry blinked, the words echoing in his head. "Really?"
"Really. You're clearly not happy about this, and I don't think you're that good a liar," the Hufflepuff added with a brief grin. "Besides, like Moody said; I reckon you have to really know what you're doing to mess with the Goblet like that."
Harry couldn't help himself; he wrapped his arms around the Hufflepuff's waist, relief flooding him. "Thank you," he breathed. That was one person — one student — who believed him. He let go, flushing. Cedric's cheeks were pink too. "I'm sorry about all this. You were supposed to be the one, and I came in and stole your thunder." Hufflepuff finally had a moment in the sun, and Harry had to ruin it all. Cedric shrugged.
"Not your fault," he dismissed. "And it's all for Hogwarts, eh?"
Lips pursed, Harry didn't respond. He doubted the rest of the school would see it that way.
They parted ways at the stairs, but Harry didn't go up to Gryffindor Tower. He wasn't ready to face that yet. Instead he went to the dungeons, only one destination in mind. A place he'd never been, but seen on the map enough times to find his way to. He knocked cautiously. The door opened, and dark eyes greeted him. "I thought you might show up."
Snape beckoned him into his quarters, and Harry barely got the chance to look around before he was wrapped in a tight hug. "Oh, cub!" It was Remus, his grip almost painful. "I came as soon as Severus told us. Merlin, Harry, what happened?"
"I don't know!" Harry said once Remus' grip loosened, looking up earnestly at the two adults. "I didn't put my name in! Dumbledore says I have to compete; it's a binding magical contract, apparently!"
"Unfortunately, he's right," Snape declared. "The Goblet of Fire is a very old, very powerful magical artefact. Once it selects you for the tournament, you must compete in each task unless you die or are disqualified, or risk losing your magic."
"How do I get disqualified?" Harry asked. Snape's face was grim.
"Previously, champions have been disqualified for trying to kill or severely injure another champion." Oh. Maybe not, then.
"So I'm screwed, is what you're saying?" Harry surmised. "Great. Whoever's trying to kill me is finally going to get their wish. Do you think it was Dumbledore? He didn't look all that put out by it all. And he's certainly powerful enough."
"I think the headmaster has other plans for you, and he wouldn't risk them on something like this," Remus said gently. "I think this came from… the other side of the board."
Voldemort, then. Fantastic. Harry felt his hands begin to shake, the shock setting in, and within moments he was being led to a chair and handed a mug of hot chocolate. "Breathe, cub," Remus murmured, his hand solid on Harry's shoulder. "Just breathe."
"I can't do this!" Harry said, his voice strangled. "I'm fourteen! I don't know nearly as many spells as the others, and sheer dumb luck will only get me so far! I'm going to die in this sodding tournament!"
"You will not die." The words came in a firm hiss, and Harry's head snapped up, meeting Snape's near-black eyes. "You're not an idiot, Potter. You're a darn sight more powerful than you give yourself credit for, and after teaching you this summer I have every faith in your ability to survive this tournament. You will have help wherever you should need it — surely you didn't expect us to just throw you to the wolves?"
Harry blinked. Snape took a step back, looking a little surprised by his own outburst. By his side, Remus smiled. "Severus is right, Harry. You're a talented young man, and we'll do whatever we can to make sure you get through this in one piece. Now, why don't you head up to bed? I daresay after all this excitement you could use the rest."
Now that the shock was fading, Harry was pretty exhausted. He gulped down the hot chocolate, feeling the sugar rush through him. "Okay," he said eventually, once his pulse had returned to normal. "It'll be fine. Everything is fine." He looked up at the two adults. "You really think I can do this?" The tournament was supposed to challenge even the of-age wizards. How could Harry compare?
"Absolutely," Remus assured. "You don't have to win. You just have to finish." He took Harry's empty mug, setting it on the coffee table. "Now go on, up to the dorms with you. Call Sirius when you get there, would you? He wanted to come with me, but we didn't want to risk it."
Harry got to his feet, eagerly accepting one last hug from the werewolf. "Thank you," he murmured. "Both of you." He glanced up to Snape. "I'm sorry to barge in. I just… I needed…" He trailed off, the words not quite making it to his throat. He needed reassurance, and he had come to Snape, regardless of whether Remus had been there or not. What was the world coming to?
To his surprise, Snape put a hand on his shoulder, just for a second. "I told you to come here if there was an emergency," he reminded. "I rather think this qualifies."
Harry offered the man a tentative smile, which didn't last long when he geared himself up to head to Gryffindor. Time to face the music.
.-.-.
To his surprise, Gryffindor Tower was in the middle of a party when he arrived, and he was immediately dragged into the middle of it. "Brilliant, Harry!" Katie Bell cheered.
"If it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor!" Angelina enthused. Harry was congratulated and slapped on the back by people he barely even knew, the common room full of cheering and applause. Harry tried to insist he hadn't put his name in, but no one wanted to listen.
A hand wrapped around his shoulder, and Harry fought it as it yanked him backwards, only to find himself looking up at a familiar freckled face. "Alright, Harry?" Fred asked, brows furrowed in concern. He'd pulled Harry up into the dormitory stairwell, and George was leaning against the wall opposite.
"I didn't do it," Harry insisted. "I don't want this!"
"We know," the twins said, and Harry faltered. George grinned at him.
"You were pretty vocal about not wanting it, mate," he pointed out.
"And if you'd figured it out, you would've told us," Fred agreed.
"The question is, whodunnit?" George's words made Harry grimace.
"Moody thinks whoever did it is trying to get me killed. I'd say he's pretty on the money there."
Both twins shared a grim look. "Well, you'll show 'em, won't you, Harry?" Fred said, clapping him on the shoulders.
"Yeah, if anyone can do it, it's you!" George grinned, brown eyes bright. "Give Diggory a run for his money, won't you?"
Harry appreciated their optimism, but he didn't want to compete against Cedric. Really all he wanted right now was to go to bed. He said as much, and George ruffled his hair. "We'll get this winding down, don't worry. You'd better scarper quick, though," he added, glancing over Harry's shoulder. "Creevey brothers, incoming."
Harry winced. "Thanks, guys." He squeezed past them and hurried up the stairs, ducking into his dormitory with a relieved sigh. To his surprise, he wasn't the only one in there. Ron was lying on his bed, an odd expression on his face when he looked up at Harry.
"There you are," he said. "Congratulations, I guess."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked warily, though he could already see where the conversation was going. His stomach churned.
"You figured it out. Got your name in the Goblet. You could've at least told me, we could've both entered."
"I didn't put my name in, Ron," Harry insisted, tiredness creeping into his voice, making him sound snappish. God, he just wanted to go to sleep. "Someone else must have done it."
"Yeah, right," Ron said, still with that awkward smile-grimace on his face. "You can tell me the truth, y'know. You were gone all morning, did it take you a while to figure it out?"
"I told you, I was in the Owlery this morning! I don't know how my name got in the Goblet, but I don't want this, Ron!" Harry was getting angry, now, and so was the redhead.
"I'm not stupid!" he argued. "All that talk about not wanting it, that was just to throw us off, wasn't it? I guess even you can't resist a thousand galleons of prize money."
"Is that really what you think of me?" Harry asked. "That I'd put myself in this much danger for money? And lie about it?"
"Well what else am I supposed to think?" Ron retorted hotly.
"You're supposed to trust me!" Harry grabbed his pyjamas, throwing them onto his mattress. "But there's not been much of that, lately, has there? I'm going to bed."
"Right, sure — got to get your beauty sleep," Ron taunted. "Probably got a photo call in the morning, or something."
Harry gave the redhead one last glare, then climbed onto bed and dragged his curtains shut forcefully, putting up his privacy wards. Safe in the silencing bubble, he let out a frustrated scream. Ron was infuriating!
Though, he supposed, he couldn't exactly get at the boy for not trusting Harry. It wasn't like Harry had done that in return, after all. Even if it was things like this that proved why.
Not bothering with his pyjamas just yet, Harry dug the two-way mirror our of his bag, leaning back against his headboard to talk to Sirius. When the man's face appeared, the concern in those grey eyes made a lump rise in Harry's throat. "Oh, pup," he murmured softly, knowing. Harry swallowed back a sob. How had things gone wrong so quickly? "Pup, it's okay," Sirius soothed. "You're going to be fine. I love you. It's okay."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. He wished he could believe that.
.-.-.-.
After Harry left, Severus and Remus sat in silence, staring into their mugs of tea. "Could it be Karkaroff?" Remus suggested. Severus shook his head.
"Too obvious. He'll know he's being watched." Severus ran a hand through his hair, and Remus' heart ached. His cub was in danger, and he just had to sit back and let it all happen!
"Are we sure this isn't some plot of Dumbledore's?" he asked doubtfully. The headmaster had proven he was happy to risk Harry's safety in the past. "Some kind of test of Harry's skills?"
"I don't think he did it, but he's certainly willing to sit back and let it happen," Severus said. "He looked quite pleased about it, actually. Which is why I think it's the Dark Lord's doing — Dumbledore wants him to return before Harry is seventeen, that much is clear. If this is the first step towards that, he's not going to stop it."
Remus couldn't stop the growl that emerged at that. The thought of Harry being used as some pawn in Dumbledore's awful schemes made him sick to his stomach. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. A look of annoyance flashed across Severus' face.
"What now?" he grumbled, getting to his feet. Remus stayed carefully out of sight, ready to duck into the bedroom should it be someone who wasn't supposed to know he was there. To his surprise, it was Draco Malfoy. "Uncle Severus," the boy breathed desperately.
Severus ushered his godson into the room, shutting the door. "What's the matter?" he asked, concern in his dark eyes. "Is something wrong?"
"Someone's trying to kill Harry, aren't they?" Draco said, his already pale face near-transparent with fear. "Getting him involved in this bloody tournament. Is it my father's fault? Is this what he's been planning all summer? I should've tried harder to listen in— I could have stopped this!"
Severus brought Draco into a firm hug; probably the only person other than Remus he'd willingly show such affection to. "Draco," he murmured, one hand on the boy's hair. "This is not your fault. I doubt it's your father, either — Lucius is far too much of a braggart to have planned something like this without getting me involved." Remus stifled a snort. "Whoever put Harry's name in the Goblet is likely out to harm him, yes. But it's nothing you could have prevented." He released Draco to look him in the eye. "Draco, you must be careful. If there are Death Eaters in the castle that we don't know about, they could be watching you. It wouldn't do for someone to go to your father with word of your… change in loyalties." If possible, Draco got even paler, but he clenched his jaw and nodded tightly. "I'll be discreet," he promised. "I— you'll tell me if you learn anything, won't you? About Harry?"
"Potter's circumstances are not yours to worry about," Severus pointed out, his voice surprisingly gentle. "All you need to do is support him, and keep yourself safe. No one can know how you feel about him."
That finally brought some colour to the young Malfoy's face, his cheeks turning pink. "Uncle Severus, I—" Draco sighed. "I suppose." He looked up, his eyes finally landing on Remus, and his shoulders tensed as he realised the Gryffindor had witnessed everything. "Professor Lupin, I…"
"I'm not your professor anymore, Draco," Remus said warmly. "I told you in the summer, you're welcome to call me Remus. Don't mind me here, I didn't want to interrupt. But I am glad Harry has you to look out for him." He gave the boy a knowing look, and Draco's blush rose higher.
"Well, the idiot Gryffindor isn't very good at looking out for himself, is he?" he muttered. He took a step back, reaching half-heartedly towards the door. "I should go to bed. I'm sorry for disturbing your evening."
"Nonsense," Remus waved him off. "Severus is your godfather, you have every right to come to him. If you need some privacy…"
Draco shook his head. "It's almost curfew, I really should go." What little vulnerability the boy had dared show his godfather was locked up tight at the presence of a near-stranger. It made Remus' chest ache, but he didn't blame the boy. "Be careful, Draco," Severus warned again, squeezing the boy's shoulder. Draco nodded, hurrying from the room, and they were alone once more.
Remus crossed the room, laying gentle hands on Severus' shoulders, his chest pressing to the Slytherin's back. "Look at you," he murmured with amusement, lips dragging across the man's jaw. "Two teenagers in one night coming to you for comfort. One of them a Gryffindor, even." He grinned impishly. "You've gone soft, Severus."
The Slytherin growled, turning sharply to pin Remus with a glare. "I have not," he insisted. Remus chuckled.
"It's okay to admit it," he teased, a hand sliding down Severus' lapel. "You can glare all you want, but I know the truth. I know there's something here." He gave a gentle pat to the man's ribs, right over his heart. "I've been rather selfish with it all these years, but I suppose I can learn to share." Honestly, seeing Harry start to warm to Severus, seeing the Slytherin let down his barriers in turn — Remus had never been more in love with him in his life. For the first time, it felt like he could truly have this. All of it. All the best parts of his life, together.
Suddenly, Severus' arm snaked around his waist, pulling him in close. Severus' breath was hot on his neck, sending a thrill down Remus' spine. "I assure you, wolf," he murmured, in that dangerously sexy drawl. "Despite what those foolish teenagers may believe, despite what you think — the last thing I am is soft." His thigh slipped between Remus', making the Gryffindor aware of a rather large bulge in his trousers. Remus smirked.
"Hmm, I suppose you're not, are you?" he agreed, allowing Severus to push him towards the bedroom door, his blood running hot through his veins. In the morning, they'd have to deal with the oncoming shitstorm that was the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry's unexpected involvement in it. But the morning was a long way off.
.-.-.-.
There was a heavy knot of anxiety in Harry's stomach when he woke up on Sunday morning, and it took him a minute to remember why. The events of the evening before came rushing back to him, and he pulled his duvet up over his head with a groan. What if he just didn't get up? Ever? They couldn't make him compete if they couldn't get him out of bed.
Sadly, he knew better. A quick Tempus charm showed him it was well into breakfast time, and he grimaced. He had no hope of avoiding everyone at this time of day.
He was the only one in the dorm when he drew his curtains back, and he was glad for the silence as he got dressed. He wasn't ready for another argument with Ron, yet.
Unfortunately, once he got down to the common room he was greeted by another round of raucous applause. The thought of going to the Great Hall and dealing with the people down there sounded like hell, but he needed to eat, and he couldn't stay in Gryffindor Tower when it was like this. He could already see the Creevey brothers on their way over. Maybe he could sneak into the kitchens for breakfast; he'd seen it on the Marauder's Map.
The decision was taken out of his hands, however, when he stepped out of the portrait hole to be greeted by Neville Longbottom's smiling face — and a sausage sandwich wrapped in a napkin, which was quickly shoved his way. "Brought you this," Neville said by way of greeting. "Figured you wouldn't fancy going down to breakfast."
"Neville, you're a godsend," Harry declared, accepting the sandwich graciously. "Is it bad down there?"
Neville winced. "It's… not great." That admission meant it was likely terrible, and Harry cursed. It would be second year all over again, only instead of thinking he was out to kill them, half the school merely thought he was trying to steal the limelight and break the rules. Fantastic. "Want to go for a walk?" Neville offered. Harry nodded; anything to avoid the crowds of people.
Harry didn't have his cloak, but he did have his Silverling's jacket on, so the pair of them headed down to the Entrance Hall and out to the grounds. Everyone they passed stared at Harry, and whispers followed in his wake. It was awful.
"Of course I knew you didn't do it," Neville said with a roll of his eyes, when Harry asked if the round-faced boy believed him. "You hate attention. Ron's still being an idiot about it, though — I don't think he really believes you did it, but he's jealous all the same." The taller Gryffindor snorted. "If he was going to have an issue with being sidelined, he shouldn't have befriended the Boy-Who-Lived," he added in a mutter. "Maybe he thought being friends with you would get him some glory of his own."
The offhand remark reminded Harry suddenly of the letter from Gorrak, and the revelation about Mrs Weasley. Some glory of his own… The pieces were coming together, and Harry didn't like the picture they were making.
He glanced around. They were by the lake, not far from where Harry had sat with Draco the day before, and there was no one around. "Neville," he said slowly. "I know I've asked you to keep a lot of secrets for me so far. But there's a few more I haven't told you yet. Can we— would you sit down with me for a bit?" He gestured to the tree he'd sat by yesterday. Neville's face was serious.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Harry," he said. "It's okay." Harry shook his head.
"No, I want to. I trust you." He did — Neville had proven himself a solid friend in the last year, and Harry hated to think there were things Ron and Hermione knew that he didn't. Besides, maybe the other boy could help him make sense of it all. He needed people on his side.
The two of them settled down at the base of the tree, facing each other, and Harry put up the strongest privacy wards he knew. Only then did he tell Neville everything — about Sirius and Remus, everything that had happened the year before and over the summer, right up to the letter from Gorrak. Neville listened patiently, his face going through a myriad of emotions. The only thing Harry didn't tell him was the truth about Snape's relationship with Remus, and his status as a Death Eater spy; some secrets weren't his to share.
"Blimey," he said when Harry finally finished. "I thought it was bad when you told me about the magic block. You have been busy, haven't you?" Harry snorted.
"Just a bit, yeah," he agreed. "So you see where I'm at. I need to start getting things together — I can't just sit around and wait until Dumbledore reveals his plan. I can't let him get away with stealing my money andmy magic. I have to be ready to reveal it on my own terms."
"Well however me and Gran can help, we'd be happy to," Neville assured without hesitation. Harry's shoulders slumped in relief. "I figured you weren't at your muggle relatives this summer, from some of the things you said in your letters. But… I'm glad you've got somewhere to go that's safe, where you're happy." Harry raised an eyebrow at him, and Neville's gaze grew pointed. "I've seen the bruises, Harry, and the scars. And I can tell from the way you talk about them. Those muggles aren't good people."
Harry grimaced; he hadn't realised Neville had seen so much. The boy was more observant than anyone gave him credit for. "All that doesn't matter, now," he dismissed, not wanting to get into it about the Dursleys. "I won't have to stay with them for more than a day or so, hopefully."
"That's good," Neville agreed. He grew pensive for a moment. "This is serious, isn't it, Harry? Like, world-changing serious."
"Yeah, you could say that." Harry bit his lip. "Look, Nev, if you want to stay out of it, I completely understand. Being around me is always a bit chaotic, but things are only going to get worse."
"Shut up, Harry." The force in Neville's voice made Harry blink, taken-aback. "I might not be the bravest Gryffindor around, but you're my friend, and what's happening to you isn't right. Dumbledore— he can't be allowed to just keep doing whatever he wants and manipulating people for the Greater Good. I've been thinking about it ever since you told me what he did last year. I can't promise to be much help, but I'm in this with you, whether you like it or not."
Harry had never seen Neville so firm about anything — he was starting to see what the Sorting Hat had in mind when he put Neville in the house of lions. "Okay, then," he said eventually. "That's— yeah. Thanks, Nev." Neville was blushing now, and Harry smiled. "You've already been loads of help. I wouldn't have learned Occlumency without you, and your gran. I was going to write to her, actually — when I make my move, when it all comes out, I'll need to change my Wizengamot proxy. If we can't get Sirius' name cleared… d'you… would she be willing?" He couldn't take the Slytherin seat from Dumbledore's hands, but he could take the other three.
"She'd be honoured, Harry," Neville assured. Harry grinned; that was one load off his mind. It wouldn't happen for a while yet, but it was good to know he had something in place.
"Good. And—" he paused, hesitant. "I've been thinking about telling the other heirs the truth. About Dumbledore, and even Sirius. If I can get them on my side, it'll be easier to get him out of power when— when I need to." It made him a little queasy, the thought of actively conspiring against the headmaster, but it would need to happen eventually. The wizarding world couldn't be brought forward with Albus Dumbledore holding it back. "I just don't know if I can trust all of them."
"Well, no one's said anything about you being an heir yet," Neville pointed out. "None of them trust Dumbledore. I think they'd be willing to listen to you, if you wanted to tell them. They're good people."
Harry realised that Neville must have known most of them for far longer than Hogwarts; they probably played together as children. Grew up together. If Neville said they were trustworthy, he believed him. "Oh, and there's one more thing," he added, bracing himself for perhaps the most volatile secret of all. Neville's brows drew together warily. "Y'know last year I said Draco Malfoy wasn't as bad as we thought he was? I'm sort of— friends with him, now?" In all his story he hadn't said a word about Draco, but it didn't seem fair to be trusting Neville with so much but not that.
Neville stared at him. "That's it, right? No more secrets after that?" he checked. Harry ran over things in his mind.
"No, no, don't think so. That's the last one." Well, there was the slight maybe-crush he'd developed on the blond Slytherin, but Neville didn't need to know about that. He'd warm him up to the idea of Draco being his friend first.
"Okay," Neville said eventually. "If you're friends with him, he can't be as bad as he seems."
"Really? Just like that?" Harry had expected some sort of argument, at least. Neville shrugged.
"I thought Cassius was kind of a prat before I started talking to him, but he's actually alright. Even if he is crap at Herbology. If you say Malfoy's not a prat, then I believe you."
"Oh, no, he's definitely still a prat," Harry assured with a laugh. "But… a good one?" He felt his cheeks turning red, and hoped Neville didn't notice.
"Well, you're a bit of a prat sometimes, too, so I s'pose it all balances out," Neville said with a teasing grin. Harry made a noise of offence. "You went after a basilisk, knowing it was a basilisk, with nothing but your wand at the age of twelve! You spent all of last year wandering about at night when there was a murderer out there who wanted to kill you!" Neville pointed out. "Hell, you followed Quirrell down to the Philosopher's stone in first year without a second of hesitation!"
Harry was beginning to regret having told Neville the truth about his first two years at Hogwarts over the summer. "Okay, yeah, but in my defence I was under a Compulsion charm for the first two years," he pointed out.
"And what's your excuse for last year?" Neville asked, lips curled up at the edges. Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"I'm a prat?" he admitted eventually, shrugging apologetically. "I don't know what you want me to say, Nev — we both know I'd be lying if I said I won't do it again."
Neville laughed, shaking his head. "As long as you're aware of your faults," he said magnanimously. He glanced at Harry in consideration. "I take it Ron and Hermione don't know about any of this?"
"They know Sirius is innocent. They were there for that bit," Harry told him. "But they don't know about Seren Du, or about Dumbledore. Or Draco. I, uh, wasn't planning on telling them. Not until I can be sure."
"If Ron's mum is on Dumbledore's side, they might be as well," Neville realised softly. Harry nodded.
"I always thought it was a bit weird how right as I got to the platform, a wizarding family appears and just starts talking really loudly about muggles," he admitted. It all felt a little too coincidental, the way the Weasleys had been there to help him, and Ron had been the first friend he met on the train. Even with Hermione and the troll, though he knew Quirrell had been the one to let it into the school, how had she been the only one in danger? He didn't like to believe it, but now he knew how manipulative Dumbledore could be, he wouldn't put it past the man. Ron and Hermione were the perfect best friends to keep him oblivious. To keep him in check.
"You deserve better than Ron, anyway," Neville said with a huff. "He's always been jealous of you. You don't even realise when you're holding yourself back for his sake. Like all those new clothes you got that you hardly ever wear. Your trunk's full of them, but you're still in the same five shirts that are way too big."
"You really have been paying attention, haven't you?" Harry mused, watching Neville blush bashfully. "Do you know how Hermione's taking the whole champion thing, by the way?" Harry hadn't seen her since the Halloween feast.
"She was telling a couple of third years last night that you didn't put your name in by yourself," Neville told him. "But she's not stupid, of course she can see that. That…"
"That doesn't mean she isn't one of Dumbledore's," Harry finished for him. He sighed, looking out across the lake. "I guess I'll stick with it and see. Ron's not talking to me, which is fine, but if I start pushing her away I'll let Dumbledore in on my plans a little earlier than expected. Besides, maybe she's trustworthy. I don't know yet."
"Maybe," Neville agreed.
Harry knew they had to go back inside, he had to face the crowd eventually. But his head was spinning with all the information he'd given Neville, all the new information he'd gained from that.
So much for a quiet, normal year.