"Weasley was the one who started it, you know." Blaise hummed lightly as he stirred their caldron with careful, rhythmic motions. He hadn't said anything but had seemed insanely amused when Harry had chosen to sit next to him in potions the next day and let Draco work solo at the desk in front of them.
Draco was clearly Snape's favorite and Blaise was still the untouchable-Slytherin so the wide smile on the Zabini's face prevented the potions master from commenting, but instead snapped at them to get started and entertained himself the rest of the double-period by harassing the teams on the other side of the room and slowly chipping away at Gryffindor's points. Draco was, annoyingly enough, fantastic at potions and without a partner to slow him down had finished in the first hour and been excused without so much as a glance behind him at either house eyeing his back curiously.
Their whole year level had seen Harry lose it on him and Ron and were now curious to see how it would affect their friendship, the gossips whores that they were. Ron had been avoiding him like the plague which Harry was 100% fine with, but Draco seemed hell-bent on pretending nothing was wrong.
Except for the fact where he wouldn't look at anyone anymore and just pretended he was alone in the world.
Maybe he was just taking after Nott's lead, really.
"I frankly don't care who started it." Harry replied in the same feigning polite tone Blaise had, and the tall Slytherin smirked down at him as he checked their potion's consistency.
"So all are guilty by association?"
"I didn't see you on a broom, now did I?" He challenged, and Blaise nodded slowly at that.
"But he was doing it to defend one of your friends. I figured that was a Gryffindor-ish thing you might appreciate."
"May I remind you that the hat had to seriously think about if it wanted me in Gryffindor or Slytherin—just because I ended up in Gryffindor doesn't mean I'm entirely thrilled with every character trait of the place. And Draco is my friend because he is in Slytherin for quaffle's sake; him going rouge Gryffindor on me is just annoying. I get enough of that from my own house, thanks. I have to live with Ron, remember?"
Blaise grimaced delicately. "Right… my condolences." He tiled his head then as he went about crushing up some beetle shells Harry handed to him. "It seems to me the two of you are terrible influences on each other. You become infinitely more devious when hanging around us too often, and now Draco being all brave and brash out of nowhere. It's probably your own fault." He pointed out.
Harry could only groan lowly as he took over stirring the cauldron, this time carefully in the opposite direction.
"I don't necessarily think breaking out of your house stereotype is a bad thing… there's something to be said for being loyal, brave, clever, and wise. None of those are terrible things at all. It's the other end of the spectrum… the gullible, stupid, cold, and prejudiced side of the house aspects that get us all in trouble, and then to have this rivalry that turns what should be two houses with compatible traits and reduces us all down into either dunderheads or assholes. Or worse: both."
Blaise snorted under his breath as he sliced up their final ingredient with an eerie precision implying he was more familiar with a knife than most eleven-year-olds. "What exactly do you want of Draco in this situation? You seem content to just ignore him but you two were fully ready to be friends despite all odds until yesterday, and honestly he was in the right against Weasley so this kind of seems like a stupid thing to give up on him for."
And he was right of course, and Harry would've asked why Blaise seemed to be taking his side rather than Draco's… or why he was content to play both sides at the moment, but he couldn't be bothered to be paranoid about the untouchable-Slytherin's goals right now.
Harry didn't answer until Blaise finished his step and added the last ingredient, waiting until their potion was the perfect color if not slightly too thick a consistency before turning off the heat and bottling it quickly to hand in. With their bottles set aside and them writing their names to label them, he sighed heavily.
"I'm just tired of hate." He finally admitted, Blaise pausing to look at him curiously. "I am so, so tired of hate. Who was right, who was wrong… it doesn't matter if Neville's only gift from his grandmother ended up in pieces. Neither Ron nor Draco would be held truly responsible for the actual consequence of what they were fighting over: Neville would. And Neville's never done anything to either of them, but they'd have made him suffer over their fighting regardless. Ron was an arse and Draco acted like a child, but at in the end Neville would've paid the price for both of their actions and no one seems to consider or care about how others suffer for their choices."
"To be honest, no one seems to consider Longbottom at all." Blaise chimed in unhelpfully, grinning at the glower Harry shot him for that. "But what exactly do you want from the two of them then? What's done is done—just a promise it won't happen again?"
"Oh, it definitely will." Harry sighed, picking up his bag to put his books back, causing Blaise some surprise.
"You think they're a lost cause?"
"No, but the two of them are paying the price for someone else's actions like we all are. Suffering because someone somewhen decided Slytherin and Gryffindor needed to hate each other." Frustrated, zipped his bag tight and needed to take a deep breath. "I am so sick and tired of hate. I will defend my friends to the death but I can't defend someone from their own hate, and I honestly do not have the energy anymore to even try. Draco was supposed to me more Slytherin that this—letting stupid emotions and prejudices get in the way of the actual goal here." He met Blaise's curious gaze with an iron look of his own. "I'll forgive him when he remembers he's supposed to be a Slytherin and gets his act together to actually act like one."
Blaise smiled at that, reminding Harry a lot of that wolf Draco had once compared him to.
"You're my favorite Gryffindor, you know that?" He hummed.
Harry smiled politely as he slung his bag over his shoulder and took his potion to hand in. "While Draco is being a snitch, you're my second favorite Slytherin."
"Wait, whose you're favorite?" He demanded immediately. Harry just grinned as he placed his potion on Snape's desk and headed for the door, stopping by the table behind them to wave enthusiastically at Nott—who'd clearly been eavesdropping and looking 100% done with all of them.
"Bye Nott, have a great weekend okay?" He purred in the friendliest voice he could muster. The glare he got in return was almost as enjoyable as the indignant cry of rage from Blaise behind him as he made his hasty exit.
000
September seemed to go quickly after that, and while the stress of worrying about Draco's short temper and how he was being treated within his house was replaced with the more intense worry of if he was ever going to talk to Draco again at all, life continued on like it usually did, regardless of Harry's opinion on the matter.
The biggest change in his life was quidditch. McGonagall proved once and for all that she had absolutely lost her marbles by buying him a wicked awesome broom that Harry absolutely never wanted to get off of every time he took to the sky on it, and suddenly a lot of his schedule was filled with quidditch practice with an actual team, which Harry was very happy to find that George and Fred were players on as well. Having them there for his first team practice (Wood—another quidditch fanatic of slightly insane levels—having spent a lot of one-on-one time with him bringing him up to speed on the rules and Gryffindor's tactics already) was a surprising blessing as some of the girls had given him a side-eye for the neon pink shorts he'd chosen for the hot September night.
Any question on his outfit choices was derailed when the twins had dropped to their knees and cried in dramatic fear that that was his 'ass kicking' outfit and they were all in for it now. It had sparked enough laughter and was so weird that the color of his shorts seemed secondary to surviving he intense training regime Wood had whipped up on the spot to get them to stop goofing off.
Wood wouldn't care if he himself were wearing a tutu so long as they won their next game, and it didn't take long until that was the general atmosphere of the team too. Katie, one of the chasers, had even asked where he'd gotten one of his band t-shirts and as a muggleborn herself seemed highly entertained when he'd described the store, but that had been the extent of comments on his outfits on the most part. They were all mostly there to play, after all, and honestly the girls on the team were not half a likely to wear sparkly things in their hair as Harry was so…there was that.
He hadn't quite expected to be so successful in getting into McGonagall's good books so early in his time at Hogwarts either, but by being an exemplary student in transfiguration and now the 'secret weapon' seeker on her quidditch team, he was fairly certain if she were to ever admit to such things, he'd definitely be her favorite. He appreciated that she was still painful strict and fair when it came to grades and most rules (non-quidditch rules, apparently) so it felt more like an accomplishment on his part rather than favoritism because of the fame he couldn't control.
Also, he rather like that people kept bringing up how good he was at transfiguration. His trade with Neville for transfiguration in exchange with herbology help seemed to be doing wonders for the both of them, as well as Neville's confidence as he was actually a very good teacher when he was speaking on something he both liked, and knew a lot about. The praise felt nice and he was helping Neville who was admittedly very bad at transfiguration, so he ended up putting more effort into the subject than he would've otherwise.
And while he was her favorite he was also determined to get McGonagall to crack a smile once before he graduated so he made a habit of reading ahead so he could needle her with annoying questions during class—it usually ended up with him having more homework but he liked to think she was enjoying it, and entertained by his 'complaining'.
So far as the actual playing quidditch bit… well, he loved flying and was apparently very good at it, but he'd never played any sport before so he had no idea if he was actually any good or McGonagall and Wood were just on a sports-frenzy when they touted his skill. McGonagall was pretty objective though and Wood was brutal with his honesty when they weren't playing well, so maybe their belief in him was warranted. It was just that catching a golden ball over and over and over again got repetitive and while dodging blungers got his heart racing, Fred and George were great at their jobs at keeping them preoccupied, basically being a pair of human blungers themselves. He wondered how good they'd actually be against a real team, as he heard Slytherin had won the cup for several years in a row now.
He supposed he'd have to wait for the season to start to see.
Another large change that happened was his status in at least his year level; he supposed throwing a massive fit in front of everyone was enough to get their attention, and not in the 'that's Harry Potter' kind of way, but more a 'that's the guy who physically attacked a Slytherin and a Gryffindor equally without using magic in front of McGonagall and got away with it' kind of way. Seamus hadn't been kidding that he'd gotten major credit in both Slytherin and Gryffindor for doing that—Gryffindor because they thought it was hilarious and awesome, and Slytherin because he half suspected most of them had the urge to slap Ron at least once and were too restrained to actually do such a thing, and Draco had been their problem child for a while now so seeing him get decked didn't irritate them too much.
Harry felt a little bad that he was responsible for both Draco's poor position and the bruise on his face now, although it faded in a couple days rather quickly. The bruises faded that is, not his guilt.
He made a lot of Hufflepuff friends as people came up to him to talk about it, cheering him on as they too were a bit annoyed with the two house rivalry, and he'd gotten an earful from both Hermione and several Ravenclaws who were appalled by the blatant display of violence. Some more chill Ravenclaws said it was enjoyable, but most thought it was pretty startling—better than the normal fighting in the halls or passive aggressive comments during class, but still not their favorite thing.
Still, as everyone liked to argue and tell him what they thought of his actions like they had any say at all in what he did as bystanders to his own life's drama, he found that he was getting a lot less stares and people were for some reason happier to talk to him like he was an actual person now. Harry—and not Harry Potter. Maybe because he was acting extremely different from what they'd always assumed "The Boy Who Lived" should've—he looked nothing like the books they'd written about him, dressed weirder than anyone they'd ever met, was a Gryffindor that hung out with Slytherins as a personal choice, and was now proven to have a very un-heroic temper that no one was safe from (if he'd gone after his best friend who was a Slytherin and his own Gryffindor dormmate, NO ONE was safe). He was different, and a person rather than some idol, and what's more than that was that he was willing to actually talk to people and hang out with anyone, anytime, so people quickly learned who he actually was instead of whispering from the distance and making their own assumptions.
The more these kinds of things happened, the more Harry made it a point to sit next to new people in every class, to find a new spot at one of the house's tables (not Slytherin for the moment, other than if Blaise and Nott were there and Draco wasn't because he wasn't ready to deal with that yet), to walk with new people to each class, to partner with someone new (aside from Neville in herbology because Harry needed the help) and all around just be more engaged in the people around him. He didn't necessarily like everyone, but he could talk to people and got to know them at least a little bit, and if they never sat next to each other again because they just weren't going to be friends like that, then fine.
But he at least tried, he'd introduced himself, and they knew him as a person instead of some legend, and that quickly made all the difference in the world.
Blaise, of course, noticed immediately what he was doing and grinned like that wolf he was when he'd pointed it out.
Harry knew right then and there exactly what the hat had meant by needing to think like a Slytherin while he was in Gryffindor to get places: he was making friends in order to obtain some kind of status for himself, and being a Gryffindor is what was giving him the opportunity to do such a thing. Gryffindor wouldn't give him he time of day if he were trying to do this as a Slytherin, and while not impossible for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, it'd definitely be much harder. Slytherin would be a tough nut to crack, but they could be swayed with logic and the right amount of cunning… and a lot of patience. Gryffindor on the other hand, was just blind prejudice and emotion when it came down to it.
Exhibit A: Ron Weasley.
And so, while the Draco situation never fully left his mind, his first month at Hogwarts seemed to speed by in the blink of an eye with never enough downtime to ever get truly caught up in his more troubling thoughts. Between schoolwork, the extra transfiguration assignments, quidditch as a first year, and slowly making his way through the school until he was fairly certain he knew everyone in a very general way, his schedule was packed and before he knew it, it was October.
The first Saturday in October though, things got weird.
Given he was an early riser even on Saturdays and Blaise had told him to bugger off since the Slytherins (the only people up early enough on the weekends for him to bother) were studying for their first big defense test and his nosy self was not invited, he'd elected to visit Hagrid. He felt bad about not stopping by to visit the giant man nearly as much as he planned to, but the Keeper of the Keys didn't seem to mind at all, just welcomed him in for some tea and then let him trail along as he did his normal route around the grounds to ensure everything was alright. Curious as to what that actually entailed, Harry tagged along for the fun of it and had a great morning listening to Hagrid talk about the trees and gardens and forests. By even an hour into their walk, Harry now fully understood why it was called the Forbidden Forest and was making plans to just never ever go in there."And how big are we talking here?" He frowned deeply at Hagrid's back as the groundskeeper waltzed forward in front of him uncaringly, large head craned up to evaluate the tree line since apparently it had a habit of spontaneously encroaching onto the open field and could be violent if you let it go like that too long. Harry would've asked what Hagrid meant about trees getting violent if he hadn't already met the Whomping Willow on his mini-tour—Hagrid was apparently very fond of it so they'd gone there early in the tour.
"No bigger than Fang, I'd reckon." Hagrid answered his question, only half paying attention but instead squinting at the trees.
"Right. Tarantulas the size of a large dog. Fabulous. And how many did you say there were?"
"Oh 'undreds, easy. Aragog is a proud father!"
Right, note to self: stay the snitch away from the trees.
He took a neat, subtle step away from said trees to make sure Hagrid was now walking between him and forest, pretending to also look at the trees as if equally as fascinated by their leaves while more pertinently scanning the undergrowth for eyes… or fangs.
"Acromantula venom actually 'as a ton 'o uses ya know, fer potion makin' and one or two old alchemy tricks—ah, but they don't teach alchemy at Hogwarts anymore, such a shame that is." Hagrid chatted, seeming happy to keep talking so long as he had a listener and Harry was just content to jog along with his huge pace and take it in. "Venom like Aragog's is pretty pricy too—'bout a 'undred galleons a pint I'd say, cause it dries up in hours after a spider dies like that, and milking a live one is impossible if yer not friends with tha beast! Might be th' only reason Snape is actually kinda civil to me, cause I can get him a ton of rare ingredients if he's patient enough. Like venom and even unicorn tears too!"
Unicorns!? Heck yeah—gotta ask about that…
"Ah but Aragog might be the las' o' his kind these days… Acromantulas come from the rainforests in Asia ya see, and there was a ban in the 60s on breedin' 'em." He paused, glancing back at the student behind him but Harry just politely raised an eyebrow as Hagrid blushed under his big bread. "Ah—Aragog it older than that… promise." He chuckled a bit nervously and Harry just gracefully took his pause for his advantage.
"There are unicorns in the forest?" He changed the subject tactlessly and Hagrid was only too eager to jump on it to get away from the implication that he had an illegally bred monster-spider stashed in the forest. (Honestly, for how earnest and good-willed the guy was, when it came to dangers beasts he didn't seem to think twice about breaking laws…)"Of course! Got a whole heard! They don' much like men, prefer women mostly, but they've pass by me a couple o' times as if ta say hi here an' there. I take care o' the forest so they seem to be fine with me in their area every so often—the foles are a brilliant gold color and don't mind men as much now that I think about it, I've manage to pet one once."
"Wow…" Harry's felt awe at that. Magical creatures was probably twice as interesting as magical plants to be honest. "What color are the adults?"
"At about two or so they're a silver color, then when they're full adults they get this white glow about 'em. They say it makes fresh snow look grey, and I'd hafta agree to be honest." Hagrid grinned happily at the memory and now Harry was dying to meet one.
"What do they think of all the, uh… other creatures in the forest?"
"Ha! Almost nothing is faster than a unicorn—even th' most aggressive beast in here could never catch 'em."
"Then how do wizards? For the cores of wands and such?"
"Trust. Only way a hair of a unicorn or unicorn tears is worth anythin' magically is if it's freely given. That's why Ollivander's got a good thing goin'; his ancestor had a friendship with the creatures and he can ask 'n so long as they still like 'im they'll let 'im take a hair or two. A hair taken by force loses a lot o' its magical properties—or at least th' good ones that make it a good wand core. Same concept of unicorn blood—it can heal almost anythin', but kill a unicorn or take its blood by force an' you'll be cursed worse 'n anything you can imagine, even if it does have some truly impressive healing ability."
"Curse aside, you're an arse if you kill a unicorn." Harry huffed, and Hagrid let out a startled chuckle at that.
"True, true." He agreed cheerfully.
"So unicorns, centaurs, trolls, thestrals, giant spiders, trees who are jerks… any other terrifying creatures you tend to?"
"They're not terrifyin' if ya' get to know 'em!" Hagrid defended himself.
"Says that guy whose got a spider taller than himself as a pet, already giving that you're like ten feet tall." Harry rolled his eyes, but Hagrid politely ignored that by sticking his nose in the air in a hilariously unknowing impersonation of Blaise.
"Aragog is no pet, he's more a friend than anythin'! And tricky beasts tha' people call dangerous are jus' that: tricky. Nah, it's all about 'ow ya treat 'em! Take Fluffy fer example, play 'im a bit o' music and he falls right asleep!"
"Fluffy?"
Hagrid froze misstep, getting a very suspicious, highly guilty look on his face. He looked down at the boy beside him as if ducking his head like he'd been caught. Heck, he was even shifting his weight like a child caught stealing from the cookie jaw red handed!
"Ah… I shouldn'ta said that… I shouldn'ta said that…"
Well now I HAVE to know.
"Hagrid. Who and what is Fluffy."
"Sorry 'arry I shouldn't 'ave said a thing, don' worry about 'im."
"That's not comforting. You do realize you have a habit of naming harmless things ferocious names—like Fang, for one— but then very, very dangerous creatures increasingly innocent names. Clive ring any bells?"
"Clive was a good friend!"
"Clive was a spitting scorpion lemur. How you got it in your hut, much less convinced it not to kill you when it very much wanted to, I'll never know."
Luckily (and unluckily) that was the day he'd convinced Neville to visit Hagrid with him, and the poor blond had immediately fainted upon meeting the terrifyingly bite-sized demon-lizard-thing. Upon taking his friend to Madam Pomfrey to explain the situation, it'd gotten around to Dumbledore who apparently had a chat with Hagrid about his pets and Clive had been re-homed by the following day.
Harry had a bad feeling he'd run into Clive in the Forbidden Forest somewhere if he was ever dumb enough to go in there, that was just the kind of luck he had.
"Ah, well…" Hagrid shifted his weight again as if he were caught.
"Fluffy implies it's a terrifying monster." Harry insisted.
"He is not!" The giant defended this mysterious pet immediately, seeming to forget to look guilty for a second. "Like I said, a bit 'o music and he's cuddly as a pup, I promise!"
"Yes, but what is he? And actual puppy or…?"
"Ah… shouldn't say."
"Then can I meet him, if he's so cuddly? Should I sing while I pet him?"
"No!" Hagrid immediately back pedaled, grimacing when he realized what he'd done when he saw Harry's expectant look.
"And why not?" He demanded.
Hagrid seemed to slump, realizing there was no way out of this without dropping the subject altogether, and he was far too polite and well-meaning to do such a thing. "Dumbledore wanted ta use 'im for an important mission and he's supposed ta be a secret." He confessed, almost in shame to be admitting it.
"Well you don't have to tell me what the important mission is or anything about the secret. I'm just curious about what kind of creature Fluffy is. Please Hagrid?" Harry pulled out his own puppy eyes— and it was probably his love of animals that won Hagrid over rather than the look, but either way in the end the large man ran a hand through his hair in defeat before giving a conspiring grin.
"Ah, well… he's a Cerberus. But a lovely one!"
"A Cerberus?"
Why did that sound familiar?
…wait.
"A Cerberus, as in… a three headed dog?"
"Yeah, and a mighty beaut' at that. Got lovely fur and is a big ol' sweetheart when ya get to know him." Hagrid chirped happily, seeming pleased now that his 'secret mission' wasn't being threatened and now he could talk about one of his pets freely.
"Big… how big?" If Hagrid thought he was big then it had to be impressive. "Like, Great Dane big?"
"Nah, Cerberus' can be big as 'ouses ya know! Fluffy's a bit 'o a runt though, but he's taller than me by quite a bit by now."
Harry was horrified. Absolutely horrified."Oh my god." He hadn't even realized he'd spoken aloud until Hagrid was answering him.
"He's impressive, right? I wish ya could meet 'im, 'arry, but maybe next year when he's done 'is mission for Dumbledore." Hagrid offered kindly, as if taking Harry's shock as awe instead of the bone-deep terror that it was. This guy…
"Uh, sure. Maybe next year."
And by that I mean maybe next year I'll come up with another excuse not to meet your twenty-foot three-headed guard dog of hell, thanks.
Hagrid seemed pleased enough with his lie though and nodding happily as he continued his patrol around the grounds, and Harry decided that maybe he'd had enough of learning about Hagrid's pets for one day.
000
"Something bothering you, Apples?" Fred—or George, but Harry just randomly decided to call the twin who sat down to his left Fred—chirped happily as two of him slipped onto the bench on either side of him at lunch. The one to his right he dubbed George, as said twin leaned around with him a grin.
"You've got a mighty impressive frown on your face there. Big thoughts?" He snickered, helping himself to the soup of the day.
"Spent the morning with Hagrid, learning about his pets." He admitted.
"That'll do it." They both chorused in sync, sharing a look over the first year's head.
"Let us recount the horrific tales of Phil to you, one of these days." Fred offered sagely.
"Yeah no, I'm good—I can imagine." Harry shivered at the very thought of whatever beast Hagrid had named something so deceptively cuddly. "Thing is, something he said this morning got me thinking. And actually, you two might be the best people to ask about it…"
"Oh do tell?" George perked up curiously.
Harry paused, thinking over exactly how he wanted to phrase this. He couldn't exactly come out and say that Hagrid's implication that Dumbledore was using a three-headed hellhound for a secret mission like this was some bad action movie had set off every alarm bell in his brain because he inherently distrusted their seemingly harmless Headmaster. He didn't want to mention how little he distrusted the Headmaster at all actually, because he seemed to be a very well liked guy and disliking him seemed like a very Slytherin thing that may not go over well with his Gryffindor housemates. The fact of the matter was though, that he was bored and had been reminded that Albus Dumbledore was a suspicious figure and he'd shelved a lot of things for consideration at a later date when he had time—and well, now was that time.
The easiest to tackle today though, was addressing the plethora of weird rules Hogwarts had—and who better to ask about the rules than the two people most likely to break every single one of them?
"I was just thinking about some of the rules Hogwarts has. Like, why a restricted section in the library? Or even had a curfew for upper years when they should be able to study? And why the hell do we keep Peeves around—does he have a purpose other than to be a prick?"
Fred snorted on his lunch so hard he almost choked, and George grinned from ear to ear.
"Asking the big questions—I like it!" He cheered. "Now where to start… yeah, the curfew thing is probably a farce."
"Our theory is that it's to give Filch something to do at night since he's a lonely, miserable old man who gets kicks out of hunting down kids who break curfew."
"Then again it's probably half our faults and those of tricksters like us," Fred chimed in. "Nighttime is great for pulling pranks!"
"Then again, the paintings all talk to each other and Dumbledore's got his hooks in all of them, so you've got to be careful even then," George winked, and Harry sat up straight at that revelation.
Talk about having ears to the ground… how many bloody paintings are in this school again!?
"Restricted section is probably a good one though—a lot of those books are cursed or enchanted."
"We're only just learning about some of the nasty stuff in there as third years, but you can't remove the curses without damaging the material so it's left alone for upper years who already know about what they might find in there."
"It's less about the material though—the library is huge so look hard enough and you'll find all sorts of dark and deep material."
"It's just not cursed or Madam Pince hasn't read it yet to know itty bitty first years shouldn't be reading it yet—and there's thousands of books so it's probably not hard if you keep looking!"
"As for Peeves—that's anyone's guess. He's even annoying to us and that's just impressive."
"He's not that old, he's definitely only come around in that last couple decades so it's probably Dumbledore being lenient."
"He's even against killing the boggarts that can gather in some closets. He's real against killing stuff like that."
"Boggarts?" Harry frowned, not having heard of that creature before, although he did make note of Dumbledore's apparently leniency as the twins called it.
"Sure, nasty pieces of work they are. Creatures who hide in dark corners—no one knows what they look like."
"Yeah, as soon as it sees you, and you them, it turns into your worst fear. Only way to get rid of it is to mentally force it into looking like something funny and laughing at it—laughing will make it back off but won't kill it."
"Then how do you kill one?" he frowned.
The twins exchanged looks, realizing at once that they didn't know.
"No clue." They chorused.
"We only learn how to kill dark creatures in class, but not even the spells on how to do it." George shrugged.
"You'd have to looks those spells up yourself, I think." Fred tapped his chin thoughtfully.
That's just horrible planning… what if you really needed to know? Or is Dumbledore's leniency so far that he refuses to even teach anyone how to kill what sounds like a bug at best? And on that note, how is this thing not deemed a dark creature?
It sounds as if he's using his position to force his beliefs on people—and if teaching kids not to fight back against their worst fears is how he starts, it doesn't bode well for what else he's done.
"Any other questions, Apples?"
"Yeah, unwinding school rules as stupid is simply thrilling!" the twins pulled him from his thoughts, and he blanked out trying to think of something quickly.
"Ah… well, what rule do you think is stupid?"
"Hm," They crossed their arms over their chests to tap their fingers along their chin eerily in sync—it was kind of freaky how they could mimic each other like that.
"Well, we can kind of figure out where most of the rules came from,"
"We're the cause of a lot of them!"
"But one we don't get is what's up with the third floor this year."
"Yeah, Dumbledore's never had a rule like that—and we've got three older brothers and parents who are alum of Hogwarts who all say it's weird too."
Harry smiled dryly. "Let me guess, you've already checked it out?"
Surprisingly the twins shrugged. "I mean not for trying, but Filch is hovering around that place like a hawk."
"Besides, the floor is huge. Of course we got up there, but in the time we had before Filch came looking, it's mostly just empty."
"You'd think if something up there would cause a gruesome death it'd be a little better guarded, right? Aside from Filch, who isn't exactly who I'd pick as a good guard." Harry offered thoughtfully.
"Exactly!" they agreed immediately.
"I mean we did go check it out but it looks boring. I'm not sure what Dumbledore is up to but it wasn't interesting enough to try again." Fred offered diplomatically.
"Yeah, we break rules for fun but since there's no fun in breaking that one we gave up." George agreed, turning back to his soup.
"Although," Fred frowned, catching Harry's attention with his slightly off tone. "I mean we did hear barking, like there was a dog in one of the far classrooms or something."
"You heard barking I thought you were delusional. Nearly Headless Nick said the Friar got a ghost dog the other day, it might've been that."
"That's not proven yet!"
But the novelty of the twins not being on the same page for once was overshadowed by the cascade of coldness that coated Harry's body, as the topic of dogs was brought up for the second time that day.
THAT'S why they couldn't go to the third floor!? Because Hagrid's pet Cerberus was in there!? What the bludger is that lunatic told man thinking!? And what the hell secret mission is so damn important that he'd risk setting a hellhound loose in a bloody school!?
"Yo Apples, you look a little pale?"
"Think of something?" Fred tilted his head curiously, before his eyes lit up. "Oh! Is it about the mystery dog!?"
"Guys," Harry shook his head, dropping his voice noticeably so no one else overheard, the twins instantly sobering up and leaning closer to hear. "Remember I was just talking about Hagrid's pets?"
The twins blinked, then balked.
"What is it?" George demanded instantly.
"Also why is it in the school and not the forest!?" Fred was asking the real questions here, and Harry nodded gravely.
"For that, I have no clue. As for what it is… you can't tell anyone or Hagrid might get in trouble, but I'm fairly certain it's a twenty-foot Cerberus named Fluffy."
"…"
"…'
The twins took that in for a long minute, then met each other's gaze over Harry's head, and nodded once.
"Well, this has been a lovely chat Apples, but I think I hear Wood calling."
"Indeed! Some more quidditch practice after stuffing ourselves with food is exactly what we need!" They chirped, suddenly back to their normal cheer as if that conversation hadn't just happened and helping themselves to more bread for their soup in identical, mirror motions on either side of him.
And that's what Harry loved about the twins.
They were in it for the mischief but they were good guys—Hagrid would get in a lot of heat for owning a Cerberus, having it inside the school, and to top it all of having actually let it slip instead of keeping those facts secret. The twins liked Hagrid, so despite being in it for the fun of it all, they could keep their mouths shut in service of a friend.
Harry had already kind of known that. Ron was their little brother and Percy was their elder brother—and both of them were real pieces of work. The twins hadn't ever said a damn thing about either of them, their family, or anything else that might cause trouble outside of a prank in Harry's presence. Hell, they hadn't even blinked when Harry mentioned Draco, and he knew for a fact via Ron's loud mouth that the Weasleys and the Malfoys were like oil and water—or fire and gasoline. Even Draco admitted their families were at odds, in not so many words, but instead of getting heated like a typical Gryffindor and a heavily Gryffindor family might, Fred and George had instead displayed a fine talent that few people seemed capable of these days, especially in the wizarding world.
The minded their own snitching business.
"Quidditch sounds fantastic," He agreed, turning back to his own lunch to finish up quickly. He also decided that Dumbledore was a lunatic, Hagrid was going to cause him to go grey prematurely, and he needed a lot more friends in his life like Fred and George.
000
There was no great alarm bell or crisis (aside from his internal one now that he knew there was a hellhound two floors up), no great proclamation or dramatic confrontation in front of the whole school that changed things. Harry honestly hadn't even seen it coming, and even later when he tried to think about it in earnest, he had no idea what triggered the change.
Time, perhaps. Time fixed a lot of things.
Not everything, but some things. And Harry wasn't an incredibly patient person by nature, but he chalked this one up to the virtue he knew he didn't have, and called it a win even if his stubbornness had played a big part too.
He didn't notice it at first, but Neville sure as hell did. Harry only looked up when his friend nudged him gently in the side from where he sat beside him at dinner that night, and he followed his friend's blue gaze to the person who had quite a lot of eyes fixed on him at the moment, standing in the aisle a bit down from them and between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw table.
Harry was more than a little surprised to see Draco, standing just far enough away to be very awkward. Upon realizing he'd been caught by the person he was clearly here to see, he stiffened up straight and continued walking from where he'd paused, until he was hovering behind him and Neville and forcing them to turn around to look at him.
Which, they did. Or, Harry did and Neville automatically copied although he looked blatantly nervous at what was about to happen.
It could've been easier and certainly more dramatic—even probably traumatizing for his baby cactus—to turn his back and ignore him standing behind where the Gryffindor table was having dinner, but this had never been about punishing Draco. It was about sending a message, and if Draco was ready to talk… in the middle of the Great Hall was a weird choice, but Harry wasn't about to be picky.
He'd missed his first friend, after all.
Draco shifted a bit under his expectant stare, clearing his throat in the only show of discomfort he was willing to show, otherwise keeping his chin up and face blank in a truly impressive regal mask. It was even more impressive given how most of the Gryffindor table was boring holes into him with their eyes—those closes to where Harry was having this confrontation falling quiet to eavesdrop shamelessly.
Grey met green—Draco remaining calm and prideful, and Harry staring challengingly at him, wondering what in the world he was about to say.
Because it had to be good. Draco was a dramatic little brat, so it had to be good.
And oh boy, was it.
Draco met his stare for a long while, before nodded once. He then turned on his heel about 45 degrees to his left and bowed his head politely—at Ron Weasley, of all people, who was gaping hard at what was happening.
Food nearly fell out of his mouth at being addressed so suddenly though.
"I apologize for antagonizing you, Weasley." He spoke clearly, not overly loud but definitely not lowering his voice nor backing away from his graceful tone. He was stiff and curt, but undoubtedly polite as he hastily turned back to Harry and gave him his own tight bow of apology. "And to you, I'm sorry I acted like a child."
Harry could only stare, but something inside of him melted.
He couldn't help but grin in amusement—not to mention joy. Aw, baby cactus was trying so hard… there was no way he couldn't forgive him for that. And he'd even apologized to Ron without gagging—the precious child.
"Apology accepted. Now sit and have desert with us." He commanded with a wicked grin, posing yet another challenge to the boy who was clearly trying so hard.
Draco, to his credit, didn't blink once—or maybe he'd mentally prepared himself for this if that was what was asked of him. He seemed to know Harry very well by now after all, so it wouldn't be a shock if he'd already guess that his Gryffindor friend might do this.
Still, he did nothing but glance once for wary awareness at the Gryffindors all eyeing him intently around him, before sliding into a seat next to Harry, but the opposite side from Neville. He wasn't stupid—there was no way that would go well, as Neville would simply flee and Harry would pout about it for the rest of dinner. Not the best tactic when they'd been reunited less than ten seconds.
That did however mean he was between Harry and a very shocked looking Dean, who seemed to freeze entirely, having no clue what he was supposed to do with a snake on the bench beside him. Harry thought both his and Draco's painfully straight posture giving away that he wasn't quite as comfortable as he was pretending to be was hilarious and let out a laugh.
He also sent a quick glance around the table at the distant eavesdroppers who were still staring, and upon meeting a warning glare of emerald green, immediately dropped their gazes down to their puddings and politely pretended nothing was wrong.
Everyone seemed to get the message—except one obnoxious party.
"What!? Why the hell is-!?"
Of course that wouldn't pacify Ron and of course he'd be too thick to read the room. Harry whipped around, a flash of heat surging through his limbs—but by the time he met Ron's gaze, the annoying redhead was silent.
Still clearly screaming and totally red in the face, but totally silently, as if someone had put him on mute. Harry blinked, taken off guard.
"Apologies for him, Mr. Potter!" Suddenly leaning around their brother, Fred and George flashed him mirror grins.
"Please don't kill our little brother with a fork, Mr. Potter,"
"Though he'd likely deserve it, it seems a harsh way to go," they chime politely, grinning like the cat that got the canary although their eyes were not quite as joking as they usually were.
With a fork? Harry thought incredulously, and then looked down, realizing he'd somehow snatched up a fork from the table without even realizing. Huh… I should really watch out for that temper thing.
Going by not only Dean and Seamus, but also Draco's slightly horrified expressions as he gently placed the fork back on the table as if pointedly letting it go, he wasn't the only one who realized this was probably going to be a thing.
Note to self: find a book on anger management.
"If he remains quiet for the rest of the meal, we'll see." He sniffed dramatically out loud, pretending he hadn't just been about to stab one of his classmates with cutlery. He made a show of relaxing his posture and those around him seemed to relax a bit too.
The twins saluted playfully. "Yes sir!"
Ron, who'd still been yelling through all this and still not realizing he'd been in danger for half a second thanks to his fat mouth, stomped silently on the ground and stormed off, out of the Great Hall in what would've been an epic temper tantrum if he weren't entirely silent.
"That's a cool spell." Harry noted to no one in particular.
"We'll teach it to you sometime!" One of the twins winked and Harry shot them a thankful grin—not just for that, but for everything they'd done today so far. MVP of October was definitely going to the twins, and they were only one day in so far.
"You know we have to share a dorm room with that now," Dean pointed out dryly, finally deciding he had enough of being too tense around Draco and simply returning to his deserts.
"At least he's not skilled enough to hex any of our stuff while where down here." Seamus piped up, also returning to his pudding with gusto.
"Who knows, maybe no one will un-silence him until tomorrow and we'll have a whole night of peace and quiet." Harry offered wistfully, earning a smirk from Draco.
"Seems he's not popular even amongst his house." The Slytherin hummed.
"He's just a bit much sometimes. Doesn't seem like a bad bloke, but if he ain't thick as anything," Seamus sighed, and Harry could only giggle. Half because of the comment, and half because Draco seemed to tense up in surprise that he'd actually been let into this conversation as casually as he was.
Harry laughed it off. "He's rude and he's got personal space issues. Plus, he eats like a dog, but he's not a bad guy."
"Fine. Can't say I want to hang out with him but it's your decision." Draco allowed, and Harry made sure he met his gaze pointedly as he responded.
"Damn straight it is," He intoned blankly with their eyes locked—grey and green charging at each other for the second time in five minutes.
Draco just pressed his lips together and glanced away, picking at the desert in front of him without commenting back.
The first years all missed it, but the upper years who were still shamelessly listening in and hyper-aware of the first year Slytherin sitting at their table for the first time in…ever really, all noticed immediately.
So the Malfoy heir was whipped, huh? And by Harry Potter none the less. Despite being a Slytehrin, the fact it was clear Harry Potter had a hold of him, and he'd been brave enough to walk over here in the middle of dinner meant they could probably give the kid a pass, despite his house. He still walked proud and tall like a Slytherin, and he came over here because he knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to act humble and lie to their faces with an apology he didn't mean if it meant getting into Harry's good books, but still…
If what the ambitious little snake wanted was Harry, and Harry was going to keep vouching for him and keeping the little blond snake under his thumb, Gryffindor could probably deal with Draco Malfoy at their dinner table every so often.
They would watch of course, but Harry was still Harry Potterthe Boy Who Lived to a lot of them, and so he could probably get away with this… if Draco continued to prove he was were for Harry, and no other conniving, snake-like reason.
Gryffindors understood sticking by your friends, after all.
They did not get Slytherin politics, and wanted nothing to do with it.
And Draco would have to learn how to walk that line between the two houses on his own. Tonight marked a first step, with the Gryffindor table relaxing a bit despite who he was and how deeply he'd just situation himself at their table, and Slytherin watching on with unreadable eyes from across the room.
Everyone that is, except a certain untouchable Slytherin who was wiping tears of mirth away from laughing so hard at what he'd just witnessed.
This was going to be a great year.