Weeks stretched on at Hogwarts, spring quickly getting warmer until summer was all but here. April ended, and with it passing Easter break in which Harry spent it playing a ton of football with the club now that it was officially large enough that there was always someone up to play or run around with if someone were to wander down to the pitch for some exercise. Hogwarts was at about half capacity for that break, as it was a lot less celebrated in the wizarding world so it was mostly muggleborns who went home, which left plenty of people to preoccupy Harry's free time with—and with the quidditch season soon to wrap up and Gryffindor pretty much having the cup in the bag, the arguments over who had rights to practice on the pitch that day had also died off some as well.
As May passed with the whether getting undeniably hotter into an unseasonably warm spring, and Harry being forced to simply sit and wait on operation fox until the right moment to strike, he was forced to confront the fact he would probably be going back to the Dursleys this summer.
He very much did not want to, but… that half-hearted thought he'd had over Christmas of having Draco ask his parents about Sirius Black over the next break hadn't happened, and then it turned out Draco hadn't gone home for Easter break at all since the Slytherin house as a whole treated that time off like free time to recoup from the past term and prepare for the final stretch—when most of their plotting would likely come to fruition as well. No way would they leave the castle and all their plans unattended just to visit parents they saw three months ago and who they were in regular contact with anyway. Even the most homesick of snakes wouldn't actually openly admit that, at least.
Harry can only imagine all those Slytherin parents would call their children fools for leaving Hogwarts at such a pivotal time anyway.
And anyway, even if he did ask there'd clearly need to be some amount of time to investigate and digest whatever the truth truly was—and if that was that Sirius Black needed a trial, that wasn't going to happen in a couple weeks. It'd probably take months and if it happened over the summer while he was stuck at the Dursleys and couldn't attend or hear about it, he'd blow a gasket. So, instead he resolved to have Draco ask over this coming summer, and he could deal with it when he got back to Hogwarts in September.
Or, maybe I'll just tell Petunia the new semester starts August 1st and cut the summer short with them. There has to be a place in London that'd let an underage kid stay without questioning it if I showed them my fancy credit card, right?
Still, resigned to the fact he'd be spending some amount of time with the Dursleys again, he finally put to use the catalogs he'd taken from the shops he'd visited last summer in both Diagon and Contrair Alley. All he had to do was fill out the order forms in the back and tap the 'x' at the bottom with his wand, and a couple days later whatever he wanted to arrive by owl and his bank statements reflecting Axeclaw having withdrawn whatever the appropriate amount was for the relevant shop. With this he was able to stock up on books, both educational and for his own amusement, as well as plenty of paper and quills as he fully intended to spend this summer corresponding with Draco just as much as he had last summer.
Their in-castle letter writing had almost fully depleted him of all his paper within a matter of weeks in fact, and he'd thought he'd had a serious stockpile since he was trading his Transfiguration notes left and right these days as finals approached quickly. He was learning that there probably wasn't such a thing as 'too much paper' when it came to him and the things he got up to.
He was also hoarding sweets and non-perishables, though Hogwarts had surprisingly few of those, for eating when he knew for a fact he'd be missing the magically filling stuff the castle had while back in the muggle world. Magical food beat out anything he knew himself capable of cooking by a long shot so no matter how much he could skim off the top of the Dursley's food funds, he'd still be snacking on chocolate frogs in the shed when he was sure no one was looking.
Additionally, he got a new series of blank journals ready to be filled with notes or perhaps his own Dell-style journals though he wasn't sure how to start with that. He wasn't really one for journaling unless it was for a class like Draco had taught him to but thought he might want to give it a try for lack of better options over the summer. He clearly knew he'd be bored out of his mind without practical magic, classes, politicking with the Slytherins, quidditch, or football to distract him—he knew he'd have chores, shopping, and cooking galore to do but he could do that blindfolded at this point so it wasn't interesting. Writing to Draco, reading ahead in his classes, perhaps journaling… that would have to tie him over so far as mental stimulation went until September. Hell, he'd even gotten a couple Arithmancy and Runes texts as trying to self-teach upper year material despite how frustrating that might be still seemed more attractive than total boredom. He'd kind of enjoyed toying with the duro spell equation after all, and kind of wanted to get back into it on his own time.
So, he planned, and despite not being too thrilled with his summer plans he tried to enjoy the rest of the year at Hogwarts while he had it.
And like it always did, time flies when you're having fun.
June dawned bright an early almost before Harry was mentally prepared to deal with the coming summer, and with it, finals week. Hogwarts had an amazing set up in which they had a day break to revise and then fifth and seventh years, as they had the OWLs and NEWTs to contend with, took their exams first. Their exams needed Ministry approval and took professors a while to get through, so they needed the full amount of time to grade those exams properly.
Then sixth and fourth years sat their exams, followed by third and second with the first years' exams kind of sprinkled in when professors had time to sit with them while they took it. Harry figured it'd take a professor a single night of work to grade all the first-year exams for how simple they probably seemed to a full adult, which is why they got the bottom of the barrel he supposed. Even then, after exams were sat they had a full two days after the official end of term for professors to finish grading, and for the students to relax, say farewell to friends, pack up their things, and prep for the final feast before the train would come to take them home.
It was the week before finals week though, that operation fox was a go.
And it started with Fred and George plopping down on either side of him at breakfast, two hands simultaneously stealing his sausages before he could stop them, but his irritation was derailed by their news.
"So it's done,"
"Don't ask us how,"
"But we managed to make your target mysteriously deaf for a couple hours the other day,"
"And in case you were curious, McGonagall's final is about one of the last term's spell of our choice."
"Three feet too! Bloody slave driver she is!"
Harry beamed, suddenly lifting his plate gleefully for them to steal and they split his waffle happily. Stolen food always tasted better, they'd told him, so he was happy to be stolen from in exchange for this absolutely wonderful news.
"Do you think it'll last until finals?"
"Probably." George shrugged once, swallowing his mouthful. "He's always gloating about his note-taking."
"Pretty sure he caused someone to fail our second year because he gave them the wrong notes on purpose." Fred admitted.
That's pretty damn Slytherin. The fool who'd taken them was an idiot. Harry raised his brows, though he wasn't actually that surprised. More surprised Montague even had that in him.
Slytherins don't share, not when it came to their tools to get ahead, and they considered their notes and grades as weapons to hold over each other's head which is why they studied so hard and were such tyrannical note-takers even if they hated the subject. Unless someone were to go to Montague to trade with him for his notes in exchange for something else, he probably wouldn't be in a situation where his teammates would just be casually discussing their upcoming finals—no use letting helpful hints or warnings slip when they could keep things to themselves and watch those around them sink or swim.
The fact he'd used false information to fail someone meant no Slytherin worth their salt would trust information he did give about the upcoming finals now either. It wasn't entirely out of the ordinary for the snake house but…
"Well that works out better than I could've ever hoped it would." He admitted with a grin, and the twins snickered.
"Care to include us in the grand scheme?"
"Or is this top secret as well?"
"Trust me, you'll definitely hear about it if this works—no need to ruin the surprise." He laughed, and they seemed to accept that. They weren't pushy people and they loved surprises, it was true. "Just keep it up until your last Transfiguration class. That should do it."
They shrugged, not bothered. Harry had already given them a full packet of every third-year Transfiguration spell he knew, with sections dedicated to each spell and sourced references to use if they needed it for their own upcoming finals, so they were well compensated for their service in any case.
"Aye!" They mock saluted and cleaned his plate of his toast as they stood and went on their own way—leaving a very confused Neville and Seamus sitting across from him. Dean was with the Hufflepuffs this morning and so his remaining two year-mates were looking very concerned.
"Um… Harry?" Neville mumbled nervously.
"Don't worry, I'm just torturing a Slytherin. And it's all going to plan so there's nothing to worry about," He waved them off while refilling his plate once more. Neville did not look pacified but picked at his own breakfast in resignation, clearly not actually wanting to know.
Seamus definitely didn't want to know.
"Better them than us," He sniffed with his nose in the air in an unknowingly bad imitation of Blaise as he went back to his sausage, and Harry couldn't help but giggle helplessly into his tea at that.
000
Harry's hair had grown out a bit during the year, and he'd taken to cutting tiny bits off to prevent the dead ends from consuming him entirely, but other than that he'd let it grow freely, so it was to the center of his shoulder blades by the time classes officially ended. He'd certainly played around with it on his own since he had so much free time in the morning anyway, but he hadn't really worn it out in anything other than a ponytail for when he was playing sports or going to be running around a lot that day, or clipped back to keep it out of his face. Mostly though, he wore it down and free, and often with one of Dell's baubles slipped into there somewhere just for fun.
Today though, he'd actually given it a go at braiding it. He'd practiced and finally felt like he was actually cool with it, that his inexperienced fingers had finally found a rhythm and the final product good enough to actually wear it out for the day.
It was also a big day, and he needed his hair out of his face while he was on guard like this.
He got several compliments on it from several people, mostly Hannah who gushed over it and Blaise had taken much glee from layering on back-handed compliments thick before Draco had resorted to punching his roommates' side, distracting them both into bickering amongst themselves. Draco had much more earnestly complimented it and his ears had turned pink from the grin Harry gave him.
The last class of the year was unfortunately their double-Potions session in the morning, but on the upside it meant they were officially done with classes by lunchtime with no afternoon classes to worry about. It also meant the third year Slytherins were wrapping up their very last Transfiguration classes this morning, and since they still had afternoon classes to contend with, Harry's target would definitely be at the lunch table for appearances' sake.
And because he was walking to lunch with the Slytherins given they'd just had Potions, he got to loop his arm around Draco's and march them approximately five meters farther down the Slytherin table than their typical position. Draco was far too startled by the uncharacteristic touch and Harry's babbling about their last potion to put up a fight even if he did notice, and by Blaise's raised eyebrow he had noticed and was too interested to see what he was doing to care arguing.
The very instant he realized Harry was acting off though, Nott seemed to break off from their group and actually went to sit near Crabbe and Goyle, which would at least be quiet company to sit with while he read through his meal like always.
That was a Slytherin who had an impenetrable sense of self-preservation is seemed, no matter his curiosity (if indeed he had any—despite how much he read he wasn't actually a Ravenclaw after all).
"It's the last day of term before finals; causing trouble are we?" Blaise intoned dryly as he sat across from him at the snake's table, and Harry just winked.
"I'd like to end the year as I started, and figure this is mild enough not to give anyone a heart attack."
"What, changing seats?"
"Yeah, don't like it? Not predictable enough for you?"
"No, actually, and not for anyone I care to know either. Predictable is good."
"Sooo you're friends with me because…?"
Blaise gave a dignified snort. "We are not friends, Potter."
Harry turned to Draco who shrugged. "I wouldn't suggest being friends with him either."
"Rude, Malfoy." The tall Slytherin snapped in a tone that said he clearly wasn't offended with the implication itself since it was self-explanatory why one would want to keep a Zabini at arm's length, and more offended that Draco didn't want to be friends with the Zabini heir in the first place. Not that he could blame anyone for it, but still. The pride of it all.
"Well either way, that's the thing about Gryffindors. We adopt people and are their friend whether they like it or not, because we can be a bit rude about disregarding peoples' wishes like that." Harry leaned into Draco's shoulder as if making the point and the blond's ears turned pink once more, a small smile gracing his porcelain face even sitting at the Slytherin table in full view of his housemates. Harry called that progress. He also turned and gave a suddenly wary-looking Blaise a wide grin. "So, with that being said… get used to it, Mr. Zabini."
Chocolate eyes narrowed at him.
Huh, for such a… well, difficult guy, Blaise's eyes were always the color of melted chocolate. They seemed warm and sweet, no matter what snark and cold indifference radiated out of the rest of him. Or, well, Harry might've just gotten used to them feeling that way, because the Zabini heir hadn't looked at him like that since the first couple weeks of the school year when he'd been pretending not to be amused by the Gryffindor at his table and seemed entirely unsure what to do about Harry in general.
"…I think you broke him." Draco commented, his raised eyebrow implying he wasn't amused by it, but actually surprised.
Blaise made a face, childish and arrogant at once.
"I don't think anyone's ever just told me to do something before." He admitted, and Harry could only just stare at him.
This guy… and I thought Draco was the spoiled one.
"It's an honor to be your first, Blaise." He smirked, and both him and Draco snapped their heads up to gawk at him.
Draco looked outraged at the joke while Blaise burst into laughter that forced the upper years near him to jump a bit in alarm.
"Okay both of you shut up." Draco snarled, cheeks tinged pink in indignation, Blaise actually using his sleeve to stop tears from escaping the corners of his eyes. "We've got so much revising to do in the next couple days, so shut up and eat." He ordered, shoving the nearest plate of whatever sandwiches they were serving towards Harry who obediently complied while still grinning widely despite Draco's huffing.
"Yes mother," Blaise rolled his eyes, earning a grey-eyed glare.
"Don't compare me to your mother,"
"And what's wrong with my mother exactly?"
"Do you want the abbreviated version, or the itemized list?"
"You little-"
Harry tuned them out of the sake of his sanity while he dug in to his meal, slyly glancing around the table to ensure most of those around them had been thoroughly distracted by the scene the first years were causing. While they refused to acknowledge it these days and outwardly acted as if they weren't bothered, all of Slytherin house was still distinctly aware of him when he sat at their table. They were forced to watch what they said, and if ever they gave the impression they were comfortable enough with a Gryffindor at their table to forget he was there… well, they were essentially shark bait.
And he knew he was being watched, and observed, and carefully cataloged every time he sat here. He'd gotten used to it, and was careful not to say anything too incriminating while he was here. Only dropping hints, and letting them see exactly what he wanted them to. The important people—meaning Draco, really—already knew everything else he didn't talk about at the Slytherin table, so it was just fine by him.
Today though, he was going to let a whole lot drop and hoped against hope that the right person heard it.
And more importantly, that they were interested.
He waited patiently as the conversation moved back towards finals—like it was about anything else these days—and while they weren't giving away their confidence levels on the subjects they were facing, they did talk business here and there. And because they were Slytherins, it was only too easy to steer the conversation into speculation about what their coming years would bring—Slytherins loved to plan, after all.
"The third years only have to write an essay on the hardening charm? I've already written tons on that, it's a bit boring isn't it?" He frowned when they'd discussed what they heard about the upper year finals.
"Says you," Blaise sneered. He refused to acknowledge it out loud but he knew Harry was damn good at Transfiguration… he just didn't know how good, actually. He'd very carefully left out talk of how far he'd come with his Transfiguration work amongst the snakes in his life.
Which is exactly what he wanted.
But poor Draco, didn't realize a thing Harry was planning and took the bait by turning to him curiously. "Written what?"
"Oh, McGonagall talks for hours about this stuff so I write it down best I can remember so when I get to that year level I can just copy it over. She went off about the hardening charm's importance as an introduction for reverse engineering Transfiguration spells for a solid two hours a month ago and I took all sorts of notes. If that's third year material I'm not sure why she was talking to me about it, but it keeps me on her good side, so I don't mind."
"You sure you're not related to Granger?" He scoffed.
"Oh gracious, do you think that highly of me? I have all my notes right here: let me regal you with a detail explanation of duro then, shall I Draco?" he whipped out the packet of papers he'd had prepared for this very moment and fanned himself dramatically with them, trying not to snicker at Draco's playful groan and how Blaise flicked a bit of bacon at him to get him to shut up.
"Stop, shut up. I don't want to hear your nerdy butt talk about Transfiguration anymore, I'll gouge out my own ears," Blaise complained.
"I am not that bad, you jerk!"
"Try to tell that to me again when you find another hobby."
"I have the football club, which I can tell you all about if you're interested-"
"The hell I am not. Back off," Blaise flung another piece of bacon at him which Harry deftly dodged and pointedly lifted the papers he was holding up to avoid being collateral damage.
Only for the papers to leave his hand.
He blinked, whipping around and none other than Graham bloody Montague was sneering down at him, holding Harry's papers above his head pointedly. It was far out of his reach sitting down, but Harry was… admittedly kinda short, even for a first year, so even if he'd been standing he probably wouldn't have been able to get at them without kicking Montague's shins a couple dozen times first to get him to lean down a bit. Not that he would demean himself by even trying to jump for them, when the guy was clearly trying to provoke him.
"Causing quite a scene, aren't you Potter?" he sneered, and Harry felt Draco tense beside him. He shot out a hand under the table and clamped it over his friend's wrist, holding on tightly in silent warning. Not that the blond would… Harry didn't think at least, but he'd spent enough time with Gryffindors for that reaction to be automatic by now.
"I didn't think you could read Montague, but just so you know those have my name on them." He snarked right back, and the third year's sneer was absolutely filthy.
"I think you're getting a little too cocky over here, you know? Maybe just a small reminder that you're still a little blood traitor—and not much else—will help put you remember your place, eh?" Harry saw the older teen's free hand raise, wand clenched expertly in it and tried not to let it show how hard he tensed.
"Guys like you are hilarious—you need to pick on a couple first years to feel big huh?" He snarked, preparing for whatever curse was coming, needing to hold onto Draco tighter as the wrist in his hold attempted to break free for a brief second. "Give those back, jerk."
"Yeah, I don't think so." Montague sneered, raising his wand…
Harry would like to say he didn't flinch, but he did.
"What is going on here?" A voice interrupted whatever pain was going to make Harry's afternoon really unpleasant, and when he snapped his head up he surprised even himself with how glad he was to see Snape standing there.
Wait… he'd actually stopped a Slytherin from attacking a Gryffindor?
"Mr. Montague, if you could be so kind as to discuss classwork anywhere other than the Great Hall, it would be advisable." Snape's silky tone was dry, his eyes narrowing not necessarily at either student in front of him, but up at the high table a little distance away.
Ah… he didn't exactly care about a Gryffindor being attacked, but he certainly cared that one of his snakes was stupid enough to do it while a dozen teachers are literally right there. Yeah, that makes way more sense.
"Yes sir," Graham let his wand drop and shot Harry one last scathing, triumphant look as he walked away immediately.
With Harry's notes.
Snitch. Harry cursed darkly after his retreating back. Too bad for you I knew you'd do it.
Snape didn't feel the need to say anything else but also shot Harry a derisive, dismissive look as he continued on his way to the high table himself. Harry would've been annoyed by a teacher so blatantly not caring that he was going to be attacked by an upper year just now if he didn't already fully expect that from Snape and also wasn't so surprised he hadn't been hexed just now—he was fully prepared for it too.
In the tense silence after the Potions master glided away, he huffed out a relieved breath.
"Well… seems like I won't be leaving the Great Hall until Montague is definitely in classes." He admitted, and finally saw the forcibly blank expression Blaise had on when he abruptly cracked it enough to roll his eyes.
Draco looked furious, but Harry just loosened his grip on his wrist and used it to nudge him slightly.
"Let it go, Draco."
"He took your notes," He grumbled.
"Yeah, but they're replaceable. He's a jerk but that's not shocking to anyone, and I miraculously was not hexed so I consider this a win." He dismissed brightly.
"You took that remarkably well." Blaise raised a brow at him challengingly.
Harry scoffed, loudly. "I was prepared to get hexed the first day I sat here and have been waiting for it all year. I'm honestly shocked it took this long to happen, and I don't expect this'll be the last time something similar does happen. I may be in Gryffindor but I'm not that stupid."
Blaise got a kick out of that and Draco at least seemed soothed he really was taking this seriously.
Harry made a show of getting them back on topic for the rest of lunch and then pointedly not leaving the Great Hall until the bell for afternoon classes had rung, however he knew Montague wasn't actually waiting for him around some unsuspecting corner. Which was apparently exactly what Draco was clearly fearing as the blond actually walked him back to Gryffindor tower after swinging by the library to study some (like Draco would be able to do anything? As a first year, against a third year? Against someone with more political clout than him that he couldn't fight back against? Draco's fretting was so intense is actually clouded his logic, which was troubling if not touching). Harry wasn't concerned that fight was going to be finished later—after all, Montague had gotten what he wanted. Picking on a couple of first years was just an easy, extremely believable cover.
So now, Harry could actually focus on studying for his finals because operation fox was officially out of his hands. He just had to sit back, cross his fingers, and wait.
000
"Draco! Draco. Draco you lazy bum wake the hell up! This is important damn it!"
Draco was, as a rule, not a morning person. His preferred sleep schedule would be somewhere between 3am-1pm, if not longer given the chance, but he forced himself to function like a relatively normal person so as not to miss meals and, since coming to Hogwarts, classes. People always assumed he was a lazy if he slept in, despite the fact he probably got more done after midnight than anyone else his age, but he was still trying to build his reputation amongst his peers so he attempted to wake at normal hours when he could.
That did not mean he liked waking up.
Ever.
So, at the intrusion above him he groaned from beneath the many pillows he'd buried himself under, trying to get away from the sharp voice piercing his now-blurry dreams, blinking rather blindly at the vibrations on his bed telling him someone was shaking the bed around him sharply. Half-asleep Draco almost thought it was one of his house elves as his mother usually let them wake him up since he was typically in a foul mood after first waking and she'd made it clear she was not interesting in dealing with that. And the elves feared his parents way more than they feared him, so when his father commanded them to wake his son in the next five minutes, they usually took drastic measures.
History told him if he didn't sit up and at least pretend to be awake in the next minutes, the shaking would turn to magically summoned water and that always put him in a foul mood for the rest of the day, so as soon as he was just awake enough to make that connection he lurched upright with a groan, blinking.
Wait, someone was talking…
"-are you listening to me?"
He blinked.
"What?"
Smack.
NOW he was awake, and reeling back in shock as his cheek smarted sharply. He clapped a hand over it, the coldness of his always-cold hand soothing it instantly but still—did he just— !?
"Did you just slap me?" He demanded, finally awake enough to recognize that Blaise was practically beaming into his face, kneeling on the edge of Draco's bed in their dorm like a little kid who'd been told today was Christmas morning.
Okay, what the hell!?
"Yes," Blaise confessed, seemingly totally unrepentant. "But Draco, you don't understand—this is important!"
"What was so important you had to slap me for it!? What time is it even!?" He demanded sourly. Their finals were officially over and they had all today and tomorrow to do nothing before they were sent home— there wasn't another homework due until September and most of the year's house drama had reached its end with only fools scrambling to get something done with so little time left, so he could've slept in all he wanted, today of all days!
"Late enough, but shut up and listen for a second," Blaise didn't seem to care at all about how pissed the blond was, leaning even closer from where he was kneeling too close to him excitedly. "I've got great news! I know you were praying Montague dropped dead of his own accord but the greatest thing just happened." He paused for dramatic effect but was clearly too eager to wait that long. "He failed."
"Failed?" he blinked.
"He failed one of his exams!"
Draco did not have warm thoughts for the third year, but he also failed to see how this was revolutionary. It was known to happen, and it would be a killer hit to Montague's reputation, but everyone already knew he was a dumb jock with more viciousness than cleverness. One of those loud-mouthed Slytherins who didn't realize him picking fights with Gryffindors was inconvenient to everyone around him. Him failing was funny, but Blaise was way too excited for that to be the whole story.
"Okay? Good for him? Why did you feel the need to wake me up for this?" He groused and Blaise rolled his eyes impatiently.
"You're so lame. Fine, will you react if I tell you he failed due to plagiarism?"
Draco's mind went blank.
…wait, what?
"Plagiarism? Are you sure? That's just…"
"Stupid a hell, right!?" Blaise clapped his hands together happily. "Oh gosh Snape is pissed. He can't do a thing about it even if he wanted to—which to be clear, he doesn't. Montague is essentially ruined for this!"
Draco tossed his blankets off, sitting up properly and Blaise letting him as he continued to grin like a loon at someone else's pain.
"I just… the fact I hate him aside, I didn't think he was that stupid." He admitted.
"You and me both—the common consensus so far is that he had some kind of breakdown during studying and just lost his mind."
"How many people have you told already?" Draco stopped wondering how Blaise found out about things a long time ago—all he knew was that he was good at sussing out secrets and if it would ruin someone's reputation and/or make their lives even slightly inconvenient, the Zabini heir was a gossip whore who worked overtime to make sure everyone knew about it as fast as humanly possible. He didn't even care about using it for any kind of advantage (he had plenty of those up his sleeve, he didn't really need more), he just got way too much enjoyment in spreading rumors like it was his sole mission in life to fan life into a fire consuming a forest.
And worse, is that he didn't lie. He didn't spread false rumors, so if you heard it from Blaise, it was definitely true.
True to form, the tall Slytherin scoffed. "Please. Pretty much everyone awake right now and I'll get everyone else before breakfast." He boasted proudly. "Montague is never going to recover from this and you know it. Consider him one less problem anyone has to deal with, you and Harry included." He beamed.
Draco shook his head, too used to it by now to be surprised.
"Do you know what subject it was?"
"No," Blaise admitted morosely, sounding sorry he didn't. "All I know is that it wasn't Potions or Montague would not be breathing right now."
No, Severus took so much pride in his potions that he might've strangled Montague personally for daring dishonor the subject by being so freaking stupid. Draco winced just from imagining what his godfather might've done to the third year if that'd been the case.
"The downside to this is that whatever teacher's subject this is, they took two hundred points from Slytherin for it. And Snape can't even argue about it because, come on: plagiarism!?"
"Shit, that means we lost." Draco did some quick math, and realized it was actually close but with that deduction it was definitely a loss for them—and Gryffindor had likely won as they'd been in second place as of yesterday. "Oh man he's never going to recover from that. Failing from plagiarism and losing the house cup to the lions of all people in one go? Ha!" He was starting to see the gloriousness in this and his foul morning mood melted away.
Montague would never be able to openly pick on him or Harry again because at least in Slytherin house he'd be a laughingstock. It was one thing for Harry to taunt him, calling him weak for needing to pick on younger years to feel strong, but this changed everything—this made it true. He'd spend the next four years at Hogwarts trying to rebuild his reputation and it was a crap shoot on if he'd ever manage it. What he wouldn't do though, is risk looking desperate to seem strong by picking petty fights with underclassmen he (and everyone else) already knew he could win. That would not help him rebuild what he'd just lost, which meant he would be on his best behavior from here on out.
Because seriously. Not one person in this house gave a shit Montague had cheated—cheating was a fully viable option in the snake house because sometimes, that's just how you got what you wanted. Cheating was not only fair game, it was fully expected on every level among them. In fact it was more of a surprise when someone played honestly, just because it was so unexpected.
But getting caught cheating?
There was no way to come back from that. That was essentially the big glorious signal that Montague was a bad Slytherin.
And he could talk all he wanted about Draco being a bad snake for befriending a Gryffindor, but the Malfoy heir could actually go join the football club and get chummy with as many muggleborns as he liked and he still wouldn't be as bad a Slytherin as Montague officially was now.
He started to grin, and he didn't care that Blaise was seeing him smile so unreservedly because he himself was doing it too.
"Oh, and you haven't heard the best part." The Zabini chirped, sounding like he was about to die from happiness right now. He didn't even dislike Montague like Draco did, he just reveled in others' misery far too much.
"It gets better?" Draco was pleasantly surprised, and Blaise nodded quickly.
"Yep! The absolute cherry on top is that in lieu of having to repeat the whole year of whatever class he failed, he's allowed extra study sessions next year to catch up. Essentially detentions to re-learn stuff, I figure. But oh, the best part, is that because of it he's been kicked off the quidditch team! Since clearly he can't study and be an athlete!"
Draco stiffened at that—because as a die-hard fan that news hit even harder than detention for life would've—but he then remembered it was Montague he was sympathizing with and laughed gleefully at this news.
The jerk deserved it for all the headaches and annoyances he'd causes this year. And for almost hexing Harry into oblivion just the other day!
"Karma couldn't have picked a better guy," He decided bluntly, Blaise cackling like a madman as he scrambled off Draco's bed finally to dust himself off and do a little happy spin for flare.
"Well, you know and now I've got to go tell literally everyone else. What a lovely end-of-term surprise!" He positively sang as he made his way through the door. Draco let him go, relaxing in these new, pleasing thoughts.
He glanced over and saw Nott already dressed, reading on his already-made bed. One look at his face and he knew Blaise had already told him too, because he was in a much better mood than he normally was.
000
Harry had not expected that the most excited person about Montague going down in flames would be Blaise. After giving it some thought though, he realized that was a stupid thing to be surprised about—of course Blaise was all about spreading rumors just to watch someone suffer.
It was pretty much the shock of the year so far when, for the first time in what was probably decades, a Slytherin ran up to a group of Gryffindors in the entrance hall on their way to breakfast, and pureblood snob or not, Blaise had excitedly told all of them his news. Draco wasn't even anywhere to be seen, the Zabini had come up to them all on his own and looked positively thrilled to be defaming one of his own housemates.
And Dean was somehow brave enough to point this out. Blaise was in such a good mood he seemed entirely willing to be friendly to all of them this morning, and eagerly responded.
"Oh please, Montague is a dunce of a Slytherin and we all kind of suspected it but this bloody proves it, doesn't it!? I mean, it's not exactly cleverness to pick fights, but house unity and all that we have to stick together if he picks a fight and it's just a right pain in the arse if you ask me," He babbled, chatterbox tendencies amped up to 1000% and Harry almost wished he had a video recorder to document this moment. He settled for watching on in amusement.
Dean seemed highly entertained by Blaise's antics too. "And he was kicked off the quidditch team on top of it all? That sucks—for him that is." He chuckled.
"It breaks the quidditch team clique they had as well—all dark pureblood families and unified for the team? Talk about hard to plot around an alliance like that!" Blaise complained emphatically, and Harry saw that statement sail right over his roommates' heads. Seamus even scratched his temple as if trying to figure out what the hell that meant.
And well, they didn't exactly have time to explain to a bunch of lions about how complicated Slytherin house dynamics really was, so Harry changed the subject.
"Do you think he'll show to breakfast?"
"I mean he has to, essentially." Blaise scoffed. "We don't put emphasis on bravery like a Gryff would, but we do have our pride. If he dares hide his face today then not only is a coward, but he has no pride even in failure. The first might be forgiven, the but second never would." He explained imperiously.
"Even if it's essentially just going to be a walk of shame for him?" Seamus raised both brows incredulously.
"Yep!" Blaise rubbed his palms together rather diabolically, which caused Dean and Seamus to lean away in mock fright. Or maybe real fright, Harry wasn't actually sure.
He laughed it off though, either way.
"Well I am definitely sitting at the Slytherin table this morning, because if this is how you're reacting I want to see everyone else break character too," he teased, earning a light smack to his shoulder.
"Oh ha. This is greatest bit of gossip I've had all year, don't ruin it for me!"
"On the contrary, I happen to know it's about to get better." He promised, and everyone looked at him in surprise, Blaise snapping to attention intently.
"Wait, Harry, you knew about this already?" Seamus blink.
"You knew I was plotting something," he pointed out, and the Irishman immediately folded.
"Right… I didn't want to know. Not sure I want to know even now…"
"Well I do—what the hell!? Spill it Potter!" Blaise barked, seeming to forget about personal space for a moment as he got close to demand answers, practically clinging to his robe collar and Harry laughed again as he shoved him off.
"Well come sit down to breakfast and you'll see!" He teased and the Slytherin looked very put out—only for it to be replaced in a split second by eagerness and curiosity oozing from his every pore.
"We'll leave you to it; let us know how it goes." Dean waved them off happily as Blaise practically dragged Harry back to snake territory in eagerness to see whatever it was Harry had up his sleeve go down. Harry waved back at his roommates, particularly a rather baffled looking Neville.
While he only seemed to have a thing against Draco in particular, in general Neville was more of 'just avoid them but don't actively hate them' kind of person when it came to Slytherins. The fact Blaise (a pureblood name Neville definitely had a preconceived notion about) had come running up to them like a little kid on Christmas eager to share his new toy with them had probably shattered some of his world-view.
But in a good way, Harry hoped, as he left him to stew that over for this meal and instead let Blaise drag him over to where Draco and Nott were already sitting.
As Harry sat next to Draco and Blaise plopped down across from him, the complaining started.
"I want to know, I want to know, I want to knooooow,"
"Christ Blaise, shut up!" Draco huffed.
"Long morning?" Harry commented lightly, earning a dark look.
"He slapped me to wake me up he was so excited." The blond grumbled. "Lord knows what he's on about now."
"I promised him something else to gossip about. Sorry, I didn't mean to make it worse."
"I'm not going to blame you," Draco huffed, glaring at the slap-happy Zabini across from him.
"Who gave Zabini sugar first thing in the morning?" Daphne appeared, slipping onto the bench on Harry's other side and he beamed at her while she nodded her greetings back.
"It's gossip. Apparently, it works like sugar." He explained cheerfully.
"You are a cruel person for keeping me in suspense." Blaise complained, actually ignoring Daphne for once instead of picking a fight with her just because.
"I don't want to hear that from you of all people."
"Guys," Daphne cut them off, and they all realized what she was trying to say as the man of the hour actually showed up to breakfast just as Blaise said he would.
Graham Montague, Harry had to admit, had some pride since he managed to keep his mask composed as he entered the Great Hall and made his way to his normal spot for breakfast towards the head of the table, meaning he had to walk past pretty much his whole house to get there. And when he did get there, the quidditch team that typically sat around him had mysteriously found elsewhere to be that particular morning. Go figure.
The other three tables in the hall were loud and chatty as ever, no one realizing the Slytherin table had fallen pretty unusually quiet all of a sudden as they whispered amongst themselves almost in sync for when he walked past them. Treacherous things, here and there, and as Daphne actually snickered a couple dark comments lowly for only Harry and Draco to hear around her, he found he actually really enjoyed this when he wasn't the one everyone was whispering about.
What was that saying? If you couldn't beat them, join them? That's exactly what this felt like. He'd actually infiltrated the snake house enough to be included in on an inside joke against an actual Slytherin and while unexpected, it was an awesome bonus to his plot to destroy the third year.
And I mean… I've already won, technically. But I wouldn't be a Gryffindor if I didn't rub it in with as much dramatism as possible—and I also wouldn't be the Gryffindor that was almost put in Slytherin if I didn't take the opportunity to deal a killing blow. Just to make sure that there would be no recovering from this.
All he had to do was wait, and he didn't have to wait long. Montague was clearly only here to put in his required appearance, consume some acceptable amount of food to make it look like he wasn't feeling the pressure he absolutely was, and then get the hell out of dodge as fast as possible. So Harry had only just finished his first cup of tea when Montague stood, and Harry slipped his wand out of his cloak sleeve in preparation. He knew he was going to need it.
He waited until just before the third year was going to pass by where they were sitting, and luckily he was on the opposite side of the table so Harry could face him properly for this.
"Hey Montague." He called out—not loud enough that the whole Great Hall heard him obviously, but the fact all of Slytherin was watching this particular guy they all shut up and stared at him as if he grew another head for what the hell he was doing. Blaise, Nott, Draco, Daphne—pretty much everyone snapped their heads around to stare at him in shock for it so sharply it looked rather painful.
The third year in question broke his mask to look downright furious the interloping Gryffindor dared try and interfere with his walk of humiliation, but even he couldn't lash out right then. Not when everyone was watching and he knew he was on thin, thin ice.
And Harry was not, for once. He knew they thought he was insane and pretty much suicidal for speaking up just now, in this situation of all situations, but hopefully they'd get over it in a minute or so. And at least the first year Slytherins knew better than to doubt him, when they saw him smile rather wickedly.
With Montague sufficiently halted in his steps and his undivided attention (fury) on him, Harry waved at him in a deceptively friendly manner.
"Remember that time you called Malfoy a sell out?" he chirped.
Everyone blinked.
Even Draco looked shocked, tilting his head as if silently asking what the hell are you doing!?
"What?" Montague finally broke, seeming taken off guard despite seeming pissed a Gryffindor firstie was actually talking to him right now.
"Remember that time you called Malfoy a sell-out, and told everyone he was an arrogant brat?" Harry reminded him kindly. And then… after a second or two to let that reminder sink in, he dropped his smile and mustered up the coldest, most pissed off look he could muster. "Don't do it again. How'd that Transfiguration essay go for you?"
He both felt and heard at least half of Slytherin house choke on air.
Draco's hand lashed out to clamp over his arm in shock, and Harry let it happen while keeping his eyes locked on Montague, whose face had gone white as a sheet.
Before slowly turning a deep, thunderous red.
"You… you!" He had his wand out in an instant, but so did Harry, having fully expected it—and in a move that was like rubbing salt in a wound, he cast his modified duro without hesitation, the sleeve of the Slytherin's robe not only turning to stone, but turning to marble and weighing about 40 times what it used to. It forced his wand arm down and Harry was just that much faster so it interrupted his wand movement, canceling whatever curse he'd been about to fling dead. It was so heavy in fact that the teen stumbled a bit to the side, but still managed to keep his feet—sheer rage seeming to drive him as wordless anger seem to explode out of him. "I'll fucking kill you!" He hissed venomously.
"Why? Because you're not much of a snake?" He lifted a casual eyebrow at him, twirling his wand in his hand flauntingly. "I am only a first year after all. I can't beat you in a fight, and one would think a Gryffindor could never best a Slytherin in a game of wits. Funny how that is, isn't it?" He shrugged, pressing lips together thoughtfully and fully aware of all the eyes watching him with drop-dead shock. "Go ahead and hex me but remember that I do not forgive people who hurt my friends. And I can hold a grudge."
He narrowed his eyes pointedly at the upper year to drive home his point and Draco just about fainted beside him, the hand on his arm tightening near painfully like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Blaise looked like he was in absolute bliss. Even Nott was just gaping openly with wide blue eyes, almost like he wanted to stare at Harry but couldn't quite keep his eyes off Montague, who was still pissed and armed and the biggest threat to everyone at the moment.
There was a beat of silence as Slytherin as a whole digested that rather open, but nevertheless deadly threat that'd just been issued.
And then…
"Holy shit I'm in love." Blaise announced bluntly, and Draco spluttered violently, going between looking at Harry in shock and Blaise in absolute betrayal.
Even more so when Harry just grinned and winked at him playfully.
Draco made a sound like a dying owl and flailed a little helplessly. While the upper years hid their reactions better, by their expressions it was clear that if they weren't so reserved they'd probably be doing the same thing.
Montague just stood there, furious… but also seeming to realize the corner he'd been backed into. Not only had Harry just taken credit for his failure, but he'd also outmatched him before he could get a single spell off. There was absolutely no way to save face right here and now, and despite how unquestionably angry he was right then, he knew it.
Especially not when Harry lifted his wand and benevolently fixed his sleeve, returning it to normal.
Essentially daring him to attack now.
Because if he did, he'd just dig a deeper hole to bury himself in, and that was exactly what Harry wanted.
Come, play into my trap, the words were not said but they might as well have been by the red head's wide, too-pleasant grin and the fury etched onto Montague's face.
But lashing out in anger was a Gryffindor thing. If Montague fell for it, he'd be no better than an impulsive Gryff, and then there was no hope for him—at all. And he must've had some pride as a Slytherin left… because he just turned on his heel and stormed from the Great Hall as fast as he could without running. His face was still beet red—either in fury or humiliation, there was no way to really know.
And Harry was disappointed the guy didn't play into his last trap, but not that put out by it. He kind of figured he might not, and in any case it didn't matter. He'd already won.
So he grinned, letting everyone know just how very pleased with himself he was.
And also to await the fallout, because no one had stopped staring yet and he did not expect them too any time soon. Which, was fine by him, because now they weren't staring out of hate or mistrust and he'd done his hair nice today so they could look all they wanted.
The first person to break the silence though, legitimately startled Harry.
"How did you do it?" Nott asked the question they were all dying to know, his face was intent, and urgent, if not still blank as always, but the fact he talked(to him!) caused Harry's jaw to drop.
"Nott! You talked!"
"Shut up and answer the question, Monroe." Harry startled again, realizing that despite the sharp tone, Nott remembered all the way back to first day when he'd snapped at him to call him Monroe. That was…
Huh.
Well, he was already planning on explaining so he shelved his surprise for a moment to get back on track.
"I'm pretty good at Transfiguration, or so I've been told, and I actually cleared third-year level spells a while ago now. One of the things I've been working on with Professor McGonagall is actually research into the hardening charm, which just so happens to be one of the charms third years are allowed to do an essay on for their final. I've even made some ground with it and McGonagall knows all about my research on it from months ago, in depth—I even gave her a rough draft of the paper I want to publish in a couple years when my work is more fleshed out! And on an entirely unrelated note, it just so happens that I've got a certain pair of third-year twin pranksters who owe me quite a few favors." He leaned back a bit, putting a hand over his chest as if swearing on his honor as he smiled innocently.
"The fact Montague never heard about that essay until three days before it was due and I just so happened to have a copy of my draft paper on me and he happened to overhear me talking about it at lunch the other day was a total coincidence, I swear." But by the way Blaise was grinning like a madman and even Nott started to smile with eyes glinting in interest, he knew his real meaning was understood in full. "He's the one who wanted to rough up a couple first years and take it for himself, and who didn't change the wording enough for McGonagall not to notice it was my work. I didn't force him to write that essay, nor to write it badly—it's his fault for not understanding the source material enough to paraphrase." He explained while grinning to make sure everyone was abundantly clear that yes, yes he did fully force Montague to write that essay but you definitely could not prove it.
He left out the part of him inventing a new spell in that explanation though. No need to give away all his cards.
But it was an open and shut case from McGonagall's point of view, as she'd come up to him yesterday and rather casually asked him if he'd handed out his paper to anyone other than her and professor Vector. He'd felt a little bad about playing her, but he'd stuck to it his plan as he avoided her gaze and told her he hadn't.
She wasn't stupid, and she'd clearly made the right connection to infer that Harry hadn't given his paper to anyone. Montague had taken it, and he had a history of being a bully, so it wasn't even that big a jump to make.
The nail in the coffin though, was that there was no way McGonagall was going to buy that Graham Montague, who'd been an otherwise decent but average student in her class for the past three years, had suddenly broke ground on a thousand-year-old subject within weeks of Harry, an actual Transfiguration prodigy, doing the exact same thing on the exact same spell. She still had Harry's original draft paper locked up in her office after all, and a quick comparison probably sealed the deal in seconds, (AND provided iron-clad proof for when Snape likely came trying to defend his student that even his biased ass couldn't fight against). Her asking him was more a fact-checking mission than anything—she hadn't told him someone had stolen his work yet, but he had a feeling she would sit him down before the end of the year to talk about guarding his research properly.
He didn't intend to go waving his work around for the taking like that again, in any case. This time had been fully on purpose, and for a greater cause though, not something he'd make a habit of. Snape finding out about his Transfiguration skill and getting told off for being loose with his notes were necessary evils for his success though, so he was prepared to accept those consequences when they came.
"What deal with the devils did you make to get the twins to do that?" Daphne wanted to know, eyes glowing eagerly.
"They owed me a favor and now Montague will be a year behind them in Transfiguration. They don't like him much so the fact it was him was a bonus even if they were paid well for their services in other ways." He winked, leaving out exactly how he paid them. He wanted it known he could trade with the twins—if the Slytherins could trade to avoid getting pranked, he knew at least a couple of them would try for it, and they'd be willing to pay a pretty penny for it too.
"Even I wasn't expecting him to get banned from Quidditch, but…" He continued, glancing slyly at the blond beside him and Draco stiffened noticeably. "I do recall someone promising to play Quidditch with me someday… and you're supposedly a great chaser, aren't you Draco? I hear there's a spot open on the Slytherin team!"
Draco looked stunned…
…and then eventually smiled, his grey eyes still in shock but earnest joy lighting up his face.
"You're going down Potter." He sniffed haughtily—and now several people were grinning, as if forgetting for a moment that Slytherin house didn't do such things. It was just too entertaining not to.The wider audience of the Great Hall had obviously seen Graham Montague storm out of here in a huff, and the more gossipy few had been wondering what that was about. Those few were looking towards the Slytherin table, and were actually very startled to see all the snakes grinning like they hadn't just lost the house cup as of this morning. And what was weirder, is that they all seemed to be looking towards a very fluffed up and cheery Harry Potter, who was tossing his hair over his shoulder proudly while everyone around him stared with stars in their eyes.
Slytherins didn't do things like that, much less at the rouge Gryffindor who sometimes sat at their table, so it was kind of frightening actually.
"Potter that's just… how the hell?" Blaise was not over this, seeming half stunned and half gleeful at this turn of events.
Harry scoffed audibly. "Being a stereotypical bully doesn't make you strong, or worth noticing, it just makes you predictable. Predictable people are easy."
Blaise tossed his head back in a laugh. "And you're friends with Draco why?"
"I am not predictable!"
"Draco, you so totally are, but you're also lucky I like you!" He teased lightly, and the blond flushed a darker red and kept spluttering indignantly. "I reserve revenge for people who I don't like so you're safe." He patted him sardonically on the head, careful not to mess up the perfect silvery locks.
"So you've got a temper and can be tactical. Draco, you're doomed." Blaise snickered, Draco shooting him a betrayed glare. Harry didn't quite get that one and glanced around for a clue, but no one seemed willing to answer his silent question.
As the whole table was shamelessly eavesdropping and watching this go down, Harry did not hear a nearby fifth year mutter under his breath something that sounded like it might've been 'whipped'—but Draco did, and his ears got hot despite his effort not to outwardly react to it.
And Blaise, being the guy that he was and also having obviously heard it, decided to pour salt in Draco's wounds. Because that's what best friends did.
He turned back to Harry with his most charming grin that instantly put Harry on alert.
"Harry, I love you. Marry me?"
"We're eleven, Blaise." He didn't miss a beat, but grinned in amusement.
"You're more Slytherin than some Slytherins I know, and my mother has trained me since birth to marry up. Please?"
"If I thought our marriage would be a long one without a planned death involved, I'd consider it." He winked playfully, Draco doing his flailing thing again and even getting a sympathetic look from Nott.
"I promise not to Black Widow you, you're far too devious to fall for it."
"Ah, but I might Black Widow you if I get bored. Will you keep me entertained, Blaise?" He hummed far too innocently.
"I am in love," Blaise was far too loud in declaring that, and most of the upper years were smirking darkly now.
"That means he's a better Black Widow than you," Nott pointed out quietly.
"So it does—so unfortunate all my training was for nothing." Blaise's mock 'despair' implying he was not bothered by it at all, in fact.
"I'd pay good money to see who kills each other first." A fourth-year chimed in from down the table.
"Same." Like six other people chorused, startling a laugh from Harry at the dark humor.
Draco flailed yet again, his face turning bright red. If anyone didn't know about his crush at that point (spoiler alert: they were Slytherins and already knew months ago) they certainly did now.
But suddenly, he was a lot less judged for it. He was Gryffindor… and the Boy Who Lived… but Harry Potter clearly wasn't who they thought he was, and Blaise, the Untouchable Slytherin, kind of had a point.
Even considering who he was, that would be a 'marrying up' kind of situation, so the Malfoy heir was very suddenly not such a clueless child who made poor choices in allies, and now more a keen snake who'd managed to sniff out one of the strongest players of his grade, got them on his side, and hadn't backed away from it despite the house pressure against him.
And that… did not make him a bad snake.
At all.
Montague was a bit thick and kind of an asshole even by Slytherin standards, but he was a good Slytherin. And their house was built off hierarchy… so the fact a first year Gryffindor took down a third year Slytherin so brutally (beautifully) meant he was not someone to mess with. Or… at the very least simply someone you had to handle with all your wits about you…
…like you would a fellow snake.
Huh.
"Nott, this is literally four hundred times more than you've said in my presence all year and I'm dying here." Harry complained, beseeching the guy across the table who had finally closed his book and was actively participating in the conversation now, and the boy sighed as if very put upon.
He paused another couple seconds as if giving it some last minute thought, before seeming to come to his decision.
"You're weird, and a bad political move on every count." He paused again… but then smirked. "Call me Theo."
Harry had never felt so high in his life as he beamed at the boy across the table, who ignored him and opened his book once more to return to reading now that the imminent drama had passed…a small upturn to the corners of his lips.
Slytherins were cold-hearted bitches when they wanted to be, but they could read the tide better than anyone and go where they had the best chance of success. Harry felt powerful, as he'd forced the tide to move in his favor, and he could almost feel the attitudes around him shift.
Not an outcast any longer, but a player on their field that they'd treat like they treated with anyone of their own house.
Not just a Gryffindor amongst a nest of Slytherins… but Harry Potter.
And it took a freaking year to do it, but operation fox had bloody succeeded. They finally saw that Harry was here to deal with them… and they should be way more unnerved by that than any old Gryffindor.
The Boy Who Lived was just a title, a myth.
Harry Potter was the guy who was going to make their lives hard if they didn't watch their steps—and in true Slytherin fashion, he could almost feel the anticipation in the air around him, for what the next years would bring.
000
It was later that same day, late at night when he was hurrying back to Gryffindor tower to avoid being out after curfew after visiting McGonagall, that he ran into yet another dark hooded figure, this time at the end of a poorly lit Hogwarts hallway.
For as powerful as he'd felt only that morning, he suddenly felt very, very vulnerable.