Poppy Pomfrey had a way of disarming people with her charm. She was a lovely woman, cheery and honest to a fault, dependable and realistic. Full of compromise and understanding when being a team player, but true to her principles when needed. Easy to work with and easy to talk to, easy to trust and easy to get along with in almost any aspect. With a name like Poppy and her hair turning grey pretty early in life despite her definitely having earned it at her current age, it meant she'd been seen as a motherly figure for many years at this point, particularly due to her profession. Coming to Hogwarts had been a boon on her soul, and while many "feared" her for her strict nature and how she scolded these kids and teachers for reckless behavior, it was all par for the course of being what was, essentially, a school nurse. For a magical school for children learning to control their magic, so there was a lot that went into the role, but the image one conjured up in their head when you said the words school nurse instead of a medic was different, and that was just how it was.
She was fine with it.
Children minded her scolding and were unafraid to come to her for help on the most part as she wasn't one to tattle to their parents or be the one to dole out punishments if they got injured doing something they shouldn't. She didn't like when they got hurt, but on the most part she took them in with a chiding tisk, patched them up, and sent them on their way. If they asked no one else know about it, then no one else knew about it—she was a good confidant like that.
After all, she couldn't heal them if they wouldn't come to her to be healed, so being a confidant often took priority over being the responsible adult other teachers were burdened with being.
It was one of the things she selfishly loved about Severus Snape, in fact, though you'd never hear her say it aloud.
To fellow adults she was treated actually rather similarly to how the children did, as even to most teachers she was quite a bit older than all of them and had in fact treated them as students once upon a time. She looked good for her age and was still quite spry, but in fact the only person in the school older than her was Albus himself. Her first year as Hogwarts head mediwitch was actually Minerva's fifth year, if she recalled correctly.
So yes, she was quite old.
But she still had a lot of life in her, and it was in moments like these that it all came welling to the surface with a fire in her that she'd long since retired. It came roaring up from the depths of her soul where she'd attempted to bury it and suddenly a school nurse was not what came to mind if you'd happened to cross her as she stormed through the halls of Hogwarts towards her destination.
She didn't like to admit it, but at one time she'd been young and full of naïve vengeance on the world—a world that hurt people for no god damn reason and she'd been so sick of it as a young lady that when she'd taken up her wand to heal, she'd done it filled to the brim with wrath.
If Death were a man, there was a time in her youth she would've decked him for having the audacity to show his face to her, magic be damned she'd use her fist to do it.
And so, a regrettable part of her past was an irksome title of battle medic. Her actions, embarrassing as they'd been, had earned the title for her handedly, but she did her best not to bring it up or even think too much on it these days. In fact, it'd been years since she even remembered that part of her past at all, and that just was fine by her. She had retired many years ago, even before the latest so-called Dark Lord had showed his true colors.
She had told him that too, when he was but a boy in her infirmary and he'd asked her to join his cause.
She'd told him that again, when he was a man and had sworn not to harm innocents if she joined him now that he had power.
She'd told Albus that when he'd asked many years later, if she ever regretted turning down that offer.
She was retired, and if war could not change that, then nothing could.
That, however, did not stop pieces of it from bubbling to the surface every now and then, and it usually came in the form of a child who needed her. But then again, what was anyone but a child to her? Even Minerva who had grey in her hair now too, had once been a young teen sporting a broken arm from a particularly wild quidditch match in Poppy's wing what felt like yesterday. Severus the cruel dungeon bat they liked to call him, had been a crying boy who hadn't understood why his father refused to love him, nor why his housemates were so uncaring.
Poppy was a deceptive woman, as she could fool anyone with her charm into believing she was warm, and gentle. And in many ways, most days, she was.
But something inside of her was also ice cold. She knew, or rather she had learned in time, that you could not save everyone and everyone was but a child who did not understand why the world caused them pain. She could not save most of Slytherin from their parents, she could not save people like Remus Lupin whose illness was as incurable as it was excruciating, she could not save everyone on a battlefield of a thousand dying men and women and children—but she could save some. It was these heartbreaking realizations that caused her to retire to Hogwarts in the first place, where the some that she could save would at least be young enough to have it mean something in their lifetimes. If it meant also witnessing those she could not save be as young as those few she could, that was simply an agony she lived with.
If she had it within her finely trained skills to heal, she would. If it was within her power to help a child out of a bad situation, if she could save the one without risking the many others she was there to serve and protect, she would.
If she was not skilled enough to heal, they died. If she could not save a child from their lives, then they suffered and lived with it until they could find their own freedom… or, perhaps, they would not.
Those were the consequences she lived with, and she had for decades with an iron heart that was open to all.
So yes, she could deceive anyone into thinking she was warm, and gentle. But the kind of woman who could face these harsh realities was anything but.
Today, however… today was different. Today was not a situation in which she could do nothing.
Today was a day when she discovered she could do something.
And that up until this point, she'd been lied to.
She was an expert at dealing with reality as it came at her, but this was another thing entirely.
Because a healer healed all who needed it regardless of what side they were on, but a battle medic…
A battle medic did what needed to be done.
She wasn't an idiot. Well, she was for not realizing this sooner, but she wasn't so dumb as to not know who she was up against and how difficult that would truly be. For now, she would focus on what she could, and what was necessary.
So it was with wand firmly in one hand and a file in another that she tossed open the door to Minerva's office, and the woman startled a bit from where she was collecting her lesson plans for this, the first day of the school year.
"Poppy! You were not at breakfast, is everything alright?" Upon seeing her expression, Minerva quickly reconsidered. "What is it?"
"It is Mr. Potter, Minerva." The Transfiguration teacher was visibly alarmed, putting down her papers pointedly, but Poppy didn't give her a chance to speak. "I know you have your reasons, but you may be a bit blinded by your devotion to Albus—same as I've been, I admit." She walked forward and placed the file down in front of her old friend, who looked at it warily.
"My devotion? What is this?" She opened it and froze solid.
Poppy wrapped her arms around herself, wand still in hand and not about to go anywhere.
"He told me he was looked after." She confessed; the quiet, hurt tone telling all it needed to about who he was. "He told me someone examined him after that night… that the muggles he was left with were rough, but they were family and would do what was right." She wallowed a moment in the sheer audacity of those lies before gathering herself. "The boy is malnourished, Minerva, after only a couple months away from this school. And I…" She took a breath but honestly wasn't sure what to do with herself right then.
Minerva did though, and she was on her feet, looking furious.
"I told Albus they were the worst sort of muggles!" And through her fury, Poppy saw what she too felt—shame.
Shame that neither of them were either smart enough to see, or that they had seen and been stupid enough to not want to believe.
Because Albus had told them everything was fine, and he continued to tell them that Harry was just having a rough time with his relatives but he'd get over it like most children did and it didn't warrant their interference.
He was Albus to both of them, and had been for many decades now. And yes, he lied, because he was a clever man and he embodied all four house traits and they knew he lied but he'd always lied for the greater good, or so they were lead to believe.
Albus had not always done right, by Poppy. She'd disagreed with many of the things he'd done, but she was retired and here to care for the children of this school, and despite it all Albus had always had the same ultimate goal in mind despite how much she hadn't liked some of his choices or actions. They had spent so many hours over the years discussing what to do about children that needed help out of their homes, going over the painful details about how or why it was possible or impossible to save one child or the other… and always she'd thought him just as heartbroken as her when it became clear someone couldn't be saved. That when they resigned themselves to doing the best they could while the child was at Hogwarts in their care, it was because they had no other choice, and a small piece of themselves died with the hope of saving one more young life, every single time.
This though, this was blatantly obvious that Albus had meant to put a child in harm's way.
And he had lied to her when he said it was because they had no choice.
When Anastasia had sent over these notes last night, Poppy had gone over them dozens of times before retiring for the night, thinking every which way of how this could have happened. The magical core healing failing was definitely a new one, and she'd gone over Mr. Potter from top to bottom last night once he got to the castle, ensuring he had the right potions in hand, the right food in his stomach, and the right magical blocks back in place to correct this issue for the time being for classes before she let him out of her sight. She'd also done her own diagnostic spells to double check how he was healing from the cruciatus, and was thankful all the damage from that at least was gone.
She could tell when she'd told him that, he'd been surprised if just not believing her. As much as it pained her she understood—unfortunately the magical damage that curse could inflict wasn't something you could feel. The mental and emotional damage could make it worse of course, but it could heal even while your heart refused to let go of it.
And one look at him and she knew he had in no way let go of it just yet.
But, that was for her to fix over the coming months, what needed to be dealt with come morning was the malnutrition.
Harry had been relatively healthy when he arrived at Hogwarts last year and even the expected dip in appetite given what happened in June couldn't account for this amount of weight loss. He did not like his relatives clearly, but they hadn't been outright abusive so far as Poppy was aware, although his Slytherin tendencies proved they probably weren't enjoyable people. Both she and Albus had known they weren't enjoyable people, but they were family, and Albus had explained the blood wards for why it was necessary the boy be with them. She wasn't happy about it, but the clinical side of her wasn't concerned about Harry's mental health so far as his physical health at the time—and by the start of his first year at least both seemed decent. Especially compared to the fact before he'd entered her hospital wing she'd had at least two dozen other children who'd been hiding broken bones since the end of summer, trying to sneak into her wing for some relief without anyone knowing about it. Compared to his classmates, Harry had been just fine even if he wasn't being spoiled, or even enjoying his time with his relatives. We did not always get what we wanted after all, and she knew that with a brutal familiarity.
This though… outright starvation as Anastasia implied was a whole other level entirely. That wasn't just abusive, that was positively lethal if you weren't trained to understand just how long someone could go without food, if say, you were looking for information.
For a child though, it could go from a punishment to murder in a shockingly quick amount of time and it set every nerve in her body off. She resigned herself to accept a lot of truly horrible things, and yes she considered herself a ruthless person for it, but the one thing she would not do was openly and willingly let a child die.
Blood wards meant to protect against the dark lord's followers meant nothing if the boy was already dead.
Admittedly she did not follow up with Mr. Potter after that night Albus had taken him to his muggle relatives—he and Minerva had come back from that trip, with the Transfiguration teacher quite distressed about the whole thing. She'd voiced her concerns about the muggles, while Poppy had chimed in about getting the boy medical treatment for whatever it was that had happened… but Albus had soothed their fears with so many assurances, and the war was finally over and they were so ready to be happy that they'd just… hadn't brought it up again. Minerva likely trusted Albus enough to believe in his word on good faith, but Poppy had at least been willing to let the matter rest if it meant they would finally be at peace. She had been so ready for peace and for the death and torture to stop, so lost in the grief of the news about Peter, Sirius, Lily, James, the children she'd once right there in her hospital wing… she was so ready to be happy for once that she was probably too hasty to accept that it was all finally over. And then when he'd seemed relatively in one piece when he finally arrived at Hogwarts, it was like she'd just reaffirmed her beliefs that Albus was right and there was nothing to worry about.
That was her mistake. She should've dug in harder, she should've set eyes on the boy herself that night, she should've asked more probing questions when he first got to Hogwarts since she'd always suspected those relatives of his to be questionable.
But she hadn't, and she would likely never forgive herself for it.
Because those assurances had been nothing but lies, and she now had proof because she'd taken this file to Albus that morning—even casting a glamour so he only saw the clear signs of neglect the malnutrition proved—and he'd tried to give her assurances again. Tried to tell her that he was a growing boy and whatever other bullshit he'd spouted—she'd honestly stop listening as she locked down on her occlumency shields and gave him worried, but understanding smiles as she'd escaped his office. Like she had the other thousand times she'd been concerned for a student and wanted to see what could be done about it with a source who always seemed to know more about the situation.
Because she had always thought Albus understood where she was coming from and when he said nothing could be done, then it really couldn't be done and they'd have to do what they coulddo for the time being.
This though? This was proof that a child needed help and whatever reason Albus had given her before just didn't matter anymore—it wasn't like they were connected purebloods or dangerous people who'd threaten other children if they got involved, they were just muggles and they were blatantly going to kill Harry Potter if they didn't do something. Death Eaters did not pose as much of a threat in this day and age as these guardians themselves, and it should've been clear cut enough for a change to be made.
They'd done it before, in fact, with even more dangerous parents as their opponents than a couple of muggles when a situation changed suddenly like this.
But the Headmaster had given her excuses and suddenly everything was clear.
And the blinding light of harsh reality always hurt like nothing else, but she was not one to shy away from it and she never had been.
He'd been Albus for an upwards of fifty years now, but today he was Headmaster Dumbledore.
Because a battle medic did what needed to be done.
Necrotic flesh was sliced away without hesitation to save the living flesh attached to it. A limb poisoned or cursed was cut off, and that was that—in the heat of battle there was no choice but to make the cut and move on with haste. Connections meant nothing if they could be severed to save someone's life, and knowing the moment to not hesitate was what set her apart from her peers who still to this day made the mistake of trying to save everyone—and saving no one in the end.
She made her choice of who she would be saving, and it was not going to be the headmaster at the expense of a child, and that was it. Fifty years was a lot of time to waste on a mistake, but not an excuse to keep making it.
Make the cut, move on.
What was left to be seen, was if another cut needed to be made.
She narrowed her eyes at the woman in front of her, and made her demand.
"What will you do now that you know?" She asked, and Minerva frowned deeply at the paper in front of her, entirely disturbed.
"He has to have his reasons…"
"What reasons are worth putting an infant with a muggle family that hates magic?" Poppy lashed out automatically, and Minerva winced. She pulled back slightly, knowing that Minerva did not know about the blood wards, but since that excuse was utter bullshit in the end she didn't feel the need to bring it up now. "Anastasia Ludwig was a student of mine almost thirty years ago. She was the one who finally examined Mr. Potter, at request of Mrs. Malfoy." The teacher's head snapped up, surprise etched on her face, and Poppy knew why. "The Malfoys are well-connected, she tells me Mrs. Malfoy intends to interfere with the ministry watch they have on Remus Lupin, and ask him to reach out to the boy."
"That would be good." She allowed, taken off guard by that but not against it. "Remus has always been… hesitant, about reaching out. And knowing he was watched, and how that could put Harry in danger…" She shook her head rapidly to rid herself of the dark thoughts. "Well, my opinion on the blatant breaking of laws aside, it's not a bad thing if she's really willing to do it."
Poppy was not amused at how she refused to get to the point.
"Minerva, I'm telling you this because you and I are guilty of the same sin, and that means we must learn from it. Neither of us will be telling Albus about this."
As expected, the younger woman frowned deeply.
"I'm not sure… is that-"
Poppy didn't hesitate in whipping her wand up, and Minerva froze solid as she realized who she was up against. Many forgot, but Minerva wasn't so young when it happened to not remember the kind of witch Poppy Pomfrey had once been before she'd retired to Hogwarts, and she knew of the skill facing against her down at this moment.
"I will wipe your memory here and now, Minerva." Poppy announced, cold and matter-of-fact as only the truly clinically professional could be, and the teacher in front of her got very still. Minerva knew exactly what a battle medic was capable of, and she was acutely aware the Madam could do it before she could even twitch, much less attempt to move for her wand up her sleeve. So she just held very, very still as it sunk in what kind of situation this was.
"I will take all your memories of the boy here and now, if I do not think you are willing to protect him." She told her old friend ruthlessly, and Minerva's face darkened because she knew enough to know it was not a bluff in the slightest.
"…it would be cruel. Not even to me, who would have no memory, but to Harry…"
"No more cruel than life has been to him." Poppy gave a glare for all she was worth, her wand not so much as wavering. Steady as only a medic's hand could be. "I am a healer. I will do what needs to be done. I cannot face Albus on this, he has too many connections—and I taught him occlumency myself so I couldn't even get through his mind if I tried. You however… your mind is too open and if he is getting information on Harry through you, do not dare think our years of friendship will stop me from protecting a child."
No.
No, it absolutely wouldn't stop her.
And by Minerva's grave expression, she knew it too.
"Harry deserves to know Remus, I get that. I'm still not sure why Albus insists on these muggles… but if he can get away, and my silence will help…" She lifted her head and nodded pointedly, agreeing. "You have my word." She swore.
Both of them knew her shields were likely not good enough to stop Albus from looking if he tried, but she would at least make the attempt to be careful about meeting his eyes, at least until it was too late for it to be stopped.
Poppy measured her up carefully, weighing her options. Even now, she knew Minerva was still loyal to Dumbledore but… she also legitimately cared for Harry. It would really come down to what would give when the moment came down to it—Poppy would simply have to keep reminding her of this threat then until Harry was safe, and hopefully that in addition to her favor of the boy would at least trump the loyalty she felt to tell the Headmaster everything. She didn't have to actually go against Dumbledore, she just had to say nothing and let Narcissa Malfoy have her way.
Knowing the woman, it would only take the year most likely.
She could probably keep on top of this for at least that long.
With a reluctant decision to trust her old friend made, she lowered her wand pointedly.
"Good." She frowned, and Minerva winced as her tone communicated how her saying anything else than that she would obey probably would not have gone well.
"I understand your frustration… but you don't have to resort to threatening me, Poppy. I want what's best for Harry too." She complained lightly, still on edge as the threat was still there, and the Madam was still in full glory today and not to be tested with.
"And you sound like Albus when you say that." She snapped rather unkindly. "I'm starting to think no one actually understands what's best for Harry, and we should all stop trying to figure it out before it kills him." She snatched the folder on the desk back up and made to leave. She had the start of the year to prepare for, like they all did.
"Poppy I'm sorry." She called after her gently.
Sorry for believing the Headmaster all this time? For not stopping this sooner? Sympathizing because they were both in the same terrible boat of not having been the ones to catch this? For being too late to help? For not realizing they'd put their trust in the wrong person? For still feeling loyal to the Headmaster even after Poppy's warning?
Poppy didn't care.
"It doesn't matter." She clipped shortly as she stormed out of the office just as ferociously as she'd entered. To the empty hallway, she snarled an expression she hadn't worn in years. "There is no excuse."
000
"Am I doing this right?"
"Um…" Harry tilted his head to look at his reflection in the window next to them, and gave a wry smile. "Maybe try again?"
Neville sighed, and Harry laughed softly in the morning stillness.
It felt really… light.
"Thank you for trying though, this is nice." He got comfortable again and grinned as Neville's gentle fingers ran through his hair, undoing his attempt at a braid and starting again. He'd been incredibly nervous and hesitant when Harry first requested this randomly, but after the fifth attempt the awkwardness was gone and he was now just trying to get it right despite him literally never having tied a braid in his life before—also Harry acknowledged his instructions were probably not that helpful as he himself had learned everything by practice so couldn't really put it into words in a useful way.
"I don't mind if you don't mind your hair looking weird all day." Neville just mumbled lowly and Harry smiled widely at his petulance.
Neville was… warm.
The same way Draco was cool to the touch, like a balm of a cold breeze on a hot summer day, Neville was warm like a fire on a really frigid night. Maybe not even a roaring fire, but the churning embers that just glowed softly and kept you wrapped in a blanket near the fireplace when the wind was howling outside the window—bone-chillingly cold and ruthless but unable to penetrate into the safe little bubble of warmth around you.
He didn't ask why Harry was crying the night before, he just gave him a big hug and then got out of his own nice and cozy bed to probe him into cleaning up and getting ready for bed himself. Despite him being an awkward, shy person the entire time Harry had known him, he didn't even hesitate in pulling Harry back into his own bed and let him cry his eyes out until sleep finally came to end the terrible day he'd had and it didn't hurt as much when he had a bubble of warm around him protecting from the cold reality of the coming morning—and the frigid darkness of the past couple months.
He'd asked if it was really fine to bother his sleep like that, but Neville's simple answer only made him cry harder.
"You shouldn't cry alone—and if anyone hears they'll think it's from me and won't bother you about it, so it's okay."
For the hundredth time, but especially right then, Harry recognized that he really didn't deserve Neville.
When morning came, predictably he'd started up a bit violently from a nightmare—the only blessing was that he couldn't even remember what it was about by the time he sat up fully, but it was still ungodly early and he couldn't have been asleep more than a couple hours given the sun hadn't risen yet.
Or rather, they hadn't been asleep more than a couple hours since he was in Neville's bed and the blond was a light sleeper, so the sharp movement startled him awake too.
And then he proved once again that no one deserved Neville Longbottom when he'd just rubbed his eyes and greeted him with a:
"Happy start of term, Harry."
Not a 'are you okay?' or a 'was that a nightmare?', 'did you want to talk about it?'— nothing like that. Like he somehow just knew Harry didn't want to talk about it, like he knew Harry wasn't about to go back to bed, and rather than leave him to it and going back to sleep himself, he was already down to get up for the day with him despite the fact he'd never gotten up this early the entire past year.
Then again, maybe he did know.
Either way, they'd gotten up and ready for their start of term, but even then they'd beat breakfast being served by quite a bit so were just killing time down in the common room until the Great Hall opened. Neville wasn't overly fond of talking classes since there'd be a ton of that soon enough anyway, and clearly their holiday breaks were off limits so neither of them even came close to broaching that subject, so they'd kind of settled on easy, safe topics. Like the fact Neville was suddenly an inch taller in only a couple short months which was definitely noticeable as Harry hadn't grown a damn thing, and of course Harry's biggest change which was his much longer hair. That then developed into Harry randomly demanding Neville try to braid it for him and the poor blonde struggling through Harry's awful instructions of how to go about doing that, but the air was light-hearted enough that it wasn't unpleasant either.
"What did they say? About me missing the train I mean." Harry brought up, slightly nervous about coming close to talking about it but… after last night and this morning, he suddenly was safe in his knowledge that Neville would not push if he didn't bring it up himself first. And it was honestly a huge relief.
It was also safe to assume Neville would know—Harry called it his wallflower superpower, as he was usually present to witness the latest gossip since people tended to forget he was there when they talked. Which wasn't great, but it did come in handy in situations like this.
"Um… well, as you can probably imagine, Draco kind of… uh-"
"Made a scene." Harry put together, silently cursing the drama queen gently in his head.
"Yeah… so uh, the whole train knew pretty quickly you weren't there. But then he cooled it so everyone figured you'd managed to get a message to him to explain."
"I did. Something went wrong with the barrier and I got locked out on the muggle side, but they figured it out. Would not recommend missing the train though, it sucked." He sighed, and thankfully Neville just gave an agreeing hum.
"I… I know you don't want to talk about it, but you should know because people will probably ask. Susan in particular is waiting to ambush you." Neville warned and Harry tensed up. He managed to relax slightly as the fingers in his hair got more gentle, pulling faintly as if reminding him it was okay. "A lot of people tried to write you letters over break but they all got returned unopened. Mine too, and I was… well I asked Susan because I figured she might know, and apparently she'd been telling everyone your mail wards just blocked everyone."
Harry blinked in surprise, but despite not wanting to talk about the summer he knew that was unavoidable. Mood-ruiner as it was, he was thankful for the warning, so he didn't have to deal with Susan in his face out of nowhere at breakfast. Neville wasn't even phrasing it like a question he expected an answer to, it really was just a warning that he'd need to give Susan something so she'd leave him alone. Because Neville wouldn't push, but that did not hold true for anyone else.
He gave another light sigh, knowing that because of that, Neville was really the only person who deserved an answer.
Even a really edited one.
"My mail wards do block everyone but McGonagall right now, I should've mentioned that. My r-" he collected himself quickly and found a semblance of composure thanks to the gentle hands in his hair never even faltering despite his stiff posture and clear discomfort. "My relatives really don't like magic. So um… I'm thinking I'll keep my mail wards closed. The letters would've been nice but they don't like seeing magic or anything like that so… strange owls in their house wouldn't go over well. I mean, I didn't even keep Hedwig, I'm pretty sure she stayed with Draco most of the summer since she and his owl get along."
He winced, because most of that still felt like a lie despite being partially true.
Except that last part: that was a total lie because he was pretty sure Bastian hated Hedwig.
Either way, he really didn't like lying to Neville.
"How did Susan know my mail wards were blocking people?" He wondered aloud, more to change the topic than anything, and Neville gracefully accepted the switch.
"Her aunt is Madam Amelia Bones—she's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry, so it'd be easy to check something like that. Something weird she said, or I thought it was weird because she thought it important to bring up in the first place, was that Dumbledore was trying to get through your wards but couldn't get past the goblins."
Harry sat up, heart beating a little fast before calming… he already knew Dumbledore was after him, so this was… good news to hear it wasn't working. Or that the gold he'd paid to Gringotts was doing it'd job.
But it also raised several questions about how the wizarding world worked.
"So Susan just gets to know things that the Ministry does because her aunt does? Isn't that like, a breach of security or a conflict of interest? To tell your family members about things that go on at work, particularly a government job?" He frowned, and he heard the frown in Neville's voice behind him as he answered.
"Not particularly, why? Is that how it is in the muggle world?"
Well, that answers that. No wonder money and nepotism seemed to rule this world, if who you were related to could mean you had information not even other people in the Ministry itself did.
"Well yeah. In the muggle world if any worker but especially a government worker was found using what they knew of or had access to from work for personal use, or even telling a family member who might use it for their use, they could get in a lot of trouble. Pay huge fines or even go to jail." He offered and felt Neville's surprise.
"That's… huh." Clearly it was news to him, and he had no idea what to think of it. And Neville was one of the more reasonable pureblood wizards Harry knew, so that said a lot for the state of the wizarding world. It also spoke poorly to the assumptions most half-bloods or muggleborns might make—if a muggleborn didn't take advantage of things like this when they could out of the assumption it was illegal, or even just morally wrong as they'd been raised to think, they were already fighting with one hand tied behind their back compared to purebloods.
"I guess I should thank her for telling me about Dumbledore too. I wonder how she knew to check for that." He mused aloud.
"Do you not like Dumbledore?" Neville's innocent question almost made him white out in dizziness.
It was… several long minutes before he was able to answer, and thankfully Neville just let him do it, making several more attempts to braid his hair while Harry worked everything out.
"No." He finally answered, and his voice was actually level, to his surprise. "I really don't."
Neville didn't even question it.
"Well Susan's really observant… maybe she just could tell that and knew you'd want to know. I thought it was weird she'd tell me though." He commented lightly.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief at easy going, wonderful Neville Longbottom.
"She probably knew you'd talk to me first. And that if you thought it odd enough you'd bring it up to me."
"Really?"
Oh right— Gryffindor, not Slytherin. Thinking ten steps ahead and overthinking what every little message and word meant was not really something they did.
Which brings up why Susan of all people sent a message like that. You'd think as a Hufflepuff she'd wait to tell me herself.
"Well, that's what I would do, though I should check with her when I catch up to her to thank her." He deflected a bit.
"Are you going to sit with her at breakfast?" Neville wondered, and Harry felt a little bad that after everything Neville had done for him last night and this morning, he still though the second Harry got his swing back he'd abandon him to go chat with other houses.
As it was, he should check in on the Slytherin table for appearances sake. He knew he didn't look good at the end of last year, the last meal he'd had with them he knew he probably looked like a bloody mess and Blaise had undoubtedly told everyone about the potions he saw Pomfrey give him. Then he'd missed the train, Draco freaking out… after the Montague incident he'd started to look like a real person in their eyes and he hoped everything that happened didn't make them think he was weak all of a sudden. He'd proved he could play snake just as well as they could, so if they thought he was weak now they would not hesitate to prey on that like he was one of their own.
Which was a good thing, but also difficult in this situation. To be treated like one of them meant he was going to be treated like one of them, and if they smelt blood in the water he was in trouble.
So he needed to show his face over there with a mask in place again, he needed to do it as soon as possible, and most importantly he needed not to screw it up once he did.
No, most importantly he needed not to be a dick to Neville, who was literally saving him right now by being calm and warm and the most supportive friend Harry was an idiot for not realizing he'd been blessed with sooner.
Slytherin could wait; they'd lived this long without him and they could wait until he was good and ready to grace them with his presence once more. Blaise in particular might even enjoy that attitude, while the rest of them would at least appreciate it in some way.
"No way, I need a Gryffindor recalibration to start the year off before pestering other houses. Susan can come bother me if she wants to ask about my mail wards, at least for today." He said it like it was a joke, but he didn't just mean Susan either—rules applied for any particularly mother-hen-like Slytherins he knew of too.
"Oh good," Neville perked up, sounding cheered by that news. "You can meet the new first years then. Ron's sister started; she seems way more quiet though."
"Really?" His spirit lifted some, forgetting that he'd not only missed the train yesterday, but the sorting too. He hadn't so much as cared about the feast, but he'd once been excited about having underclassmen. He was a people person, or at least he used to be, and he was cheered that he could still feel some excitement about meeting new people despite everything. Last year had been wonderful for so many reasons, but the getting to meet all his now-friends and actually successfully work to develop relationships with people like Daphne (and Theo! Can't forget about that crowning victory!) had been so rewarding he relished in it even now.
"Who is not quiet though, was Colin—apparently he's a muggleborn and magic is all very new and entertaining to him which is kind of normal except he's got this camera and has been taking pictures of everything. He just jumps on you and demands to take your picture." Of course quiet Neville would be freaked out by that behavior but Harry grinned, looking forward to meeting the kid.
"I can't wait, although my hair will have to be nice if I'm getting a photoshoot!" Neville grumbled as he undid his last attempt and Harry laughed lightly. "Anyone else?"
"I'm sure you'll meet them all, as you do. But there was one girl who got sorted into Ravenclaw that had really funny earrings I think you'd like."
"Earrings?"
"I think they were radishes?"
Harry blinked, not quite sure what that meant that Neville thought he'd like radish earrings, but despite probably not wearing them himself he could likely get on board with the girl who was odd enough to wear them. He himself was pretty odd, to be fair.
"Can't wait to meet them," He smiled and whatever Neville was about to say was interrupted by movement from the stairs, and they looked over in equal surprise to the twin looks they were being given.
"Apples!" Fred and George cried out as one, before abruptly remembering it was early and dropping down into whispers.
"Heard you missed the train!"
"Gotta be a first—"
"—hope it was an adventure at least?" They greeted him happily.
He smiled, remembering how nice it was for people to be visibly happy to see you. And the twins never failed in the regard.
"An adventure, sure. Let's go with that." He scoffed dryly, and they snickered. "What are you two doing up so early?"
"Not that early…" One of them hedged.
"And if it's something to do with a start-of-term prank you didnot hear it from us."
They exchanged looks and grinned. "Unless our triplet would like to help?"
Harry glanced at Neville who seemed extremely wary about this concept but he figured a bit of mischief was just what the morning needed to stop feeling so mellow and cautious.
"Maybe a little mischief before breakfast?" He gave Neville his pleading eyes and the blond seemed to cave quickly—although very reluctantly when the implication was that Harry didn't want to go without him and that he'd not only need to agree to let it happen but also participate.
"I guess… but please just… a little."
The twins crossed their hearts dramatically.
"Just a little!"
Harry grinned and accepted whatever state his braid was currently in as he took Neville's hand to follow the twins on their latest adventure.