Sylvester,
Thank you for the contingencies you provided, I do hope to be able to react appropriately on your behalf when the time comes. I believe I understand what is not acceptable to you and will do my best to prevent any of it from coming to pass.
I have some good news and some bad news, but rest assured I am dealing with the new challenges that have arisen, it just may take longer than either of us are going to be too pleased by. I mentioned there are some who are vehemently in opposition of seeing this get-together take place, as I'm sure you can already name a few. The major issues are a Bonbon and a Lemon… I would've much preferred the Lemon never find out about this party until it was too late, but that was frankly wishful thinking. Lemons always know unfortunately: their hooks into government are even more expansive than mine. (I'm told they love paintings too.)
I have dealt in the help of the White parties, and they suggested a good work-around for the amount of power the Lemon has, at least for this situation. It is too sensitive even for coded letters such as this, so I've left it at Gringotts with your account manager if you could make a point to stop by over the holidays. It has also come to my attention the interference this particular Lemon has over vacation plans you may or may not have, so your request of the Moon to be a back-up to the Star may need to happen sooner rather than later. If you do not already have Christmas plans, Ms. Fields will be giving you an invite and I'll see to it you can view the Moon together.
The Bonbon is far less tricky, but it is quite troublesome in its own blunt way. I hope Ms. Fields has explained the concept of tagging people in this industry, and let's just say the Bonbon has nearly depleted itself by tagging people to prevent the gathering from proceeding. The Whites are some of the most prolific taggers when it comes to chocolates and have agreed to halt such activity for the time being so that the Bonbon may dry up eventually, but it'll take a while. I originally had a party date to share with you, however it's been canceled and postponed half a dozen times already for… managerial incompetence, shall we say. I won't get your hopes up until the date is as sure as I am possible of being.
I plan to spend the coming weeks doing plenty of tagging myself, and will reach back out perhaps over the holidays once you've had a chance to consider the gift I left at Gringotts for you. Never fear the lack of news in the papers—that's actually a good thing until the day of the gathering when the whole world will need to be aware what the Bonbon has done—I have something special in mind, considering your feelings on the matter. The more people involved in the discussion now, the less useful my tagging will be and the slower it will go. If we would like to have progress made by summer then once again, secrecy is our friend.
Best holiday wishes,
Fields
000
One good thing about working with Mr. Greengrass, was that Harry actually trusted the man to do what he promised he would, come hell or high water. He might be the only adult currently in his life right now that Harry actually believed to be both competent, and honest about his actions.
He was being well compensated after all.
Which was probably the beauty of working with full-blooded Slytherins he supposed, the beauty of trading rather than just… trusting someone at their word. You had to worry about motives and truthfulness if someone just promised you things, but if you were literally paying someone for a service then there was a more concrete assurance they would actually follow through. In most businesses even that wasn't ironclad, but in the Slytherin business… with the reputation the big grey families like the Zabini and Greengrass names had, Harry finally had faith someone was doing something and that they were actually going to keep their word about it.
It would probably cost him an arm and a leg when the debt finally came due, but for now… he was relieved he had someone in his corner who was just doing things on his own in order to achieve one of Harry's own goals, and Harry himself could actually just go to class like normal without worrying about it.
The letter was very insightful even if Harry had already suspected that some of that would happen when he first decided that Sirius Black needed a trial. They avoided saying the word 'trial' in the letters as that was a red flag for any eavesdroppers for sure, and Harry was amused by the other code names they'd come up with. He had no idea who the White parties were, but since Mr. Greengrass was the one dealing with them on his own, and Harry trusted him to be as confidential about it as possible, it didn't truly matter though he was certainly curious. He himself had come up with the Dog Star on a play off his godfather's name, and the Moon was self-explanatory as the only werewolf in the situation.
He thought himself pretty clever for thinking up Sylvester though; he picked it on a whim, but he rather liked it. If he were referencing Sirius Black by a play off his name, with an animal theme of a dog no less, it made sense to try and be an animal himself. He had never even considered what his spirit animal would be if he had one, but his favorite professor was a cat and you know… cats and dogs, they kind of went together….
And if a pureblood (mainly a Slytherin) managed to get their hands on these papers and somehow knew enough about old-fashioned muggle cartoons to know who the hell Sylvester James Pussycat Sr. was, they frankly deserved to eavesdrop on these conversations. He was less concerned over the muggleborns figuring it out as they were, generally, more likely to be on board with getting an untried man sitting in prison his day in court.
'Bonbon' was also easy as Harry already knew the confectionary-named Minister of Magic would hate the idea of a trial for an innocent man he'd sent to Azkaban: from the start he'd fully expected that man to be his number one enemy in getting the trial to see the light of day. 'Lemon' was much harder, as while context clues told Harry that Mr. Greengrass was probably talking about Dumbledore, he had no clue why the Headmaster got pegged with that codename.
Maybe because I pressed my lips unpleasantly like I'm eating something sour every time the old bastard is brought up.Ha…
Dumbledore getting wind of this was not a good sign, but the only saving grace is that he hadn't connected that Harry himself was involved in it. He'd explained his priorities to Mr. Greengrass and had been very clear that he wanted out of Dumbledore's thumb if possible, which was one of the driving forces (that he would admit) for getting his godfather back instead of being put with muggles on the Headmaster's orders. Harry having any autonomy or power in Dumbledore's eyes was probably going to be seen as a threat to whatever his own plans were, plans that involved Harry being a pawn and little else given how hard he'd been trying to cast him in an 'idiot Gryffindor hero' type role. Therefore, hopefully Mr. Greengrass would take the hint that the Headmaster could not know that Harry was the one who initiated this.
There were tons of reasons the Greengrass family could be trying to get Sirius Black out of prison, the most obvious and technically true reason being they were being paid to do it on behalf of someone else. Given Harry hadn't really shown his true colors to Dumbledore yet, and the man still thought him a hapless Gryffindor clone of his father, there was no reason for him to assume Harry was the one paying him to do it so long as Mr. Greengrass kept his employer quiet. There could be a hundred other interested parties… like say the Malfoys even, given Narcissa was his cousin and had openly admitted she'd had half a thought to try and free him herself over the past decade. It hadn't been convenient enough for her, but paying the Greengrass family to take care of it would certainly be easy, as the Malfoys definitely had the money to splurge on it. Dumbledore probably knew before they set foot into Hogwarts that he was friends with Draco, and would obviously know about the Malfoys going grey… it was only too logical to make the assumption that the recklessly rich pureblood elites were tossing some money at the Greengrass family on a whim to butter up their son's best friend, entirely without Harry's input.
Maybe there were death eaters who thought Sirius Black one of them and wanted to see if it was true or not. Maybe Sirius himself, as an ex-heir to a really wealthy line had managed to get a message out to the Greengrass family himself. There were a lot of more plausible reasons that the Headmaster could jump to and then waste time investigating, before it'd ever cross his mind that a twelve-year-old Potter from one of the lightest bloodlines had made a name-debt to a very prominent Slytherin family in exchange for their help.
That is, so long as Mr. Greengrass kept it quiet and Harry acted like he knew nothing for the time being.
Which, on that topic, the comment about paintings really got him paranoid as why would it need to be specifically called out that Dumbledore liked paintings? Particularly right after talking about how connected the old man was… and the fact that Hogwarts had thousands of talking paintings that could move frame-to-frame literally lining the Hogwarts hallways made him very, very nervous. Was Mr. Greengrass really implying that the paintings were spies? Were all of them spies!?
Harry desperately tried to think if he ever had a conversation he didn't want Dumbledore to know about in a Hogwarts hallway. The twins' and the map happened outside in Hagrid's pumpkin patch, his confessions with Neville always happened in the dorm or common room where the only paintings were of lions that just roared thankfully… at least he hoped they didn't talk. Or that there wasn't a parselmouth equivalent that could speak to lions walking around.
The Slytherin common room had natural landscapes and the dungeon hallways were actually just blank walls now that he thought about it… and suddenly Harry wondered if that wasn't very much on purpose given how important secrecy and private conversations were to the snake house. It was another point of proof that maybe paintings being the Headmaster's ears was maybe true, and… oh god.
Ugh, that was going to make him even more paranoid than he already was, he was sure.
On the bright side, he was at least comforted by the measures Mr. Greengrass seemed to be working on. Daphne had mentioned that 'tagging' just meant 'bribing' people in a more polite way, and while it kind of shocked him that Fudge himself as Minister of Magic was bribing people, in hindsight he didn't know why he hadn't already assumed that was the case of every politician in this nepotistic world. Probably because he was still a Gryffindor at heart who was raised by muggles where, in the muggle world, if a politician was that blatant about their corruption they'd typically get more shit than 'yeah he does that sometimes'. Not all politicians were punished in either world for their misdeeds, but muggle politicians at least gave an honest go of belying an honest front so people didn't get too pissed. How blatant this bribery seemed to be was… alarming.
If 'other chocolates' meant other politicians, then there seemed to be a very complicated web of bribery going on, and because he was clearly MVP of Harry's life right now, Mr. Greengrass was dropping some money in bribes as well to get in on it and combat Fudge's meddling until the asshole ran out of money to cover his mistakes with. Harry knew he didn't have the mental fortitude or energy right now to get into which politicians were bribing who and what or why, so it was a huge relief that someone else was just taking care of it for him.
It also showed how very important a name-debt actually was, given this was probably no small amount of money, effort, and risk being spent on this request of his. The risk it posed alone was telling, particularly for a notoriously neutral grey family (who somehow stayed out of the last war and to whom not even Voldemort would touch) actually going head-to-head with the Ministry for once was huge.
Harry wanted to be worried about what he'd end up needing to do to repay all this someday but… honestly he was at capacity so he'd deal with that later.
Hopefully decades from now when he was an adult with something the Greengrass family would bother wanting from him. If he became Minister of Magic someday since that was already the plan, hopefully it'd be a matter of maybe changing some laws they found inconvenient—that wouldn't be the end of the world, he supposed.
But let's not think about that right now or I'll explode.
More pertinently for his immediate future versus his far-off future: Christmas with Remus.
If he was interpreting the letter correctly, Mr. Greengrass wanted him to get to know Remus as soon as he was able to, for some reason. Not that Harry was going to argue that as he very much wanted to get to know the man too, but he'd still been waffling over staying at Hogwarts for break or actually convincing his unrecognized godfather to let him visit. He'd dropped hints in his letters but Remus had very purposefully not responded to any of them, and given his situation and how they wanted to keep their contact secret, Harry had felt bad imposing on him when he clearly had a lot of baggage about it.
Given that he struggled to maintain a job, Harry suspected he had very little to his name. He also knew he had the pride of a Gryffindor and was humiliated to need to admit that, or ask for help or anything. Harry didn't even know if he had a house that he could even visit, which is why he'd hesitated in pushing too far and putting the man in that awkward, frankly mortifying situation of needing to confess that. That he was a grown man being forced to confess that to a twelve-year-old probably made it a lot worse, and Harry knew he'd never be able to convince Remus of how much he did not care about shit like that.
The werewolf was also very intensely self-depreciating and far too nice (read: skittish) about 'forcing' his presence on others who may not want a 'dark creature' around. The effect was multiplied tenfold when it came to anything about Harry, now that he'd done the unforgivable thing of telling the truth that he needed their relationship to be quiet for the sake of his future and his Slytherin friends.
On one hand Harry was happy Remus was so totally in support of whatever antics he was up to right now… on the other hand he felt like a piece of shit because he suspected Remus was already completely prepared to hide their connection for his sake from the beginning, and asking him to actually go through with it felt filthy and wrong. Even if it was for very practical reasons. Practicality did not mean he in any way felt good about what he was doing.
All of that meant Harry didn't want to just… demand to visit him, when he was already inconveniencing the man quite a bit. He sure as hell wanted to obviously, but he'd been very conflicted about actually doing that to Remus on top of everything else. Not to mention the logistic nightmare it'd be, given Dumbledore would probably not remain out of it if he suspected Harry had any other options but the muggle relatives he'd chosen to place him with. He wanted Dumbledore nowhere near Remus and so if he did visit the werewolf he needed to be sure the Headmaster never knew about it. Not until Sirius was free and situated as Harry's new legal guardian to prevent the old man from interfering with what he did with his summers, at least.
He hadn't been confident he could actually do all that though, which is yet another reason he hadn't pushed harder.
Now… if Mr. Greengrass wanted it, he couldn't exactly argue given it was probably connected to getting Sirius his day in court, even if Harry had no idea how. It was literally the least he could do, to go along with the man's plan that he was giving so much effort to on his behalf… and if he was going to be making sure who Harry was really visiting remained secret, Harry actually had faith he could make this visit without Dumbledore knowing!
He wouldn't have been able to make that opportunity for himself, but if Mr. Greengrass was asking him to do this and clearing the way for him, his other hesitations seemed far less important. Even if the worst scenario came true and Remus didn't have someplace to go, Harry still owned that apartment in Contrair Alley until the end of the year and they could have their holiday there. But Harry wasn't going to take Remus' nerves or self-depreciation as an excuse anymore.
Mind resolved, he immediately began mentally drafting the letter he was going to write to his godfather, entirely sure he could convince the man to cave and spend Christmas with him. Kind as he was, Remus was also sort of a doormat and Harry knew he himself had a far more forceful personality if he turned his worse habits all the way up to eleven: he could totally do it.
He was only part way through when he froze, realizing…
Wait… this is a real Christmas? I get to have a real Christmas with someone?
Last year had been the best Christmas in his entire life by a lot and he didn't even have Neville or Draco beside him. He'd been so caught up in the 'legal guardian' thing that he kind of skimmed over the idea that, if he weren't at Hogwarts or at the Dursleys, he'd be…
Well he hadn't ever had a conversation with Sirius Black, much less met him to know what to expect with that. Same went for Remus technically, as he hadn't yet laid eyes on the man but at this point he felt like he knew the guy from their many letters. Enough to be able to manipulate him into saying yes to things at least, which was very tellingly one of Harry's metrics for how well he knew someone or not.
And since he knew Remus, to a point, that meant he could almost picture actually… having a Christmas… somewhere.
With someone. Who he'd wake up on Christmas morning with and actually want to wish them a good holiday. Who'd open presents with him and have Christmas breakfast and do… holiday things.
Oh my god what do you do on holidays? I mean I know what you're supposed to do but what are we going to do?
He was… kind of thrilled all of a sudden. This was happening, it wasn't just a possibility or something he was plotting: with Mr. Greengrass' help this was the plan, and when school let out and everyone went home on the carriages, he'd be right there with them!
He couldn't tell anyone he was going anywhere except whatever excuse Daphne was going to provide to him, but he could at least be comforted by the knowledge he was going home to family like everyone else was.
He felt both light as a feather and terrified—not in a bad way this time. Kind of like when his broom almost bucked him off at a couple hundred feet in the air: scary but also like someone was winding up a key on his back so he could go buzzing around the room in senseless happiness.
He just… got up from his desk and paced around the dorm room like he wanted to start packing but also had no idea what he should pack right now, anxious but in a great way and unsure where he should put his hands.
If he recognized Neville was looking in amusement at him from where he'd been reading on his bed, he didn't show it.
000
"It seems you've kept true to your word in not rushing ahead." McGonagall nearly praised him in that strict way of hers as he completed what felt like his hundredth spellwork drill before her narrowed eyes.
Just like last time, every single spell he'd performed had glowed the telltale blue of a correctly performed spell… although he hadn't informed her about the joke book spells he now knew too. He knew those were at least fourth year spells that she wouldn't be too happy to hear he'd been doing on his own, but in Harry's head if he could do them even with one remaining block on his magical core, then how hard could they really be?
He would let her know he knew them another time, and just leave out the part about when he learned them. For now he just beamed up at her widely and gave his best puppy dog eyes.
"I promised I would! Did you really doubt me that much? When have I ever broken a promise when it came to my health?" He demanded, only half-jokingly. It really didn't make much sense, how she never seemed to trust him despite him having over a year of dedicated work under her, never once breaking her rules… even if he really, really wanted to sometimes. At the very least she didn't know about any rules he may or may not have broken for her to always be leaning towards narrowing her eyes at him instead of just trusting him.
He had heard the warnings about his magical core loud and clear and had no desire to go pop one day so he'd really taken them to heart! More so than anything else about his health, in fact, yet she still acted like he was only telling her 'yes' to appease her while doing whatever he pleased.
She pressed her lips together, also seeming to recognize that valid point.
"I suppose you haven't. You have unfortunate luck, but I can agree it has never been your fault." She allowed a tad gentler than she normally was, and he straightened up slightly in triumph. "Perhaps it is also that unfortunate luck that your father was one of the worst troublemakers I ever had the honor of teaching… old habits die hard I'm afraid and if I were not on my toes at all times with him then Gryffindor house would likely not be standing today."
Harry… was taken aback slightly, but had to smile despite it being a lot less wide than it'd been a minute ago.
McGonagall hadn't really ever talked about his parents before, aside from mentioning his father's prankster habits and his mother's intelligence in very passing ways. Part of him liked that, as she treated him as his own person from the start, not just a remnant piece of two long-dead people like a lot of other adults did—Harry had even caught Hagrid doing it although you couldn't get angry at Hagrid. He was Hagrid.
This time though, he didn't hate it as much. The reminder that she knew his parents way better than he did, didn't sting quite as much as it did last year.
I wonder why.
He pressed his lips, wondering if he would hate to ask more about them. Normally conversations about back then… did not make him happier. At least not as happy as he always hoped learning about his parents would. There was still too much… baggage, he supposed, for it ever to feel quite as light as talking about quidditch or his friend or Transfiguration.
Still. He hadn't had as many opportunities to hang out in McGonagall's office this year as he had last, since he seemed busier than ever, particularly now that he was allowed into the Slytherin common room his politics had been getting stronger. His connections with the rest of the school were only ever increasing so there was always someone to bother, not just his favorite professor. Besides, he'd come insanely far in Transfiguration so he didn't need to be in here every day asking questions about how things worked anymore: now he had a base understanding of his own and only visited when he wanted to spit ball new ideas or argue with her about some new piece of information he'd found on his own (he'd also started reading that dark Transfiguration book as his new frontier of discovery and that was never going to be something he let her know he was looking into) so with less to talk about, there were overall less visits.
He didn't talk to her as often as… as maybe he'd like to even, so the opportunities to actually talk about something like this were much rarer. He still wasn't sure if he was ready but… he was still curious and today was a good day, so he gave it a shot.
"Was he really that bad? Like, Weasley-twins level bad or…?" He lead her. She sighed, not… unwillingly exactly, more like she had a lot of memories assault her at once and they all had a slightly bittersweet tinge to them.
"I would venture to say Mr and Mr. Weasley are worthy successors, but your father was a in league of his own. He had more help, I should say." She offered, but he saw her eyes flicker to the side.
Indecision.
Harry realized she knew damn well about Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. She both had known them as students, as well as knew the story that everyone believed how those four had ended up, at least.
And he knew about the map so… yeah, Fred and George were a team of two pranksters, but as a team of four Harry was sure that the 'Marauders' as the map called them were in a league of their own.
He got that she still saw him as a twelve-year-old, despite being willing to talk Transfiguration with him like he was an adult, a peer even, but her strict concern about his health and part of the reason she'd been so easily manipulated into defending his paper for him last year, was that she also saw him as a child. He understood why, even now, she was not bringing up Peter Pettigrew or Sirius Black to him. It was a brutal story to hear for a child… as if learning that Voldemort had killed his parents and genuinely tried to kill him was any better, though he also get that he needed to know about that since everyone else around him did.
Only people like Daphne knew about the horrible crimes Sirius Black supposedly committed, because her family was connected to information like that, but while everyone attending Hogwarts as a student knew about him being the Boy-Who-Lived, very few would know about Sirius Black without someone filling them in. While he still thought someone should've told him about what the man supposedly did in the same conversation they were informing him about Voldemort, he also realized those were two different urgency-levels of information that an adult looking at a child might feel the need to edit.
Also, Hagrid had been the one to tell him, and again, you couldn't get mad at Hagrid.
He could totally get mad at Dumbledore for sending Hagrid of all the people to be his magical-world tour guide as, despite how much he loved the gentle giant, Hagrid was not a trusted resource for a lot of things. He was also technically, legally not allowed to use magic so… what the fuck.
No, I already know Dumbledore had a long game and manipulating Hagrid was part of it.
He brushed that off as old news—he'd already been angry about it but at this point there was nothing to be done.
His opinion on it aside, he understood at least why McGonagall and all the other adults he'd crossed paths with who had once known his parents hadn't told him about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew.
What Harry didn't know was why she wasn't saying anything about Remus right now.
She didn't know that he already knew about all these people, so he couldn't exactly just ask outright or anything. There was also the fact that he hadn't told anyone except Neville about Remus just yet, and it kind of had to stay that way for the foreseeable future. As much as he liked her, McGonagall was still way too close to Dumbledore and it only took one 'oh it's nice to see Harry connecting with his father's old friends' in a passing conversation for not only his own plans, but potentially whatever plans Mr. Greengrass was working on to be completely ruined by that old Lemon's interfering.
He couldn't risk it.
"Did he have a lot of friends?" He faked his best innocent look, before dropping it onto a frown. "Was he one of the Gryffindors who hated other houses? Something Hagrid said made me think that."
"He did have a lot of friends," She admitted, wincing a bit. Good, he didn't want her elaborating on James Potter's friends, because if she did decide to tell him about them, Dumbledore would know he knew which would still cause problems. Mostly for Remus, probably, as basically the only remaining ex-friend still alive and walking free right now. "I don't think he 'hated other houses' precisely, but I do know he got into many spats with the Slytherins during his stay here, if that's what you're getting at."
Harry made a show of pouting deeply at that, so she would in no way miss how unhappy he was with his father over that behavior. She seemed slightly uncomfortable, which is exactly what he wanted.
"You are certainly unique Harry, in having so many friends within all four houses. It was a different time back then when the two houses' rivalry was at its worst." She defended her old student rather halfheartedly. "The fact the war was still going strong I'm sure did no one any favors."
That… was a slightly good point. He couldn't claim to understand what living in a time of war was actually like, as despite him being an orphan being the price for it, he was blessed with only having lived during a time of peace. Again, opinions aside he could at least understand there not being a ton of Gryffindor-Slytherin friendships, if at all, given the harshness of what Voldemort was capable of and the world he may have created.
He pouted further. "Was my mom like that too?"
McGonagall actually smiled this time, losing her discomfort some. "Not at all; she wasn't nearly as invested in the rivalry, and from what I saw made some good attempts at being a diplomat between the two when she got a chance. I believe she had some early friendships with a Slytherin or two as well, although… it did not last from what I saw."
Harry blinked.
Mom …
Something… warm, filled his heart. He wasn't weird at all for befriending a Slytherin… he just took after his mom?
For some reason it made him… indescribably happy, but unspeakably sad at the same time.
The worst part was, he knew exactly how it had fallen apart. If it'd been anyone but him and Draco, he wasn't sure they would've made it half as far as they had, after all. The fact he was a Transfiguration prodigy and also a Gryffindor that probably should've been in Slytherin was the only reason the snake house accepted him now… but in the middle of a war? For Lily Potter the muggleborn?
She was up against far too much without the luck and fame and bloodline her son now possessed to ever survive those odds and remain friends with another younger-year Slytherin who was probably just as powerless as Draco was right now. Except Draco was also heir to the richest family in Britain and had the complete support and love of his parents… which was not something pretty much any other Slytherin had.
He could tell by how Blaise spoke about his mother—in a tone beyond reverence, and closer to terrified obedience sometimes.
He could tell by how closed off Theo was, and mere rumors Harry had heard about the boy's death eater father. How even under the promise of educating him on Slytherin politics, Daphne had delicately danced around the implication of how Lady Nott had died.
Hell, he could tell by how Daphne spoke about her father like a business partner, like he was a tool for her own use—just as she probably was to him. Maybe she didn't fear him but it certainly wasn't the father/daughter duo he would hear about if he asked Hannah about her dad, for sure.
No… Draco very noticeably had parents who loved him dearly.
And if family situations were the only thing that mattered, then Draco should've been in Gryffindor and Harry should've been in Slytherin.
So no, Draco was a special Slytherin as he was a good snake who also had support and wasn't fighting the world alone like everyone else around him was. Yes he'd chosen wrong by being friends with a Gryffindor, but he had every other advantage possible to survive the backlash that would bring upon him.
Lily Potter's Slytherin friend… likely had none of that.
Maybe they'd been like Theo or Daphne. Maybe their parents would've beat them senseless for daring speak to a Gryffindor all the while Slytherin house shunned them entirely (maybe they would lock them in a shed to rot). Maybe their parents would just cut them out of family deals and training as they'd proven they couldn't make good judgements (maybe they would call them a freak). Maybe they were a half-blood or, god forbid, a muggleborn with no protection and were hexed and harassed by their own housemates, their own dorm mates while they tried to sleep safely in their own bed until they couldn't take it anymore (maybe they were an orphan with no one to help).
Maybe they also tried… until surviving the snake house became far more important than being friends with Lily Potter—a muggleborn no one.
Yeah… Harry saw exactly how it had ended.
But, his mother had tried.
Just like he was trying now.
Just like Draco was trying, no matter how he struggled sometimes.
It simultaneously broke his heart but also filled it with warm, expansive air that seemed to chase the chill from his fingertips. He didn't like thinking about how close him and Draco had actually come to not being able to beat the odds, but he was thankful that, despite what it felt like sometimes, they were the lucky ones in this situation. It still felt like there was a whole ass mountain in front of them that they needed to move, but they actually had the tools and the help to do it—which clearly, was not something everyone had gotten.
He'd only ever considered himself lucky in a darkly morbid kind of way. Lucky that Voldemort hadn't killed him, though he still lost his parents. Lucky the troll hadn't crushed him, it just broke half his bones instead. Lucky Quirrell hadn't murdered him, he was just tortured and scarred for life as the price paid.
Lucky he'd gotten out of that shed. Lucky that he had the atmosphere bulbs and extra food and water prepared so that he didn't starve or die of heat stroke in the mid-June heat… so that he could live in complete darkness for months and then live with that aftermath.
Yeah… when he considered how lucky he was, it was never in a good way.
Now though, finally… he considered himself lucky in a way that he'd gotten blessed with everything he needed to keep Draco.
Going into Hogwarts first year not knowing anything, he'd gone in with brash confidence that he'd make it work and Draco would tag along or they just weren't meant to be friends… with over a year of experience with the snakes though, he now knew how insurmountable a challenge he'd inadvertently set Draco up for, but somehow the two of them were still able to do it.
That was nothing but pure, dumb luck… and for once, it was entirely in his favor.
It lifted his spirit a lot.
"Do you know who her friend was?" He had to ask, he had to know if they were still out there…
Her expression shut off some, but gave him a rather wry look. "Unfortunately, I'm sure they would not appreciate me sharing that with you."
The decline was polite but firm. So… they were still alive, for one, and the relationship was probably very much over given whatever had happened between them. Harry was pretty sure he could guess how ugly it had been too, so he couldn't even fault the person, whoever they were, for wanting nothing to do with Lily Potter's son now.
They were also someone McGonagall cared about not upsetting, so she was going to keep their secret, which was interesting. Not that it narrowed it down, as she could know tons of people he didn't from how long she'd been teaching here, but they weren't completely gone from her life either if she still cared that way.
"I guess that makes sense," He sighed in defeat, and she tilted her head at him, curious.
"Does it?"
"I mean yeah. Being friends with Draco was hard enough, because Slytherin is really into the politics of things like I told you." He shrugged.
"You did mention something like that…"
"You're probably right it was even worse during a war so like, I get it. There's a million reasons Draco and I were lucky enough to be friends openly but it's not something a lot of people would get to do, especially not before."
"I didn't realize it was so serious." McGonagall frowned, genuinely seeming to mull it over. "I admit I've never fully understood how Slytherin operated, although through our talks I'm realizing it's much deeper than I assumed."
Which, said a lot given how long she'd been working here… decades, easily, and the snake house was still a mystery to her? At some point it was because she'd chosen not to look or try to understand, which wasn't a good thought for him to think about his favorite teacher but… she was a Gryffindor.
Choosing or just not believing that there were those different from you was one of the lion's house absolute worst bad habits.
But it was also further proof that Harry was definitely her favorite, because now she was starting to question and be curious about the snake house, only because of their conversations together? Nothing in the past several decades or even her own time at Hogwarts had ever caught her interest or curiosity before?
No, it didn't matter… he was already biased to like her so he was just going to ignore that previous bias of her own, and jump at the chance to catch her up to speed if she was willing to listen to him now.
"It really is! I mean there are a lot of children of death eaters in Slytherin so the fact I'm Harry Potter should mean they hate me for life, but then you have Draco, whose got everything and is able to balance it out sort of. Like they care about status and information a lot and Draco got tons of training from his parents to know stuff in advance, he's pureblood and has money and reputation and he's Professor Snape's godson so no one can bully him for being friends with me. I've also learned how to be polite and with being good at Transfiguration I can trade my notes for information from them which they like, so they're chill with me now and don't bother us as much as last year." He explained, kind of in a rush.
He wasn't about to go very deeply into things as the deeper you got, the more he knew the Gryffindor she was would start to turn her nose up at some things, but as a brief introduction that was good enough. Particularly since she seemed very alarmed by all that already.
"How… interesting." She cleared her throat, obviously not sure how to take all that. "To be honest I didn't know Mr. Malfoy was Professor Snape's godson."
She didn't? Oops—was that supposed to be a secret?
Oh shit Snape is going to kill me—
"I don't think Professor Snape likes me that much, but I am thankful for him protecting Draco at least. Draco is my best friend and I'd really hate if Slytherin rejected him just for being my friend but Professor Snape has done a lot to protect my friend so I can't be mad at him." He switched on a dime and babbled a bit hastily to cover that slip, not entirely lying but laying on his 'appreciation' of Snape a lot thicker than he actually felt it.
He recognized he sounded rather childish, but he was twelve, and he wanted her to focus on the Gryffindor 'because he's my friend' bullshit excuse they always bought in hopes she'd forgive Snape's apparent nepotism. Like the dungeon bat wasn't already blatantly biased, but Harry very much did not want the news that he was the one who let slip Snape and Draco's relation get back to the potions professor because he would never pass his potions OWL then. At the very least if McGonagall recognized it as a good thing for her favorite student, it wouldn't be an issue maybe…
It seemed to work to a point as her eyes softened—as much as they ever did at least.
He wasn't quite sure why she seemed… sad about it though?
"You're actually thankful for him?"
What a weird question, he frowned internally, but instead plastered a smile on his lips for her benefit.
"He's still a mean guy kind of but yeah, I am. I at least get how much the Slytherins love him and why. He hates me for sure but he loves Draco and since I love Draco too that's kind of all that matters."
Yeah, he was laying it on thick, but it was true enough. It was exactly what the Gryffindor head of house would want to hear, too, as evidence by her entire posture seeming to melt some.
She smiled at him, still in that sad kind of way. "That's very kind of you to say, Harry."
Is it? She must be closer friends with Snape than I thought—gotta watch out for that. Guess complaining about him to her isn't a good idea.
He hid any inner grievance he might've had with the dungeon bat and smiled widely at her, like he didn't have a care in the world.
"He's still mean though!" He joked and she gave an amused sort of sigh.
"I know he's a difficult kind of professor, but-"
"Actually, he'd not half as bad as Hooch, to be honest. At least Professor Snape actually knows something about his subject matter, although he could be more subtle about some things."
He blurted it out on instinct to get away from needing to lie about how much he "loved" the bat who was trying to fail him and his fellow lions, but then he remembered:
Oh yeah, I fucking hate Hooch. Let's stop talking about Snape and let's talk about that bitch. That's way more interesting…
He kind of felt like Blaise in how vindictively riled he suddenly was now that he had a new, safe target to set his ire on, but he kept the maniac grin off his lips.
McGonagall, for her part, looked startled by the sudden tone shift.
"Madam Hooch is a retired quidditch player, you know." She began, quidditch nerd peeking through for a moment before she shook it off hastily. "If we can get off subject for a moment, can I ask why you feel that way?"
Oh where to start.
"In your first letter to me, you told me brooms were dangerous and that's why first years couldn't have them. Then I get to Hogwarts and the first flying lesson we have, Hooch tells us to get on a broom and just do it. I'm the weird one who has some skill, and most purebloods knew what they were doing, but the fifteen or so muggleborns in that class were essentially purposefully being put at risk for no good reason at all, and to make matters worse, Neville paid a price for it. And he's my friend so I took it a little harder than I would've if it'd been someone else." He ranted immediately, letting the vitriol he hadn't realized he'd been saving for that woman since that flight lesson over a year ago resurface and spill out into his tone.
It felt good to just be… righteously angry again. For no other reason than that he was sure he was right and that person deserved to be at the other end of a dressing down. He felt more like his old self suddenly and ball got rolling.
"Hogwarts has some phenomenally bad teachers, but Hooch takes the cake because in my first two weeks here the only student who got hurt was under her care, and she had the audacity to blame Neville for her own incompetence. Neville struggles with a lot of stuff, but that one was her being a horrid teacher— not his fault despite the fact her words mean he now blames himself anyway and refuses to even get near a broom ever again. And his mother has just as many trophies in the award room as my father does—it's grossly unfair that I can enjoy something that connects me to my parents while Neville can't just because Hooch sucks!"
McGonagall seemed visibly flabbergasted, and if Harry weren't fuming right now thinking about strangling Hooch, he might've laughed at her uncharacteristic expression.
"You've never said anything," She got out, alarmed.
"Well she is an adult and also the referee for quidditch matches. If I sassed her, our games would be forfeit because I can only assume someone so incompetent as her would let bias like that sway the points she calls."
"I can assure you she would never." The teacher seemed visibly taken aback and indignant he'd even suggest such a thing. She was insanely into quidditch as well obviously, so Harry had a feeling she was on good terms with Hooch… unfortunately unlike Snape, he wasn't about to go easy on the woman who'd let Neville introduction to Hogwarts go so fucking terrible he still wouldn't go near a broom no matter how much Harry and the other guys begged him.
She hurt Neville.
No one… and I mean no one gets to do that.
Maybe he would've forgiven her over time if Neville hadn't become literally the only thing keeping him sane right now… but at this point he was so far beyond people who looked down on his sweet, wall flower friend.
He didn't want to actually form the thought that he'd love to kill her, but he was dangerously close. He knew it was just his temper talking but even then, he was finding it very hard not to slip his wand into his fist and squeeze in hopes his anger would miraculously find her and make her pay.
He shook it off, anger focusing into his words. Logically he knew he couldn't attack her but he could twist her image into something awful, and he was going to use every Slytherin tactic he knew to do it.
He put his nose in the air and sniffed, unsatisfied.
"And here I have no proof of that. Clearly she attempted to kill every single muggleborn in my year, so she's probably one of those…people who say nasty things like mudblood and such." His tone implying people would've been replaced with a far cruder word has he not been talking to a teacher, and she clearly got the message by the way her face paled some. "Frankly I don't want anything to do with those nasty sorts. Not even the worst of the Slytherins I hang out with say it because they're at least smart enough to know better to do so in front of me, even if they think it. I can only imagine someone so bad at their job would both think it, and be foolish enough to actually say it out loud. Much less do it openly in front of all four houses!" He cried for dramatic flair.
"Harry! I assure you she's nothing like that, she just…" But she had to trail off because Harry put his hands on his hips and gave her a very pointed look.
What did she just…? Just what?
He clicked his tongue in the best impersonation of her he could get. "What excuse could she possibly have for handing a bunch of muggleborns dangerous brooms and saying 'have at it'? How is that different from me getting a broom on my own, which is clearly against the rules? Okay so maybe she wasn't actively plotting to kill them, then at the very least she doesn't give a snitch about them or their safety. She expected a bunch of eleven-year-olds who didn't know humans could fly a month prior a dangerous vehicle with no training and just… let them fly off? You like quidditch and Madam Pomfrey said you were a chaser back in the day! Would you give a first year a broom their second week here with no instruction? It's that easy that anyone can do it, huh?"
It's "so easy" in fact, that when I could fly immediately it meant I was a prodigy that had to be on the quidditch team a year early.
Not everyone was a supposed prodigy, therefore… flying wasn't easy. And as an ex-player, McGonagall damn well knew that.
Also, frankly, it was dangerous. He loved it, but his love of it didn't blind him to the fact that it was hard work, and he'd very purposefully watched Colin and the other first years like a hawk when he taught them to fly so they didn't go wild or fly off—Hooch hadn't done anything like that. She didn't even have a broom near her to go catching students if something went wrong, she just stood on the ground like a dumbass and scolded Neville when he struggled to land again.
Instead of nearly any useful instruction, she'd taught them to lift their brooms with an 'up' command… which is something Harry had literally never once done since that lesson and he flew all the time. It was in no way easier than just picking it up like a normal human being…
Honestly wizards—they overcomplicate a lot of shit.
McGonagall didn't seem comfortable, but he could see her brain churning behind her unapproving eyes.
"I understand where you are coming from… I admit one of the first exchanges we ever had I warned you about the dangers of brooms and you seem to have taken it to heart. I still don't believe Rolanda meant harm… but I do see you point that harm was done, due to negligence."
He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and puffing his cheeks out like a child.
"She wasn't even on a broom to teach us. I had to go catch Neville or he would've broken his neck! All she did was scold him! We could've had Professor Binns as our flight instructor and it would've gone better, because at least he wouldn't even notice one of us dying to be able to scold us about it."
She sighed audibly, very weary. "Harry…"
"It was more than negligence—all she did was hand us our brooms! I could've bought a broom before I got to Hogwarts and done the same thing!"
"Which is blatantly against school rules, as I warned you." She reminded him in a warning tone, but he just puffed up more.
"But the only difference between that class and us doing it unsupervised is that we were together! I still had to be the one to catch one of my classmates, and I'm apparently a natural at it. What would've happened if I fell? Since I was the one doing the catching of others, and she didn't even leave the ground to try to help, that means if I didn't happen to be good at flying I would've died two weeks into my Hogwarts stay?" He complained—before jolting as it the truth actually hit him like a brick wall. "I mean, besides the other two times I actually nearly died that year."
McGonagall… looked openly dismayed and stood sharply, coming around the desk to put firm hands on his shoulders. He wasn't sure what expression he was wearing, but he kind of didn't want to know going by her reaction.
He kind of liked the firm grip holding him in place too… it was kind of reassuring that he wasn't about to float off into space, as if there were a threat of him doing just that. She wasn't a touchy person, even if she weren't his teacher… so the sudden closure of the distance was comforting.
"Harry… I hear you. I understand now that what happened wasn't acceptable and I'll look into it." She promised, no longer pushing back and he decided to just shut up and nod mutely. "That being said…"
She trailed off some, and he could tell she wanted to ask.
But he didn't want to answer so he just turned his head to the side and pouted a bit.
"Not that it matters… I taught Colin and Ginny and them how to fly this year because I didn't trust her not to kill them… not that it did anything to protect Colin."
The hands on his shoulders tightened slightly.
"…about that." She squeezed once more before stepping back and leaning over her desk briefly, pulling up a sheet of paper that had been resting there. "While I can't share many details on the investigation happening, there was an idea brought forth to train the students in case of another incident. I thought you might appreciate the practical approach."
She handed him the paper and he blinked when he took the meaning in. Technically, it was a flyer, clearly meant to be posted somewhere public to Gryffindor.
"A dueling club?" He tilted his head, considering that. "So… other students are still going to be the ones doing the catching."
She looked visibly pained, but still put a hand on his shoulder in a weak attempt at comfort.
"I will do everything in my power… but the truth is we still know so little. Having students be able to defend themselves from threats is never a bad thing, even if this entity that harmed Mr. Creevy is caught."
He stared at the paper, but...
It was exactly what he thought about, almost constantly these days as he learned magic. Every new spell he learned, he also learned to do it while running or from his sleeve or at someone behind him… he was training as hard as he could to be able to use what magic he had to defend himself if he needed to, he was already doing that…
But…
But…
"…what spell could this club teach me that would protect me from a troll? Or a teacher?" He mumbled quietly, almost kind of ashamed he'd actually admitted that concern to her… but she was also the one he went to most when he had questions about magic.
Transfiguration would be his ticket to power, because at this point he had an 'acceptable' in charms and defense so… she and her subject would be everything he had to go on for now.
He didn't know how dueling other students was actually going to change anything though. Students… were not the problem here, and he wished people would stop pretending he had nothing more than homework to worry about when he'd come withing inches of death FIVE times in the past calendar year alone—and none of them were homework or classmate related.
A troll, that he had no idea had been let loose in the school.
A unicorn killer in a forest, while on a detention McGonagall herself had given him.
A cursed broom that he'd been willing to just ignore but probably shouldn't have.
A teacher he was supposed to be able to trust, who'd tortured him instead.
And then… fucking muggles and that god damned shed.
Oh wait… let's not forget about the potion that roasted him in class the other day. He supposed that one was classmate related, but then again… Snape had not let that happen, performing as an actual teacher for once in his life.
Maybe that's all they were though… teachers. Teachers gave homework and stopped classmate squabbles… they also couldn't do shit about abusive relatives or trolls or the fucking dark lord.
He winced… maybe he'd been too harsh on them before. Yeah there was nothing he could do but… besides at least acting like this was a problem, there really wasn't much they could do either, was there?
Maybe he'd given them too much credit.
Maybe he wasn't paying attention, because he was so lost in his darkening thoughts that he was startled to realize he was being hugged—tightly.
He blinked widely at the ceiling over her shoulder as McGonagall hugged him tightly, and he very belatedly put arms back around her in shock.
It only lasted a brief time before she let go, straightening without a word to her original regal posture… and gently fixing the hair clip he had to keep his hair out of his face.
"We'll just have to see about that sort of magic then, but in the meantime a good first step would be to remove your last block. Shall we take a walk to the Hospital Wing this evening?"
His eyes widened, instantly eager.
"Really!?"
"Indeed… your drills shows no error and if Madam Pomfrey agrees you've healed entirely, then having this block won't do you any good during a duel." She nodded down to him and he perked up. "Although I suppose I should ask first… do you intend to join this club?"
Huh.
Being asked my opinion is a nice change of pace.
"I think so… I'm still not sure what I could learn that would actually help, but at the very least I know my friends will." He admitted.
She gave him another approving nod. "I understand. Against your year mates you're right, it may be mostly for their benefit. I wouldn't suggest opposing upper years just yet… however, if you have time after the Madam clears you, I may be able to at least instruct you on good dueling etiquette, and a spell or two appropriate for your magic level."
Not year level.
Magic level.
And he was easily almost above fourth year right now.
He looked up at her with stars in his eyes and she simply guided him to the door gently.
"Are you serious? Are you actually serious?"
"I am quite serious Mr. Potter, so if I am allowed to take that as a yes then come along…"
"Cool!" His brain finally caught up and he all but lead the charge out of her office, her sharp clicking heels easily outpacing him almost immediately despite his eagerness.
She huffed, although amused enough that it could've been a polite laugh.
"While it may be 'cool', yes, I will warn you now the difference between fighting fellow students in a sanctioned duel and fighting an enemy. Your spellwork for Transfiguration is excellent but given your magical core I am telling you now you will struggle with control—particularly reigning things in so as not to harm people unnecessarily."
"Right," he agreed, mind racing immediately.
He listened close as she lectured him the entire way to the Hospital Wing about the tenants of control in a duel, and he even had a few things to share back about his 'falling' method of spell casting which she agreed would warrant some experimenting with before using on real opponents. The fact she was willing to talk, like, actual battle tips and tricks…
Like, actually help him help himself…
Because yeah, maybe she couldn't help him in all honesty. In the moment he'd need help the most, most likely he would be alone, or would need to be the one protecting someone else, like with Hermione and with Neville… with Colin and everyone else he just wasn't around to protect when they needed him.
Suddenly, he realized… the helplessness he felt when Colin was attacked and he just hadn't been there to protect him…
McGonagall might feel something a little similar.
For some reason, that made tears prick at the corner of his eyes, but he shoved them down to deal with that unidentified emotion later. He was about to be checked over to see if he was healthy right now so he had to put his game face on and get ready to actually learn some magic that might save his life one day, right here and right now.
And maybe he was a Gryffindor at heart, because being able to do something finally felt really good.
His mood only got higher still when they finally reached Madam Pomfrey's office and McGonagall knocked, only waiting a moment before entering and…
"Draco?" Harry blinked, of all the things he'd been expecting, seeing his friend sitting at Madam Pomfrey'sdesk while she was looking over his shoulder at something was not it.
"Harry!" He yelped, ears going red but posture stiffening immediately. "Wait—are you hurt!?"
"I believe this is scheduled, actually, although you made good time on the spellwork drills. I wasn't expecting you for another forty minutes," Madam Pomfrey straightened up, checking her pocket watch pointedly.
"Scheduled…?" Draco frowned, looking from the Mediwitch back to Harry expectantly.
"I mean I didn't know but Professor McGonagall said my spells are okay to remove the block I've had on since the start of the year," He explained mainly for his benefit, but he was both curious himself—and also could see McGonagall was taken off guard by his appearance here too. "What are you up to? I know you said you were practicing but…?"
The apples of the blond's cheeks turned a light pink but he lifted his nose pompously anyway.
"Practice is slow going so I'm reading up on theory in the meantime, just to supplement some things." He explained a bit too casually.
"I had no idea you had interest in healing, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall lifted one brow at him, though he refused to meet her eye.
"It's a hobby." He insisted, slightly defensively.
Madam Pomfrey chuckled, coming around the desk to grab a book on one of her shelves. "Today is a small test of sorts I'm having Mr. Malfoy do to check his understanding of the topics we've been discussing so far." She flipped the book open to a middle chapter with apparent ease and placed it in front of Draco, who blinked in surprise. "While I check over Mr. Potter here, in case you are curious about the magical core theory needed for this you can find it here."
"Really?" He perked up, abandoning his supposed test to grip the book now instead.
"Oh no," Harry groaned, half dismayed. "He's going to be even more of a worry-wart if he knows about my health issues… is that a good idea?"
"Given he'll likely be the one next to you next time an incident occurs, would you rather he be ignorant?" The Madam countered smoothly as she ushered both Transfiguration student and teacher out of her office and back into the main wing. And you know, Harry had to give her that point.
"Oh no," He still said, earning twin chuckles from the women escorting him.
Thankfully none of them saw Draco with his head buried behind the book as it went neon red in mortification.