"Here comes another one."
"Seamus, I'm gonna need you to kill me." Harry was only half joking, the other half about to die of mortification as the stupid Valentine's Day gnome came hobbling up to him with another poem in hand. He fisted his hand into Seamus' sleeve to prevent him from abandoning him again despite the Irishman's protests.
That would make this number seven of the day and somehow it was not getting better with time or practice.
"Let me go, I don't want to hear this shit!"
"Neither do I!"
"You can't say that, you'll insult whoever sent this to you!"
"The hell I can't—anyone who sent a singing poem doesn't actually know me at all! At this point I almost think it's just one person trying to mess with me!"
"It's possible, but trust me that isn't it." Dean laughed—standing ten feet behind them and far out of range to be associated with the gnome who by now knew the drill and just got down to business reciting yet another extraordinarily cheesy poem.
Harry clamped his hands over his ears rather than hear it. He knew he couldn't run as the thing would just chase him down and he refused to lose composure like that by fleeing the small creature just doing his damn job.
All in all it wasn't the worst or anything, just super annoying. Honestly it was kind of nice to have normal, pre-teen kind of troubles for once; it'd been a while since he felt the normal kind of embarrassment, since usually he had no shame. These poems were just that bad though.
"I am impressed at how many things people can compare your hair to," Dean commented causally as he rejoined them once the gnome had toddled off, getting far too much enjoyment over his suffering in Harry's opinion. "Big fan of the one that called you a lobster."
"I hate you." Harry sighed, accepting his fate. "I'm about to send one after you just so you know how this feels."
"Joke's on you, I'd love to hear how pretty you think my eyes are," He snarked back, completely unrepentant so Harry attempted to jab him in the side. He must've been getting too predictable though because Dean not only dodged without even looking at him, but then put his hands behind his head to casually change the topic like the attack hadn't even registered.
"I'm starving. Let's go to the kitchens before Transfiguration," He decided.
"You're always hungry, and we just had lunch." Seamus complained, only because this was a daily activity he was getting tried of walking down the dungeons for.
Harry wasn't hungry at all but he caught sight of Neville pulling his bag up on his shoulder a little more and his chin lifting. He'd never say anything but at this point of studying the blond like a hawk so he wouldn't have too, he recognized that to mean Neville was also not going to be mad about a snack and was interested in going too. Harry had been transfiguring all of their clothes every so often when he noted them getting a little too small—Dean was literally every other week it seemed like but he'd only just recently needed to correct Neville's pants hem too. They had been the same height since they met but the quietest Gryffindor was definitely slightly taller now no matter what shoes Harry wore.
The news that the mandrakes Sprout was tending to had become moody and secretive was also serving as a reminder that, while they grew slower than a bunch of screaming plants, the next couple years were going to be really annoying for all of them.
Growth spurts meant snacks, which Harry didn't mind… he was just a little miffed that if Seamus got any taller then he'd be the shortest and that was going to annoy the hell out of him. He'd taken all the nutrient potions Madam Pomfrey had ordered for him, so he shouldn't have any lasting effects by now!
…but he also had no idea how tall his parents had been, nor did he think to actually ask that to Moony over break. It felt extremely childish to use any real estate in his next letter to the werewolf to ask how tall his dad had been when they were kids, even if he knew Remus would probably happily answer. It might've been bittersweet at most but Moony did like reminiscing with someone who wanted to hear it for once, Harry thought.
"Let's go, we only have an hour left anyway and that's not enough time to do anything else," He seconded Dean's proposal—and Neville's secret want.
"I mean we would've had time if there weren't all these gnomes—"
"Dean I swear to god—"
"It's 'Merlin' Harry, don't forget! How very muggleborn of you," Dean teased and then had to duck for real at the clothesline that came his way.
"Is this what I get for introducing you to Slytherins!?"
Seamus scoffed and tried to put hands up in an attempt at peace. "We don't talk that much, it's just the first Quidditch match of the season is only two weeks away and you know Hufflepuff's defense is-"
"You don't have to talk to me about their defense, Wood's only been trying to kill us running drills for it," Harry mock cried, because he was pretty athletic but was still sore from their practice session two days ago. Hufflepuff honestly had the best defense of the four teams this year, and the only team able to actually break through so far had been Slytherin so he knew Draco had been talking shit behind his back about how Gryffindor had no chance.
Draco was an amazing friend that Harry knew he was lucky to have… not when it came to quidditch though.
"I mean the Gryffindor chasers are pretty damn good too, it probably won't be the blow-out that the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw game was. They're still going to rack up a lot of points though, probably." Deans shrugged. "The main issue is Hufflepuff has the twins on lock so they're likely not going to be able to help much on defending goals when they're gonna be focusing on stopping bludgers aiming for Wood,"
It was a known strategy Hufflepuff tended to use: do everything in the first ten minutes of the game to take out the other team's keeper, leaving the goals open for the rest of the game. Despite it being an open secret it didn't help how effective it was because if they tried to defend their keeper too much it left other gaps in their defense and they'd be a hundred points down before they could blink.
Quidditch in general just felt like that sometimes: like a sinking boat with a rapidly increasing amount of holes at the bottom and you only had two hands to plug them. Ignore one hole for too long and you started taking on water even faster—you just had to hold on until you could cross the shore first. Hufflepuff had a habit of making that feeling even worse somehow though, because they never really seemed to care about their own boat and instead gave 110% into sinking their opponent's boat first.
They continued chatting quidditch on their trip down the kitchens, Harry content to pretend for a little while longer that this first upcoming match of the year was the only thing he was anticipating with an uneasy stomach.
"Wait—the gnome is coming back. Guys run!"
"Hey!" Harry shouted, about to be mad they were abandoning him, when the gnome sprinted past him and nailed Dean in his stupidly long legs to prevent him from running.
Harry immediately changed his mind about how funny the Valentine's gnomes were when he got to see Dean's mortified expression as he was read a cheesy poem of his own. Him crying in laughter on the hallway floor with Neville almost made up for needing to sit through his own poems throughout the day.
000
"Hey, Harry?"
He looked up, very used to people interrupting him if they caught him studying alone—particularly in the days leading up to a big Transfiguration assignment, and particularly if he was stupid enough to try and work alone in the Gryffindor common room. He normally only did so when he was not really interested in the work he was supposed to be doing, or early in the morning before anyone else was up because he knew he was 100% going to get interrupted otherwise.
He'd risked it today because he was just reading through one of his Chemistry books, so it wasn't like it was an assignment he needed to do urgently or anything. He'd fully expected to only get maybe 30 minutes on it before being interrupted, but was pleasantly surprised he'd almost reached an hour.
He was way more surprised by the person who'd called to him though, instantly forgetting about Chemistry to pay attention to her.
Fay Dunbar theoretically should've been easier to talk to than any Slytherin out there, but at this point he'd barely exchanged more than ten words with her since being at Hogwarts. The second-year Gryffindor girls had a very harsh click amongst themselves that only Hermione didn't seem to be part of, and since none of them were in the football club either, they really had their own little world unto themselves that didn't involve anyone else. Gryffindor boys seemed almost particularly excluded, which Harry had learned when he'd tried to be friendly and gotten some seriously filthy looks.
He could choose to be annoying and insert himself into friend groups where he wasn't wanted, and had done so plenty of times before, but something about those girls in particular had scared him so he gave them their space. That had seemed to be a fine status quo so far, as they ignored him pointedly, and eventually they also stopped giving him these 'looks'. They'd gotten to the point where they just ignored him in return instead of having any real animosity for his presence if he happened to sit too close to them at the Gryffindor table or in class.
That one of them had actually approached first and greeted him, much less so casually, was certainly novel and he was not going to waste the rare chance.
"Hey Fay! How're things?" He responded to her faked casualness with some of his own, choosing to ignore the fact they had never actually spoken nicely before and pretend they'd always been on friendly speaking terms like this.
"Pretty good," She shifted her weight, almost pointedly pretending to be polite. "I ah, I actually had a question, if you wouldn't mind?"
Harry expected nothing else. It worked on Slytherins, he knew it'd eventually work on everyone else.
"Let me guess… a Transfiguration midterm coming up have anything to do with it?"
She blushed lightly and gave a slightly annoyed pout. "I mean if you're busy--!"
"Not at all! Just teasing," he let out a light laugh and waved her awkwardness off, "Did you want to study together?"
"Please," She immediately plopped down in the chair across from him, the grateful half-smile she offered seeming actually pretty genuine. "I just—there's this one spell I cannot get and the midterm is this Friday so I'm just… I'm so lost."
"No worries! Which spell?"
"The softening charm?"
Harry almost burst out laughing—given that was the base spell of the counterspell duro—but just barely managed to keep his face straight.
"Why that's practically my specialty: did you want to show me what you were doing first or do you want a brand new explanation to start fresh?"
He knew he couldn't trade with Gryffindors: they weren't about it, you just had to give things away on good faith, and good faith would come back to you. Only if you were another Gryffindor though.
But he was a Gryffindor and he'd been sorely lacking some good faith in his own house for a while now, so he happily switched out his Chemistry book for their textbook, choosing not to mention that he hadn't cracked it so far this year though. It just hadn't been necessary for him yet, but he opened it up as a prop anyway so she wouldn't question it.
As it turned out, they worked decently well together. Fay had a short attention span for sure and got frustrated when she didn't get it after the first dozen attempts, but Harry was patient and led her through it. He'd guess she was about halfway there when she made a face and he switched to positive enforcement instead of blabbing too much about spell theory, since he could tell it was about to make her brain (or her patience) overheat any minute.
"It's a steep learning curve to do it my way but you're picking it up fast." He encouraged delicately.
"Is your way that different from how McGonagall explained it?"
"Yeah, though she gave me approval to use it so it's fine for tests and things. And I think once you get the hang of it, it makes actually doing it in day-to-day life so much easier."
She put her hand on her chin, wand down so clearly she was taking a break and he took the hint. "You're really good at Transfiguration, aren't you? I mean I see you chatting with McGonagall all the time, but I thought you were just a teacher's pet."
Harry didn't let his calm expression drop, though he did feel a vein in his temple twitch.
Yeah it was kind of blunt and rude, but the honesty was refreshing too. Besides, he could tell she was just bored with work and didn't strictly want to be chatting with him, she just didn't want to be working on her magic work even more right now.
He faked a light laugh.
"That might've been on purpose. I'm not like that with every teacher, but she's our head of house so I really tried in the start to get her to like me. Then it turned out I'm actually good at Transfiguration too, so there's that."
"What does she think of you being friends with Slytherins then?"
That was… interesting. She was only talking to talk, so he had no idea how serious she was about the question or not. She could be asking for no reason at all, because it was an ongoing rumor she thought she might as well bring up while she was here, or because she actually cared.
Harry realized he probably was hanging out with Slytherins too much to be giving it this much thought. It was Fay… here was a 90% chance it wasn't because she herself was curious, but because she wanted to repeat the information back to her click for them to do… whatever it was they did with rumors.
And he wasn't Blaise so he went with the boring answer, not that willing to contribute to rumors about himself.
"She's way too diplomatic to ever tell me her honest thoughts about that to my face." He gave an amused snort. "Snape hates it though, in case you were wondering. Hates it like a lot."
Her bored look broke a bit into a dry smile of her own.
"Why are you even friends with them though? They're kind of creepy."
Oh yeah, she's just here for the rumor mill. Two can play that though.
"Fair enough, but I'm also weird. We're a match made in heaven." He slyly joked, making a show of tossing his hair over his shoulder. He would not get confrontational, not with her… any chance he had with his own year mates would be over if he called her out. Didn't mean he wasn't annoyed as shit, but like many before her she was just repeating house rivalry propaganda, so picking a fight immediately wouldn't change anything.
Look at me, learning from past mistakes! He mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Gryffindors are 'right' after all—never outright disagree with them and I'm in.
He was proven dead right about his assumptions too, when she didn't even blink at the comeback, actually just seeming mildly amused at the joke. She wasn't pressing the issue that 'Slytherins were creepy, don't avoid the subject', she'd just said her objectively cruel things and the fact he didn't immediately disagree with her seemed to win him some points.
She clearly didn't even care that she'd called some of his closest friends creepy, because her eyes trailed to the movement of him pushing his hair back, instantly more interested than that than talking about the snake house.
"… why do you wear your hair like that?"
"Like what?"
"Long like a girl's."
Okay WOW,she's as rude as Ron! He felt his temple twitch again but refused to give her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him. Ron had last year and look at how that turned out.
He took a moment to settle a mirror over the grave in his mind with her name on it, reflecting on his own mental image of himself and knew he could absolutely out-vain her. If this was her wavelength, he'd absolutely match it in the name of peace… but also in the name of winning.
His competitive side could not be smothered as he smiled in a way that bared his teeth as if she'd issued a challenge instead of merely asking a question.
"Have you seen it? Why wouldn't I? I look bloody fantastic." He shot her a wink and she did a near comical double-take, eyes bugging out some.
"Eh?" She startled, and Harry knew he was good at taking people off guard but took particular pleasure in throwing her off.
He looked at her hair just as blatantly as she was looking at his. "I did notice you straighten your hair. Do you do it with a spell or shampoo potions? Mine is such a bitch to straighten, it's so wavey the potions that are supposed to last like a month only last like a week at best," he complained and she dropped her hand from chin to blink at him.
"I have a spell… what do you mean shampoo potions?"
"It's an Odd Solution from Contrair Alley. You just use them in the shower, and it makes your hair grow or get curly or do whatever. They're pretty fun."
"Where did you get them? I've never been to a Contrair Alley,"
He gave an evil grin that would've had any wise Slytherin leaving the room immediately, but unfortunately lions didn't have the same self-preservation instincts.
They were off then, launching into an in-depth conversation (with plenty of backhanded compliments sprinkled from the both of them) about hair and then the magical make-up that definitely caught her interest. Clearly she hadn't known despite being a half-blood, but was suddenly extremely eager to hear more about it. In no time at all Harry had weaseled an official trade out of a Gryffindor: exchanging teaching him the spell for straightening hair with getting her in contact with the Contrair hair salon that sold the magical make-up brand he used.
It wasn't long before they got to the topic of clothes either since that seemed to be the natural progression. She sat back, crossing her arms over her chest with narrowed eyes.
"I had noticed Neville was looking rather dapper lately. That was you?"
"Yep! Isn't it boring only wearing black beneath our robes?"
"I mean I certainly wouldn't wear any of the colors you walk around with but it's nice to know you can do a classy style too."
"Classy? I'm not classy?"
"You dress Neville in the classy stuff and instead walk around like a neon piñata."
"I would be offended if it weren't true." He tapped his chin in mock thought. Obviously he knew his style wasn't for everyone, and at this point he considered her vapid enough not to take the piggish comments to heart. That clique of hers was most definitely fashion and girlie-stuff oriented so anything not 'in style' was sneered at most likely. He had always highly suspected they'd been gossiping about his clothes since day one anyway so he wasn't shocked. "I suppose it isn't for everyone. I'm still impressed I was only hexed once for sitting at the Slytherin table in muggle clothes."
Her narrowed look softened a fraction when he didn't take offense, but instead played along. She seemed to acknowledge him a bit more, now that he was taking it just as hard as he could dish it out.
"Seems like a hassle."
"Oh it definingly is, but they're worth it." He boasted quietly, but confidently. She just gave him a suspicious one-over.
"Hm… I guess in any case, you're not half as bad as I thought you were." She suddenly decided.
"Eh? What'd I ever do?" he complained, before immediately back-tracking. "I mean I guess besides fraternize with Slytherins." He allowed grudgingly.
"I mean Lavender thought you were a jock and a bully. And a weirdo on top of it."
Wait…
"Um… I guess she wasn't technically wrong about any of those things. I do like sports and I may or may not have a hobby of bullying first years." He admitted, because it was true. "I have no idea how to defend myself against the 'weird' accusation but it wouldn't be the first time I've heard it. Feels odd to be called out so bluntly about it like that though."
She snorted, amused.
The genuine laugh told him he'd probably actually made it in her books by now, and was thrilled it only took being his absolute vainest for it to finally work.
"Okay, so you are all those things. Guess it's just not as bad as I thought."
"Wait, have you guys been like, actively avoiding me? Because you think I'm weird?" He whined playfully, and she shrugged as her answer. He gave a dramatic sigh. "Neville tells me I don't notice things like that—guess he's right."
"I mean you've got plenty of friends in other houses so whatever." She dismissed uncaringly. How brutal.
"What about you?" He couldn't help himself, knowing it was a bad idea but unable to let the opportunity pass. At her wary, questioning look he put on his most persuasive smile. "I mean you've got Lavender and Leslie and them but did you ever consider branching out to the other houses? I know a couple Hufflepuffs who also talk hair stuff with me too—I'm not just friends with other jocks and weirdos."
"I never really cared about stuff like that." She immediately declined. "You do stuff like that but don't you care what Gryffindor says about it?"
Uh oh.
"Maybe I'm not really keyed into the rumor mill that well… what do they say?"
She didn't even hesitate. "That you're not really a good Gryffindor. I mean no one really knows what house you should be in but people don't think it should've been Gryffindor at all."
It was kind of funny she didn't say he should be in Slytherin—that's what the Slytherins themselves said at least. And Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw… so it seemed Gryffindor still hated the snake house so much that even if they didn't think he belonged here with them, they still wouldn't condemn one of their own to an 'enemy' house.
"Wouldn't be the first time I've been told that either." He allowed tiredly. "But I didn't realize it was such common knowledge exactly."
"I mean you're weird."
"Thanks?"
He was ignored as she brushed her hair behind her ear briskly. "If you don't care what people say then power to you I suppose. I'm not about to do it too though. I'm not about to get firecrackers thrown at me or have to deal with gossip behind my back more than I already do." She shrugged the whole thing off, body language saying not to keep pushing so he dropped it.
"That's fair." He let it go—before what she said actually sunk in and he froze solid. "Wait—firecrackers?"
"You didn't see Weasley throw a firecracker at you in potions?" She shot him a judging look, but was clearly not that harassed about it as she absently tapped her wand on the desk between them.
Harry felt… cold.
He was looking down at the grave in his mind labeled 'Ron Weasley' and… trying to decide what he wanted to do with it. Whatever emotion it was, it made his fingers go numb and he just barely remembered to keep his face blank.
That was…
No.
…information first, and then he'd decide what punishment fit the crime.
It was a little hard to breathe though, difficult to control it enough to make his voice come out normal. He didn't want to spook her before he could get her to talk… and he needed her to talk.
"I didn't realize it was him." He managed, but his voice was tight to his own ears.
Luckily, she didn't seem to notice as she spilled the clearly old-gossip indifferently.
"Leslie has a big crush on Seamus and won't shut up about how he and Ron are arch nemeses or something, though if you ask me Weasley is the one with a huge bone to pick with you and Seamus is just getting involved. What's it like actually living with them? Seems gross, going by the way Ron eats." She wondered aloud, still talking shit.
She… saw nothing wrong with the firecracker.
It just a prank to her and probably to the other Gryffindors too. Only the Slytherins either A) saw and/or B) cared to notice that Harry had nearly been burned alive and the implications of his lack of reaction to it. And even then they didn't actually care that much, they just took note of it for their own situational awareness and safety.
But this implied Fay had seen it when no one else had… and she'd probably told the other Gryffindor girls too, so half his dormmates had known who the culprit was and hadn't mentioned it. They hadn't cared to.
He knew Hermione would've told him but her roommates had never been very kind to her, so unless they'd mentioned it while she was in their dorm room she probably didn't know, but all the other girls he'd sat next to in every class for months… had already known.
He was in his graveyard immediately, pacing in front of Ron's grave and nearly ripping his hair out from the stress of needing to decide what to do.
Ron's grave was a normal, boring gray headstone with the grass in front of it kind of flattened and patchy from all the times Harry had stomped on to vent his frustrations. Until now it wasn't even real frustrations, just little irritating things that got on his nerves, but they held no purpose in him holding onto them so he just stomped on the grave to release his annoyance and move on with his life. Not since last October when he'd overheard him fighting with Seamus did Harry even bother to think about Ron that much, not even knowing he was in league with the sixth years that were clearly after him.
At most he'd felt… pity even, since there was no way those upper years actually gave a shit about him, and Harry wasn't a monster who couldn't acknowledge that Ron had been fully ostracized from their year level. He couldn't reasonably think Ron wouldn't go off and find other "friends" to hang out with so Harry hadn't even held his part in all of that against him really. Like yeah he didn't like him much and the situation certainly did not help but that was not the main reason he was choosing not to associate with his last roommate.
Even his freak-out after overhearing that fight hadn't really been about Ron at all, it was just the trigger on an otherwise really bad time he was having that had tipped the scales.
Ron was not a friend and a little bit on annoyance— but even colluding with angry sixth years Harry had never considered him a threat.
He certainly was now though.
Just, how could he have even done it!? He knew Ron hated him, but physically, going off their seating arrangements in potions, he'd been across the bloody room at the time! He had to have insane aim to actually make that throw!
At the time Harry had even suspected him and dismissed him as not being good enough to actually pull it off even if he was the most likely to have done it, but if he'd really made that throw he was not nearly as useless as Harry had been thinking he was this entire time.
And it kind of freaked him out.
It was my fault for discrediting him as not talented enough to be able to do it. I thought he was useless—he's as dick for sure but he's not half as useless as I thought…rookie mistake honestly…
He cursed at himself, not having seen this coming and feeling his paranoia creeping up on him like vines snaking up his spine. It was like he'd at least known what sides his enemies were coming at him from, which sides he could trust his friends to watch when he couldn't… only to now discover he'd turned his back to an opening no one had even noticed was there.
Except… it wasn't his back, was it?
He stopped pacing, turning and looking at the grave in front of him with wide eyes. It was blank and unremarkable because nothing had ever happened that was significant enough to warrant decorating it more than some flattened grass.
So… why now?
No, I already know this answer, don't I?
Ron Weasley… didn't like him, yeah, but the Weasleys were, historically, not after the Potter family in general. Ron knew to shut his mouth in their dorm because Harry was too popular to get away with insulting him in front of that audience, so even someone slow on the uptake like him had gone off and found an audience who would hear it. Even Ron would know that to try and actually kill Harry Potter would be about as anti-Gryffindor as possible (even if Harry already had issues within their house, Ron didn't know that). Half the reason he was so mad was probably because he was jealous Harry had managed to fit right in (in his eyes) while he'd become an open black sheep amongst the lions.
Harry was his own kind of black sheep, but Ron wouldn't notice those kinds of nuisances, he would only be wrapped up in what Harry had and what he himself didn't have. He was a jealous prick in that way—Harry had known that from literally their first conversation on the train which was why he'd been so put off by him ever since.
They freaking lived together, so if Ron wanted to actually risk messing with him he had so many opportunities to do so that did not involve Snape's wrath of chucking a firecracker across the potions classroom in front of half their year level. Even Ron had proven he was not stupid enough to do something so insanely risky when Harry slept directly opposite him in their dorm room and those sixth years probably had plenty of ways of pranking him that wouldn't be immediately noticeable.
So why had he done it? Why potions, why that class?
Harry looked at the otherwise blank grave and re-catalogued everything he knew about Ron Weasley.
He had good aim clearly, he was a jealous prick, had had very few friends outside some sixth years, he was Ginny's older brother and the twins' younger brother, neither of which seemed overly sibling-like to each other. Well, the twins didn't even hang out with Ginny much either, so it seemed growing up with each other was enough for them all to go their own ways in Hogwarts, but the twins had openly fought with Ron at least once before to know they weren't on the same page—Harry had never heard Ginny talk about Ron at all though.
They were all Gryffindors though, and siblings. The twins had apologized on Ron's behalf multiple times, and while Ginny was clearly a good friend to him had remained entirely out of his and Ron's animosity so far, probably because she was a good Gryffindor who knew not to pick sides on in-house spats. They were all Gryffindors so even when Ron was acting out the other Weasleys were kind of letting it slide because… well, he was one of them. And that went really far in the lion house, unfortunately, but also pretty damn far in the large Weasley family too.
At least that was Harry's understanding of how families worked so far.
But all of that worked in reverse too: Ron couldn't openly target him, even he knew that was too far. He could talk shit behind his back all he wanted, but actual pranking or physical violence was another step altogether if it wasn't in good fun like the twins did it.
Any Gryffindor is always given a pass though, if they targeted a Slytherin.
And the Weasleys historically had a lot of bad blood with the Malfoy family.
I got caught in the crossfire, but I wasn't leaning over the potion when he threw it. Draco was.
Ron had tried to kill Draco… not him.
Honestly it finally actually made sense, even as he felt like the carpet had been ripped out from underneath him. Just like that his paranoia switched to something much hotter, much uglier than he wanted to admit.
And whatever it was that climbed into his heart, it was sickly sweet and terrifying. It felt just as god damn awful as standing in front of the horrible mirror last Christmas. It had its roots so deeply twisted into his soul he could almost feel himself rotting from the inside out as it spread something disgusting and vicious to the tip of his tongue, the ends of his fingers and toes, pulsing through him less pure like blood, but as strong as the magic everyone always said he had too much of.
People coming after him was stressful as hell, only because it was coming at him from all sides and he didn't always understand some peoples' motives—Ron being a big one since now that he'd proved not that useless after all Harry wasn't sure how to sleep at night wondering if his next move wouldn't be something Gryffindor-level unexpected.
Ron going after Draco though… that was old hate. Gryffindor vs Slytherin, tale as old as time, Harry had been dealing with that since literally his first day in the wizarding world when he and Draco had ice cream together.
So Ron wasn't inept after all, that was certainly news, but he was still a stubborn, jealous, impulsive Gryffindor who was blindly hateful of snakes while not knowing a single thing about how they operated.
And he had tried to kill Draco.
Harry couldn't help the way his heart cracked open in that moment. Coming after him was one thing, but coming after his friends? Ron might've already had a grave in his mind but Harry couldn't stop the surge of anger that only the mental image of burying Ron there for real could really soothe.
He had just enough awareness to remember that he played by the same exact rules Ron did. If he got up and went to transfigure Ron into a beetle right now in defense of a Slytherin (strike one—how dare he defend a snake) for an incident that had happened months ago (strike two—too much time had passed and most would say he should be over it by now), and for something Ron would say was 'just a prank' (strike three—no one in this house understood how serious it was at all) he would never be able to show his face in this common room again. They were both Gryffindors and this was the type of bad blood you had to just swallow since it did not count as 'important enough' to break house unity over—if Ron had gotten caught and lost them house points maybe, but he didn't. It was just an old prank at this point and Harry would be the bed guy if he retaliated now.
BUT… he could talk all the shit he wanted, just like Ron was to the upper years. All's fair in love and war and whatnot.
If Ron wanted to go after his friends and then play this game of words… well, he'd just been lucky so far Harry hadn't given enough of a shit about him to pay any real attention to it.
He was paying attention now though, and he was pissed.
No one fucked with his friends.
He snapped a smile onto his face, a side of himself he wasn't strictly proud of slipping into place because it really didn't matter anymore what she thought of him, just so long as she thought worse of Ron—and Fay went and spread her piggish, petty little gossip to everyone else in the lion house who'd listen.
In a fairer world she and Ron would've gotten along great, but they were just too damn similar apparently.
"Honestly, it is. We have strict rules that he stays in his section of the room but yeah, it's a pig stye over there." He wrinkled his nose and her eyes lifted some.
"Ew," She scoffed, the hint of gossip like blood in the water and she was suddenly an shark catching the scent.
"He's actually the worst roommate ever—Seamus is a godsend for at least attempting to deal with him but the rest of the guys totally gave up. He won't pick up after himself and he snores like a train." He dug into Ron, the desire for vengeance so thick in his heart it made it easy to put the conspiratorial grin on his face and her eyes lit up in interest. Like Blaise's tick for gossip but less proper and organized about it—she just wanted a juicy rumor to spread and he was going to give her plenty.
"How do you even sleep with that?"
"The curtains go pretty far honestly, but thankfully I'm on the opposite side of the room. If a single piece of his clothes touch mine I'm throwing out my whole wardrobe—he lets his pet rat sleep with him and everything if that paints the picture."
"The hell, that's so gross," She complained, but also looking like she could not be having a better time.
"Tell me about it! I swear it's like he's never hung anything up in his life, it's all just over the floor and I'm honestly shocked he can find anything," He rolled his eyes pointedly. "I don't even know if he's ever turned in a homework to be fair,"
He had, but Harry was pretending he'd never seen it.
Fay didn't seem to care at all about how true any of this was or not, leaning in with her own contribution.
"I mean not a shock—I heard he's failing like all his classes. He tried to get Hermione to tutor him but even she got fed up with him after a while and she'd jump in the lake naked just to get someone to talk to her." Fay doubled down on his meanness with her own, and Harry winced at the incidental jab at his friend's expense… poor Hermione.
Maybe he needed to hang out with her more or get her to finally join football club as a referee or something. He hadn't heard about her and Ron hanging out but if she was that desperate he regretted not being able to help her more. He only had one roommate he couldn't stand but if all her roommates were as insufferable as Fay, then Hermione was actually way more normal than he'd been giving her credit for.
"She's really patient too so he must've been a bloody monster," He tried to deflect it away from Hermione and back to Ron, but Fay scoffed.
"Oblivious, more like. If she actually noticed what a prick he is then he's the real deal,"
This wasn't working, he wanted to bash Ron but not at Hermione's expense, and was desperate to shift conversation away. Why was this easy to do with snakes but not lions? Or maybe it was just girls he didn't understand.
"Ron's always been a bit much. Literally our first conversation ever he tried to essentially coat-tail ride the whole 'me being an orphan' thing which I hate anyone doing." He switched takes, even at his own expense which thankfully worked.
"Oh my god really? Like he was sucking up or…?"
"Definitely sucking up." He faked a laugh. "Honestly I think that's why he hated me outright since I didn't put up with that shit. It's only gotten worse since but I feel like I dodged a bludger on that one."
"You'll be friends with Slytherins but not Ron Weasley huh? Telling enough, I suppose." She sniffed.
"Honestly," He gave an exasperated groan and they laughed it off.
Is this what mean girls are? I'm being a mean girl, aren't I.
He ignored that shameful thought, tossing himself into the gossip for everything he was worth.
Because he'd just learned Hermione no longer liked Ron, Fay was going to repeat all of this to Leslie her bestie, and Lavander was already predisposed to not like other boys for some reason, so with majority rules their Gryffindor year would officially be against Ron Weasley.
Even if Ron's increasingly dark threats against him hadn't gotten the girls to turn on him before, the cosmetic, superficial stuff like that he ate with his mouth open and dressed frumpily apparently did the trick. Everyone was predisposed to hate someone over something and Harry realized this was exactly it for them. They were interested in boys only so far as to have crushes on them, and anything that made them not cute or 'crush worthy' meant they could care less about them at best, actively dislike them as one of the gross 'boys' at worst.
Harry, who could talk hair-tips and gossip like he was one of them, seemed to now be exempt from that crush-or-not dichotomy they had, and therefore could be spoken to like a normal human being.
And he used this new 'in' mercilessly to continue to lambast Ron into the dirt.
He was sure to tell her all about how angry the twins were at him so as not to confuse Ron with the rest of his family—and Fay ate it all up happily, gushing her own hearsay here and there to spread some unsightly rumors. The more they talked he actually suspected she had a little bit of a crush on the twins so it was easy for her to exclude them from the conversation when bashing their brother.
In fact, some of the stuff she started sharing Harry was almost positive were untrue, and found himself having a new respect for Blaise's ability to gossip without lying because it got shockingly hard very fast, when he didn't actually know how to refute or clarify—or in this case twist some things to being believable or not. Not that he had to do much to ruin Ron—Fay seemed fully prepared to come up with some heinous shit and all he had to do was nod or hum blankly and she considered that god-given confirmation.
Pre-teen girls were scary, honestly. He thought Blaise was bad, but that crazy Slytherin was at least extremely careful to never get caught in a lie or muddy his own waters so that he could never swim there again. People like Fay though, spread rumors but were also willing to burn the house down around her and continue on like it wasn't her fault. Like she wouldn't burn it down again in a heartbeat next time too.
Neither of them gave a single shit about people' feelings clearly, but Blaise had never told him 'Montague is upset' when relaying the facts of a situation, whilst Fay was now informing him about every single tear Ron had made Hermoine shed, caring neither about how true it was if he had, nor Hermione's feelings about having her pain shared like this.
He really needed to hang out with Hermione more though, this was horrible even if Fay was exaggerating. But even if she were only slightly overinflating Ron's crimes, if he'd made the overeager bookworm of their grade cry even once, he doubled down on his shit talking for her sake now too.
It didn't feel nearly as satisfying as being able to hex him would've been, but he knew this was going to be far more effective… and he was ignoring what Neville was going to say when he found out about it.