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SIYE Time:5:46 on 29th March 2024
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Harry Potter And The Marauders Of The Phoenix
By The Englanderish

- Text Size +

Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Other, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Sirius Black
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Mild Language, Violence, Violence/Physical Abuse
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 15
Summary: 'AU. Sirius Black has his name cleared and raises Harry (with help from Remus) in the Potters' ancestral home. One day a year, Harry must return to the Dursleys for a full day to keep his Mother's protection spell. He meets and befriends several characters early. On his eleventh birthday, Harry is given a diary and keeps it secret. Ginny finds out about it and they both write in the diary together secretly. They are taken slightly aback when it writes back at first but quickly get used to their new friend, Tom.

After all, it's not as if it could be dangerous, right?'
Hitcount: Story Total: 22008; Chapter Total: 442





Author's Notes:
So I did actually get this written before August... I just completely forgot to post this here on this site. On the plus side it's meant you've been spared for 4 years The Event that happens here. I make no apologies. Following chapter up within the week.




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StoryPrinter


A knock sounded at the office door.

“Come in,” replied the kindly voice of Albus Dumbledore. The door revealed Professor McGonagall, with Harry and Ginny trailing behind her.

“Albus; Potter and Weasley here are rather insistent on speaking with you and only you. It concerns the incident last night - with Mrs. Norris.”

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his twinkling smile, as always, plastered onto his face. Also present and much less pleasant was Professor Snape, standing to one side and wearing a scowl. After a moment’s exchanged glance between the two, Snape straightened up.

“I can come back later.” He swept past the three newcomers, cloak billowing behind him as he stepped onto the staircase. McGonagall left also, leaving the children to nervously enter Dumbledore’s sanctum. As the door to Dumbledore’s office closed and the staircase began moving downwards, McGonagall spoke.

“Severus.”

Minerva.”

Witty. Elegant.

“You have been meeting in private with Albus an awful lot as of late.”

Snape sniffed.

“Yes, I have. What of it?”

McGonagall tutted, facing him properly.

“As deputy headmistress, is there anything I should know about these meetings.”

“If the headmaster has not told you, then no,” came Snape’s response, unblinking, as the stairs reached the bottom. He stepped off, swooping out of the opening wall without a backwards glance, leaving McGonagall to huff in frustration.


“What seems to be the matter?” Dumbledore asked as Harry and Ginny settled into two seats they were sure hadn’t initially been present a moment ago. Both looked very nervous - Ginny’s hands were together, fiddling, while Harry’s feet unconsciously thumped on the carpet.

“Well,” Ginny finally spoke up, “It’s, um. After what we found last night… we did some digging. About the Chamber of Secrets - and we found out it’s been opened before. Once before. By, um…” she glanced awkwardly at Harry.

“Ah,” Dumbledore finished for her, “I see. You are concerned because our dear groundskeeper was implicated, correct?” Both of them nodded, in tune with each other. The age-defying headmaster steepled his fingers and glanced pensively at them. “Well, let’s take stock of the situation, shall we? You are, both of you, familiar with Hagrid, are you not?”

The pair nodded. In unison. Dumbledore offered them a kindly smile. “And, I trust, you are reasonably familiar with both me and the existence of the Hogwarts governors, as well as the Ministry of Magic?” Another pair of nods. “Good, good. You see, all three are acutely aware of our groundskeeper’s situation and history regarding the Chamber of Secrets incident all those years ago. However, Hagrid is still permitted to remain. I am certainly not going to betray Hagrid’s trust on the matter - if you wish to hear his side of the story, you will have to ask him. What I will do is put to you a question for you to consider.” He leaned forwards in his chair, azure gaze flitting between the two on occasion, maintaining eye contact. “Do you find it likely that Hagrid would be allowed to remain at Hogwarts if me, the governors, or the Ministry believed for one second he was truly responsible for the incident?”

Harry’s face broke with understanding, while Ginny’s grew a small frown.

“Ohhh, I see Professor! No, of course not.” The boy visibly relaxed in his seat, worry falling away.

“But… but why would it be kept quiet?” Ginny asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to just tell people Hagrid’s innocent?” To her surprise, Dumbledore only chuckled in an almost fond sort of manner.

“My dear Miss Weasley, I am afraid you are being just a tad naïve. People talk, rumours about, doubts fester and gossip spreads. Innocent or not, publicity of Hagrid’s past allegations against him would not help him, only cloud his future. Best for it to stay forgotten and Hagrid be left alone, at least by the general public.”

Ginny mulled his words over in her head a little. What would happen if her mother were to hear of Hagrid being mixed up in this sort of trouble…? A vision popped into her head of her, in the middle of cooking dinner, giving a long tirade about irresponsible headmasters and why Ginny should stay away from that shifty groundskeeper. Okay, maybe shouting about Hagrid from the rooftops wasn’t exactly a very clever-sounding idea just yet. She grimaced and shook her head to dispel the all-too-real image.

“Oh, y-yes of course, Professor! Sorry, I didn’t think.” She grinned nervously, hoping she didn’t seem like a complete idiot.

“Quite alright.” Dumbledore beamed, his smooth, hairless face crinkling with warmth. He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it a smidge, before standing up. “Thank you for coming to me with this, you two. Ten points to Gryffindor, I think, for tactful inquiry and communication. Would you care for a sugar quill?” He waved a hand to his left, where a little pot of sugar-encrusted, quill-shaped gummy sweets poked out in varying colours. Tentatively, they accepted, Harry taking a deep violet one and Ginny a golden orange.

“Alas, I am afraid I must bid you good day, now,” The gangly man said, indicating the door behind them with a hand. “I have a fair few things to mull over, if you don’t mind.” Getting up at once, the children gave yet another simultaneous nod, backing towards the door.

“Of course, sir! Thanks again!”

“Not at all, not at all,” Dumbledore insisted, clambering barefoot over his desk to perch almost like a monkey on the front, waving them goodbye. “Have a good day and a good week, now.”


No sooner had the door shut, did his smile falter, then drop into a sadness. Noticing the sudden gloom, Fawkes fluttered from his perch to roost on the edge of the desk, beside his companion. Absentmindedly, Dumbledore gave the phoenix’s back continual slow, soft strokes.

“Oh Fawkes, how am I ever going to tell him?”

The bird gave a low chirp, looking expectantly at him.

“I know I’m going to have to. He just… he’s so young. They both are.”

A soft caw.

“Oh, don’t give me that. Gellert was hardly the same thing as what’s going on now. I will tell him; the issue is when. I refuse to just rip his childhood away and have him live his every waking moment with that over him, not until I have to.”

Fawkes crooned, fluttering his feathers and resting his head against Dumbledore’s petting arm.

“His fifteenth?” Dumbledore pursed his lips, thinking. It made sense. “Yes, he should be old enough by then. Yes. If Tom does not return before it, I will tell Harry when he is fifteen. Not on his birthday itself, that would mar the festivities. When he returns to Hogwarts, a month or so in, yes. It should soften the blow. Let him enjoy life at least for a while.” He sniggered a little. “I don’t know why people call me brilliant; all my good ideas come from you.”


Three firm knocks sounded on the thick oak door of Hagrid’s cabin. It was early evening and there was something that smelled delicious emanating from the chimney. Autumn was in full swing and the nip in the air that inevitably followed was rather getting to Ginny now. Scotland was a lot colder than Ottery St. Catchpole, that was for sure. She’d have to see if she could get Mum to fork out for some tights to send over or something. How on Earth did people live up here all the time? Her inner diatribe at the climate was cut off by Fang’s excited barking and then Hagrid’s stern barking.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’, get down you silly mutt!” The door was yanked open, revealing the huge, shaggy form of Rubeus Hagrid. He beamed at the sight, deftly holding Fang back with a hand round his collar.

“Harry! Ginny! Good ter see yeh! Come in, come in!” He beckoned the lightly shivering pair inside. He handed around mugs of… tea? At least it seemed to be tea, but who was to know. Ginny took a total of one sip, which she dispensed back into its vessel when Hagrid wasn’t looking. After ensuring his guests were sat and comfy, with a plate of rock cakes set between them, Hagrid pacified fang with a slab of meat and flumped into his own chair.

“How’ve you two been? Not too shaken up about the mess last night are ye?” He squinted worriedly at them for a moment. The duo glanced at each other before Harry began.

“Well, not so much, no. But we did want to ask you about something to do with that.” He gave another glance at Ginny before he continued. “We… did some digging. Into the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened.”

The silence was palpable, but short. Hagrid coughed and mumbled something before- “Ah, records are a load o’ faff. They won’t tell you nuffin’ on the ins an’ outs or anythin’. Your mum an’ dad are all over the books here - for totally different reasons ter each other, mind you. It just doesn’t give yeh the real picture.”

Harry got a curious look on his face. “I forgot you knew my parents. What were they like? I mean, Sirius and the others have told me stuff about them, but still.”

“Aye. I did know them. Not as well as I probably should have, but I did. Your mum was one o’ the sweetest people I ever knew - but had her mean streak if yeh messed with her. Right clever, she was, too. Always a dab hand at potions.” His great bearded face was crinkled merrily. Curled up in her chair, Ginny watched with fondness as Harry leaned forwards, attention entirely on Hagrid. “Now yeh dad was a right trouble maker - always up to something he shouldn’t. Took his time growin’ up, if you catch me drift. Heheh.”

“What sort of trouble?” Harry asked slyly, a grin forming.

“Ohhh… let’s just say he had a hard time keepin’ out o’ detention. Sneakin’ around a lot, shenanigans and pranks, you can imagine.” Hagrid chuckled, taking a hearty swig of his own mug. “Hang on, I got summin’ here somewhere…” He began fishing through his pockets in search of goodness knew what.

Ginny was about to take a bite from one of the rock cakes when she caught Harry’s widened eyes at her and neck slash gesture. Gingerly, she lowered the cake and returned it to the plate.

Finally, after excavating letters, small tools, packets of seeds, keys and more, Hagrid produced a little wrapped, thin rectangle. He handed it to Harry with care. “I found that when I was sorting through a load o’ old tat in me cupboards. Been meaning to give it to yeh for a while now. I figured you’d have pictures already, but more shouldn’t hurt, right?”

Curiosity piqued, Ginny could only wait as Harry pulled away the string and brown paper. He was a slow unwrapper. Finally, she could see a corner protruding, a wooden one. Then a shiny surface. It was a photograph - fairly old by the look of it. Harry gazed for a moment, before a smile curled into his mouth and he held it up for Ginny to see. A teenage boy, about fourteen or fifteen, who looked a lot like Harry. He was decked in full quidditch gear, with his broom resting against his leg, and a huge, deceitful grin sported on his face. The backdrop was of the castle. A Hogwarts with a long, purple stain running down the astronomy tower.

“How on Earth did he do that?” she asked, incredulously.

“Look at his broom,” replied Hagrid, “See the tinted tail? An’ his boots? Crazy lad used his broom as a brush! Nabbed himself a week o’ detention. Three weeks once they realised it was mixed with a potion that made it basically impossible ter wipe off. Took us a month ter work out how ter get rid of it.”

Harry’s face was just about priceless to look at - one of his silly grins. Looking at the picture one more time, he set it down and stood up. Closing the distance, he gave Hagrid a wide, long hug.

“Thanks, Hagrid! I- thanks.” Hagrid beamed and gave Harry a pat on the back that looked like it near enough knocked the stuffing out of him. Ginny had to hide her wince at the sight of it. Disentangling himself, Harry sat back down and took a long chug from his mug. His face immediately went rigid, eyes watering, but hidden well from Hagrid. Had Ginny not known him so long, she’d never have seen through it.

“So, Hagrid, how’ve the grounds been of late?” she asked, shooting Harry a sidelong look that he had an opportunity. No sooner had Hagrid turned to her, did Harry discreetly deposit his mouthful into a plant pot from the windowsill.

“Ah, they’ve been comin’ along nicely!” Hagrid said, brightly. “Gettin’ a few things together fer the Christmas holidays down the road and compostin’ leftover pumpkins, mostly.”

Straightening up, Harry gave Ginny back a look of gratitude as Hagrid regaled them of the condition of Hogwarts and its coming needs over the next few months. All in all, they had a nice, cosy talk. A few hours and many dodged nourishments later, Hagrid was bidding their farewell with a broad smile.

“Great ter have you two! Come again some time - and don’t forget to bring the others either then.”

Stepping out into the snow, Harry nodded.

“See you, Hagrid!”

Ginny followed him, drawing her cloak tightly around herself and trying to keep her knees from knocking. No sooner had the door shut, did it hit them. At once their heads snapped to look at each other intently.

“… We just got completely deflected,” said Ginny, frowning. She had half a mind to turn right back around and knock again, to demand answers. But she had homework to do and she knew Harry wanted to meet up with his friends.

Harry too, looked annoyed. “Yeah. What was that about?”

“And we’ve got to get going, too. Drat!” Irritably, the pair began their long trek back to the castle, Ginny shivering incessantly. About a quarter of the way back, Harry stopped and glanced at her, apparently thinking. “Wh-what?” she blurted out, kicking her feet to preserve a bit of warmth. To her surprise, Harry started digging through his pockets, quickly pulling out an empty potions flask. Pulling out his wand, he unstopped the flask and poked the quivering stick in.

“Uh, let’s see… how did Hermione do this? Uh… Right, right.” He stammered out an incantation, the cold making him fumble it and produce only a few sparks. He tried again, managing to say it properly enough to sputter out a decent volume of bluebell flames, which clung to the shape of the flask’s bottom and remained. Harry quickly corked it, held it up to her hands and wrapped them around it with his own. It was warm to the touch and spread the heat quickly through her, though not really reaching her feet at all. “B-better than n-nothing at least.” He said, giving her a small smile.

Ginny breathily returned her own, icy condensation erupting in front of her face. She clutched tight to the bottle. “Thanks!” Wasting no more time, the pair set off again, trudging up to the castle. If there was some secret hidden sauna room somewhere in this place; Ginny was now determined to find it.


“I hate Moaning Myrtle,” Susan grumpily announced, sitting down with a huff at the library table. Eyes glancing up from his book, Draco raised an eyebrow in question, but otherwise didn’t move at all from his slumped reclining in the armchair. “Me, Hermione and Ron were poking round the first-floor corridor, you know where last night happened,” she elaborated at maximum speed, giving the boy’s feet a sharp shove off the table. “You remember all that water? It came from the girls’ toilet, you know the one Myrtle makes impossible to go in. So, we had a look in - well me and Hermione dragged Ron in since he was being a wuss over spiders and girls.”

“Bet Ron enjoyed that~,” he replied with a smirk, propping his feet on another section of table.

“I’ve never seen someone fuss so badly over nothing,” Susan asided, giving a grumpy prod at his shoe. It did nothing to make him move.

Raising his other eyebrow, Draco said only one word: “Screamer.”

She looked highly affronted. “Oh, I’ll admit to being terrified of trolls, giant three-headed dogs, being pushed into long falls-” She gave him an extra stern glare. “- killer plants and creepy frozen cats hanging up, but come on. It’s just spiders and girls.”

Draco made a mental note to not inform Susan that Acromantula were a thing he had learned existed, according to a bestiary he’d read a fortnight ago.

“Anyway,” she continued, as if there had been no interruption, “We tried to ask Myrtle if she’d seen anything, but all she did was whinge about herherher and how nobody cares. And then she flooded the damn floor again, so my cloak got all damp and my shoes need some serious scrubbing.” Pouting, she crossed her arms, nudging his feet with one of hers, trying to get them off the table. She was met with stern, but passive resistance. “So where have you been, anyway? I know Neville’s been held up by Snape all week, but what’s your excuse for ducking out so much?”

The pale blond lowered his book and gave a sigh. It was a very drawn out sigh indeed.

“Mother has decided I am joining the Slytherin Quidditch team. Father has assured it by buying the squad a full set of 2001s. So, I’ve been in practice. A lot of practice.” Susan’s foot shoving stopped dead at his words.

“Oh. Um. Do you like it?” she tentatively asked.

Draco gave a shrug. “It’s fun. Not that that matters, but it is.”

Susan gave him a shrewd look. Her mouth scrunched one way, then the other, before finally. “You like being up in the air and the feeling of freedom. But you hate that it’s not your choice.” It wasn’t a question. Draco only grunted in response. Groaning, Susan put her hand on her chin. “What are you going to do, then?”

He shrugged. “Just do it, I guess. Not like there’s much point trying to say no-”

“Hey, Susan!”

They both looked over to see Justin Finch-Fletchley, a boy from Susan’s house, waving as he approached. Susan waved back, offering him a seat.

“Oh, hello… Malfoy.” Justin’s expression became rather reserved as he saw Draco. He sat nonetheless, rifling through his bag to pull out a roll of parchment; probably Snape’s latest essay. “Sorry to bother you, Susan, but I was just wondering, when you said about the leeches-” He unravelled the roll and pointed to what looked like some part of a recipe. “Did you mean to stew them or pickle them or neither?”

Taking a look over the essay, Susan read a few lines, before her brow furrowed a little. “Hmm, there’s a few things not right here. Hmm. Hang on, I’ll need to have a think.” Pulling her own roll out of her satchel, she had a quick scan and comparison. Draco returned to his book once more, largely losing interest in the newcomer. “Right, right. I think I see; Harry had a similar thing going on, we could ask him about-”

“Oh!” Justin’s eyes shot wide and he suddenly yanked his parchment away, stuffing it back into his bag. “No need, no need! I think I see; thanks anyway!” And all of a sudden, he was gone. Susan blinked at Draco, both of them taken aback.

“Well goodbye then. I guess,” she muttered.

“Who was that?” asked a familiar nosy voice from behind Draco’s ear. He started. “Granger, did you have to do that?”

“Do what?” she replied absentmindedly, sliding between him and a bookshelf and taking a seat by Susan. “Neville finally got out of detention.” She smoothed out her jumper before excavating a colossal tome from her bag and landing it on the table with a heavy thunk. “Feet off,” she added, shooting Draco an irritated look. He did no such thing.

“And I could not be gladder to be free!” Neville chimed in, again, from right behind Draco’s ear.

“AH! Go around, go around!” He hissed in annoyance. “Hasn’t anyone heard of personal space?”

Mercifully, Ron at least had the good sense to do so, sitting between him and Hermione. Grouchily, Draco got back to his reading again, barely noticing the arrival of Harry and Ginny. A peaceful sort of quiet reigned for a time. Harry, Hermione, Susan and Draco were homework free, with Ron and Neville busying away at Snape’s doomscroll and Ginny on whatever she’d been set. Draco and Hermione read while Harry idly practised at catching random things Susan levitated at him. However, the peace came to a predictable end when Ron finished his essay. It started harmlessly - he and Harry struck up a conversation over quidditch, which immediately sent Ginny into procrastination mode to join in. Aaand then…

“Tut!” Ron glanced at the source - Hermione.

“What?” he demanded with a small scowl.

“What is it with you all and Quidditch?” came her curt reply. Ron and Ginny’s nostrils flared in unison, while Harry gave a small groan.

“It’s amazing is what!” Ginny blurted. Ron took a much more measured approach.

“Hermione, Quidditch is not just a game! It’s a culture! A way of life!” Well, a relatively more measured approach. “Damn sight more interesting than being shut home reading all day, too!”

“Yes, Ron, you’re such a cultured person.~”

Draco did not laugh at Hermione’s quip. He did, however internally recognise that it was apt. That was all. Both Weasleys were riled into full fighting mode now, though. Identically flushed, they leaned over at their opponent, while Harry could only look on in pessimism. Neville and Susan consciously ignored it all, the former focussing on his work and the latter grabbing a random book off the shelf behind her to bury her nose in.

“Oi! Don’t get smart with my brother!” Ginny stuck out her tongue in protest while Ron compiled his rebuttal.

“But there’s so much to Quidditch, though! The plays, the brooms, the player transfers, the ins and out of the league! It’s the single best game in the world.”

Hermione gave a pronounced sniff. “Yes, I’m sure there’s such elegant thought at play. It’s so intellectual, I don’t doubt. No wait, I do doubt. Highly.” Her nose actually looked pointed upwards, too. Draco could only roll his eyes.

“Granger, we don’t come into your world and complain about all your mudblood things,” he drawled. The atmosphere shifted at once.

Susan’s head drooped slowly onto the pages of the book she had held in front of her face.

As one, the heads of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny swivelled in Draco’s direction, identical, foreboding looks on each countenance. Neville gave a little squeak and got up, slipping his work away and swishing on his cloak.

“Oh, I really need togetgoingguysseeyouatdinner!” And he was gone in a flash.

Draco noticed the looks, peering over his book. “What?”

Ron was flaming red in the face as he glowered ominously at him.

“Apologise.”

Draco frowned, curiously, shutting the book.

“Whatever for?” His eyes danced over the four, askance.

Hermione gave a “Harrumph!” She got up and looked down at him. She opened her mouth, like she wanted to say something, but stopped short and closed it again. She spun on her heel, abandoning her effects, and fled. Ron started.

“Hermione!” Leaping up, he dashed right after her, the pair vanishing from sight between the bookshelves of the library. A fuming Ginny glanced at Harry, before mumbling something about having work to do. As she got up, Harry followed suit. He began resolutely and carefully packing Hermione’s things into her bag. When he was done, he lingered for a moment, seemingly unsure of something. But then he coughed and turned away, heading in the general direction of Hermione’s flight.

With the two now left alone, Susan lowered the book that she’d buried her face in. She gave Draco a long, fatigued look.

“Why do you make being friends so hard?”


Hermione sat, legs swaying between the bannisters. The hooting of owls surrounded her - and the smell, too. It wasn’t the most ideal hidey hole for comfort, but it was effective seclusion. Well, almost seclusion.

The creak of the floorboards heralded the coming of the ginger.

“Hermione.” He ascended quickly, circled round the railing and sat down next to her. “He’s an idiot, yaknow.” His voice was a bit gruffer than usual, as if unaccustomed to use. “I mean, sure he’s my friend. But he’s…” His nose crinkled. “He’s just been raised bad. I don’t think he can help it - at least not yet. Hope he gets there some day.”

Hermione’s only response was a throaty murmur. Ron sighed, scratching the back of his head.

“Hey, you wanna go grab a book of magical creatures and see what random things we can find?” She glanced at him oddly. He had the most peculiarly warm smile on his face. Idly, she played with a strand of hair and nodded.

“Yes. That’d… be nice.”


‘That damn elf!’

‘Again?

‘Yep! Enchanted a bludger on Harry! It broke his arm and then Lockhart tried to fix it but just removed his arm bones! He had to spend the whole night in the hospital wing being regrown! The elf showed up to demand your handing over again.’

‘Ouch! Give him my best wishes, won’t you?’

‘I will! We’ve still got no idea why he’s after us, but he seems to know about this Chamber of Secrets madness that’s going on.’

‘Not too surprising; it’s not like it’d be easy to keep that a secret.’

‘Oh, on a related note, Harry’s little stalker got himself petrified too.’

‘Colin, correct? Oh dear, though at least he’s alive. You came across as almost… hostile though. What is the matter?’

Looking up from the book, Ginny gave her sugar quill a quick chew in thought. After some mulling over, she gave a sort of answer.

‘I don’t know. Colin’s- he’s- eh. I don’t really like him.’

‘Because of all the time he spends around Harry?’

Even more quill-chewing. Ginny gave a huffing frown and a shrug, not really finding an answer. She kicked her feet and “hmm”ed and “haa”d, but couldn’t really land on the how to describe things. Her face lolled into the sofa material and she stared at the book. Finally, not even picking up her head, she brought her quill to the page and write crookedly.

‘I dunno.’

‘Maybe something to think on, then.’

‘That s fair. I’ll give it time. Good night, Tom.’

‘Good night, Sweet Ginny.’

She flushed a little. Sure, it sounded kind of silly, but it was goofily nice in a way. Nobody ever spoke to her like that. Humming to herself, she shut the book. She probably should get up and go to actual bed, but her lids were too heavy. She was out like a light by the warmth of the fire. A soft, sourceless breeze swept across her face, ruffling her hair, only slightly.

If one listened very closely, it might have been possible to make out a tiny, single laugh resonating from the book.


‘Okay, I might not like him… but Snape is amazing with a wand.’

‘Lockha rt’s little duelling club went well, then?’

‘Not… really. Draco conjured a snake… and everyone freaked when I could talk to it.’

Tom didn’t reply for a very long time indeed.

Harry waited and waited before finally:

‘You what?

“Thank s for the reassurance, Tom…” Harry muttered to Ginny. She sniggered and sipped her drink.

‘I’m a Parselmouth - I tried to yell the snake off, but everyone pretty much lost their minds.’

‘I am… not surprised that they did - Parselmouths are not well regarded. They are usually associated with Salazar Slytherin and dark magic.’

Harry stared, thunderstruck, at the words on the page. He wasn’t happy with that idea. Not one bit.

‘So, are you saying that I’m darc? Or something?’

‘N ot at all - it is only an association born of history. You are you, Harry. That said… it is a most curious ability. You are from a noble family, are you not? It’s possible you have some relation to Slytherin. (It is spelt “dark”.)’

Harry’ s eyes almost bugged out of his head. Related to Salazar Slytherin? The very idea made his blood turn to ice.


Susan tore into the circle of chairs with fury, dumping her bag with a clunk. Neville squawked and had to stop himself falling off his chair. Slapping her cloak over the back of her chosen seat, she sat, fuming. Her gloves were next, mercilessly yanked off and thrust with undue vitriol into the bag. Harry and Ron stared.

“I can’t believe Ernie!” she hissed, angrily. At their confusion, she began to elaborate. “He told Justin to hide! To crawl under a rock and hide! From you of all people!” She jabbed a finger at Harry.

“He did what?” he asked, rather flabbergasted.

“It’s because of the duelling club, you know because of the snake thing. He’s convinced you’re the terrible heir of Slytherin and are going to hit Justin next, you know what with him being Muggle-born, so he’s just been non-stop freaking out over you. Spent half the morning in the library trying to tell me how unhealthy it was of me to hang around with you. And he’s-” she put her voice into as deep and pompous a tone as she could. “-‘advised Justin strongly to remain safely in the common room where Potter can’t get to him.’ I just can’t deal with him now.” She snorted and shredded the packaging of her chocolate frog. The helpless treat found its head immediately enclosed by teeth, followed by Susan tearing its twitching body away.

Harry gave a long sigh. “I officially hate Salazar Slytherin. This is all such a mess now.” He gingerly rubbed his temple as Susan devoured the frog. After swallowing, she continued, unabated.

“Thanks Ernie! Great to hear your input, Ernie! I’m so glad for your concern, Ernie. I just love to be told what is and isn’t good for me, Ernie. I mean it’s not like I can think for myself or anything.~”

“I’m sure he means well,” Neville piped up, with an air of worry. “He just… worries too much is all.” Susan only grumbled mutinously in response.

Any further thoughts she had, however, were cut off by a strangled scream. The sound of heavy footfalls filled their corner and Ernie MacMillan burst onto the scene. He looked furious, panting for breath as his eyes fixed firmly on Harry. He pointed a trembling finger at his target.

“CHANGE HIM BACK! CHANGE HIM BACK NOW!” he roared, turning heads all around him as he towered over Harry. For his part, Harry stammered out in confusion.

“I- w-what? Change-” He was cut off by Ernie almost bending over him in rage.

“CHANGE JUSTIN AND NICK BACK! NOW! I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!”

Harry stared agape at the boy, trying to process but failing badly. From behind Ernie, the kindly blonde form of Hannah Abbot, a fellow Hufflepuff, arrived. She put her hand on Susan’s shoulder.

“There’s been another attack. Justin and Nearly Headless Nick.”


‘And then the hat said I would have made a good Slytherin.’

‘I wouldn’t call that necessarily something to worry about, though Harry. Your friend, Draco, is a Slytherin, is he not? I myself was also a Slytherin, for that matter. I fear you are allowing the views of others to cloud your own.’

‘I wish I could believe you.’

‘You will in time. There is nothing about you to ever feel ashamed of, Harry.’

‘Take your word for it, I guess. Anyway, Dumbledore doesn’t think it’s me, but Ernie’s on the warpath. Hagrid still ducks around it when me and Ginny try to bring up what you showed her, though.’

‘Very suspicious. But you said Dumbledore trusts him? There is clearly more going on than what I saw in my time.’

‘Yeah. I just wish I knew what.’


Chri stmas was a largely uneventful affair, with Ginny being somewhat amusing with how she “ooh”ed and “aah”ed at the splendour of Hogwarts in the Christmas season. Harry had secured for Ginny a set of enchanted mittens that warmed to the touch as her present. She had been much appreciative, wearing them all over the place. They had not seen ‘Sméagol’ again, though they remained on the lookout. The two could only suppose that his owner was keeping him occupied.

Draco had been more withdrawn, in the company of Crabbe and Goyle mostly, but occasionally Pansy Parkinson and a couple others. He’d been less and less around ever since the incident with Hermione - and when he had, he had been rather quiet. Susan, by contrast, had been constantly grumpy, supplying a constant feed of her housemates’ latest attempts to convince her to avoid ‘That Potter boy’. If nothing else, she was rather animate about her grievances. Neville had begun looking through Herbology books after taking an interest in a discarded one Hermione had finished reading. He had not been entirely lost to them, but he now spent much less time actually talking to them. Ron and Hermione were as always. They bickered.

All through January, there were no more attacks. As Febuary set in, the student body seemed on the verge of moving on. Professor Sprout was excitedly telling anyone who would listen that the Mandrakes were approaching their second repotting, meaning that the victims were not too far off from revival now. Ernie was not letting up, however, insistent on making sure as few people as possible forgot that not only was the attacker still at large, but that it was probably definitely Harry.

One morning, as they were filing into Lockhart’s classroom, they caught the tail end of what looked like a long conversation boast.

“Yes, I firmly believe that the ‘heir’ - if there ever was one - got cold feet. Realised I was on the verge of cracking down hard and decided to quit while he or she was ahead.”

Hermione’s reaction was utterly unsurprising. Her gaze misted over and she stopped dead, ogling. Harry and Ron gave a simultaneous groan and each took an arm, guiding the girl to her seat. For once, Draco joined them, sitting next to Ron. As Hermione slumped dreamily, chin propped on her hand, Draco took the opportunity to mutter quietly to Ron.

“I’m sorry for your loss.~” His grin was punchable. But alas, they were in class - and also friends - so Ron thought better of it. Instead he flicked a bent quill at him and got out a new one. At the front, Lockhart was still rambling. Poor Professor Flitwick looked more and more like he regretted ever entering the room, much less starting the one-sided conversation he was now party to.

“It’s only sensible; wouldn’t have been pleasant for this to get out of hand after all. What we need now is a pick-me-up for the students, something to cleanse the mental palette.” Lockhart swished his little cape off his shoulder and draped it over his desk chair. “I know exactly what that should entail! But let it be a surprise for now. Good speaking with you, Professor, now if it’s not too rude of me, I am afraid I have a class to teach.”

Flitwick did not need telling twice, scurrying from the classroom without a backwards look. Lockhart began the lesson in his usual fashion; a volunteer request for a demonstration. Harry tried to not be seen, but inevitably was and was brought up front for today’s pantomime humiliation. Hermione barely shifted, just idly staring at Lockhart and occasionally doodling little hearts on a scrap of parchment. Ron only got more and more of a twitchy eye. Finally, there was a tiny sound of his quill snapping. Based on his expression, it took everything Draco had to not laugh out loud. He did not seem beyond temptation, however.

“You are completely doomed, Ron.”

“Doom you in a minute,” he muttered back.

“Sssh! Gilderoy’s speaking.” Hermione whispered, irritably. Was that a slight bit of drool in the corner of her mouth? It was, to Ron’s ire.


Lockhart’s plans were made hilariously clear on the morning of the fourteenth. Pink. All of the pink in the universe. With streamers, confetti, bunting and floating signs. The great hall had been transformed into the single most garish thing Draco had ever laid eyes upon. He took it all in and started, like a deer.

“… He’s not serious.”

“Who’s no-ooh good heavens!” Susan stopped dead right behind him, her mouth hanging open. “It’s very, er… bright. I mean, I like pink and all but this is… too much.”

Draco only nodded, dumbly. At the Gryffindor table, Ron was visible forcing down his food as fast as possible in disgust. Not quickly enough, it seemed

For then came the dwarves. Neville, just behind the pair, skittered aside in alarm to escape the sudden march of dwarves that began their advance into the hall. Each one was decked from head to toe in a garish pixie outfit, and cradling little matching harps. Draco felt his entire face shrivel and curl in revulsion as he watched the abomination parade into the hall, twanging their harps. They marched in step, like some perverse military, drawing up to the staff table.

“Draco… that wasn’t what I thought it was, was it?” Neville asked, in fear.

“I am afraid, Neville, that it was.”

No sooner had they scoffed down their food as awkwardly as possible, did the group evacuate the great hall in earnest. On their way through the doors, Ron asked, or more accurately pleaded, that Hermione hadn’t sent Lockhart a Valentines. She mumbled. And mumbled. And mumbled. Draco burst into full frontal laughter at the sight. Choking over his mirth, he managed to nonetheless speak.

“Granger, you make it extortionately hard to take you seriously, you know?”

Anarchy and terror reigned across Hogwarts that day, with dwarves invading every space in the castle and enforcing their insipid, cringeworthy ditties. On the way to Herbology, Malfoy locked eyes with a dwarf making a beeline for him. Quick off the mark, he ran, vanishing for the rest of school classes. He spent his day ducking, dodging and weaving, trying to fully lose his pursuer. He managed to use the sheer crowd in the Great Hall for cover at lunch time for just long enough to wolf down a few sandwiches before his dwarf made him and the chase resumed. He travelled through dozens of previously unknown corridors, secret passages and rooms - even at one point entering a door on the seventh floor to find himself in a literal maze, which gave him a large amount of breathing room and somehow exited exactly where he’d entered, with the dwarf lost within.

Even that had not saved him in the end, however. Slippery as he was, the dwarf was some kind of master tracker and caught him in a fifth-floor storage room. His valentine was from Pansy, unsurprisingly, and was ripped straight out of an old literature book unless he was much mistaken. After he was released, he didn’t really feel like going back to classes and facing Pansy. Instead, he went to the owlery to pet the family owl and de-stress from his near-death experience.

The eagle owl was quite happy to have a visit and was eagerly gobbling up bits of bacon he’d brought, when Draco heard a thud, followed by hurried footsteps. Hermione burst into the room a moment later, shutting the door behind her in a panic. Her wand was out and she immediately charmed the door, locking it firmly. Letting out a breath, she turned and slid down it, sucking in huge swathes of oxygen. Draco blinked.

“Dwarf?” he asked.

Dwarf.”

A sharp rattling sounded at the door, prompting Hermione to scoot up and run to the opposite wall, pointing her wand at the door.

“They’re bloody unstoppable!” she hissed, “I jelly-legs’d him and he just kept coming!”

Nodding warily, he pulled out his own wand. The door shook a few more times, before falling still. A couple seconds later, there was the shuffling of feet, the sound moving away.

A creak sounded all around them.

Hermione struggled to hold her breath in, whipping her wand around at each window in turn. Draco joined her. The memory of his own valentine fresh in his mind. This better not have been sent by Ron - even Draco drew the line at inflicting this on a mudblood.

Another creak. A thunk. The owls were becoming jittery, cawing and rustling around nervously.

Straining his ears, Draco tried his utmost to listen out. It was in vain.

In a flash, a stunted, pink barrel shape wielding a very sinister harp catapulted through a window neither were watching. Suddenly, they were both wandless and the dwarf was sitting on the back of a face-down Hermione. He began strumming a sickly tune that made Draco’s lip curl.

“‘Eremione Granger; ‘ere is your singing Valentine:

There once was a bella,

‘Oo was fiendishly cleva, Wiv a face of delight, An’ an internal might, Just perfect she was, For the family, no flaws, A great match she made, For our son, a fair trade,-”

Draco’s cringing snapped into alarm at once. No. Please no.

“-Radiant beauty and brains, To match fortune and fame, So, an offer, we make, We so hope you will take,-”

As the words reached his ears, he just wanted to curl up and die. They could have. They couldn’t have.

“-The promise of our boy, Now don’t be too coy,”

They did. They actually did. Draco could only stand riveted to the spot in horror as the dwarf sang out the last lines.

“-For purity of blood, To conquer the mud, We offer to you our Dray~co!”

No sooner was he done, did the dwarf hop up off Hermione’s back. “You’re welcome.” Wasting absolutely no time, he went to the window, clambering out of it and vanishing. Sitting up, Hermione looked beet red. She awkwardly coughed as she stood up, taking her wand with her.

“I am… so sorry about that,” Draco said, equally red. “My parents are. They are. Um. Yeah.”

Hermione said nothing, but nodded, seemingly trying to simultaneously scrunch and not scrunch her face up. With a flick of her wand, the door swung open. She tapped her foot, not meeting his eyes. She cleared her throat and turned to leave. As she did so, a small scrap of paper fluttered out of her sleeve.

“Hey, wait, you dropped this!” Malfoy scooped it up and held it out. Written on it, rather clearly, was handwriting: ‘His hair is as red as fire a tiger a traffic cone treacle

Eyes widening, Hermione made a high-pitched noise and swiped it back. It was Draco’s turn to cough awkwardly. He forced his mouth to work.

“Okay, this… none of this ever happened. You okay with that?” He offered, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible.

“Alright,” she said, with a failing attempt to look composed. “This never happened.” And without another word, she departed, leaving Draco alone to curse his parents.


As the month wore on, excitement began mounting around the approaching Quidditch game. Susan was, naturally, not rooting for Harry, seeing as it was Hufflepuff he was playing against, but she’d wished him luck the other day, regardless. It was a fine morning for it, too. Harry was taking his time getting ready - he’d had a nice long shower and was just about done with his teeth.

“Hey, good luck, Harry!” Dean called, patting him on the back as he walked past.

“Thanks.” Harry grinned at him. He dipped his head to have a quick drink from the tap, hearing the bathroom door swing shut behind him. Wanting to check his teeth one last time, he looked up into the mirror.

And saw yellow.

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