Tuesday January 5
"Evening Harry."
"Evening Sev," Harry said flatly as he exited Snape's office floo, brushing soot from his robes as he went. "Am I the last one?"
"You are," Snape said, watching him calmly from his desk. "Ronald and Draco arrived only minutes ago, you can likely catch them if you hurry."
"Pft," Harry scoffed and instead chose to sit across from Snape and tap his fingernail on the armrest of the chair. "Ron still isn't talking to me, is he?"
"Ronald most likely simply needs— "
"Time, yeah I know," Harry interrupted Snape with an irritated roll of his eyes. "I've given him time, and he still didn't talk to me all of break! We all got together and Ron said he wasn't coming. I spent the last week with his brothers and not a word from him!"
"It has barely been two weeks," Snape said patiently. "Give him more time and I am certain he will see the situation more clearly."
"I suppose you're gonna tell me that killing Nagini won't make Ron get over it?" Harry guessed shrewdly.
Snape sighed, looking exhausted.
Probably from all the work he'd had to do over break.
"No Harry, killing the Dark Lord's pet will not earn you forgiveness for a wrongdoing you are, for once, innocent of."
"We'll see," Harry quipped, getting to his feet now with a cheeky smirk. "Barty was all for us killing Nagini, he even said he'd help me break in to Malfoy's place this summer to see if we can't get Bellatrix and Nagini both in one go."
Harry just laughed as Snape summoned a pain reliever as he left the office. He didn't know why Snape was so against his plans, it's not like Harry was skipping school to do them. He wrapped all his plots around school breaks, really he was a model student. Snape should be pleased.
By Friday morning though, Harry was sick of 'giving Ron time' and sick of 'being patient'.
"Is he seriously sitting over there again?" he demanded when he threw his book bag under his spot at the Slytherin table.
"Yep." Susan glared across the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table where Ron was sitting with George and Ginny. "He's being an idiot."
"He's sad," Draco said hotly, defending his new best friend apparently. "And Harry isn't helping by ignoring him in the dorm."
"I am not ignoring him," Harry hissed. "He said he didn't want to talk when we got back so I'm not fuckin talking to him, am I?"
"Well he can't ignore you at quidditch practice tomorrow," Hermione pointed out logically, sending Ron a soft look of pity that Harry was glad to not be the recipient of. "Maybe try talking to him then?"
"He's this close," Harry held his index finger half an inch from his thumb, "to being kicked out of the gang."
Draco's jaw dropped for a moment before he caught himself and cleared his expression to something more neutral. "That's not fair," he said. "Ron's not hurting you. He just doesn't want to talk to you right now."
"Oh yeah?" Harry curled his upper lip hatefully. "Is that what your best friend has been saying?"
"Shut up Harry," Draco sighed and poured them both coffee that Harry accepted with bad grace.
"I told him he's burning a bridge, I told him he's not thinking right, but he is sad," Draco stressed. "It's hard to separate you from— from what happened," he said quietly, his grey eyes flicking towards Fred.
Harry also glanced at Fred, but Fred was just listlessly poking at his eggs. It was nearly painful to see Fred so dull when he'd always associated him with bright cheer. But Harry probably wouldn't be too cheerful if his dad had been killed by a giant snake, something Snape reminded him of right before he went to Grimmauld the first time over break.
Harry had expected to see a bunch of sad red-heads. He steeled himself to deal with tears and messy emotions. Hermione gave him a pep talk on how to be comforting to people who were grieving. What he had not expected was to have Ginny Weasley say that Harry was an evil curse or that things would be better if he were the one who died. And he definitely hadn't expected Ron to stand there like an idiot while Ginny said that shit. He'd brushed off Ron's belief that Harry should have told Dumbledore that he had the prophecy as something stupid he said while upset. Ron was at the meeting when Harry decided that they would keep the prophecy's location to themselves. Harry even double checked his notes as soon as he got home to confirm that Ron didn't have a problem with it then.
Technically, Harry had gotten back to Invisibility Way and planned on kicking Ron out of the gang and possibly killing Ginny Weasley, but Sirius hastily talked him out of it. He said people say things they don't mean when they're grieving and that Ron and Ginny were trying to find a reason to explain away an unreasonable loss.
'Be patient with Ron,' Sirius said. 'He's hurt real bad pup, he needs a friend.'
So Harry told Draco the address for the Order Headquarters, caring not at all that Dumbledore would be pissed once he found out, and knew that Draco could be Ron's friend.
But now there really was only so much patience he was willing to extend.
"Ron's on thin fuckin ice," Harry said, using one of Snape's muggle expressions. "I'm not dealing with this forever."
Harry had much more important things to do. Like quidditch practice, and starting the defense club back up. He also had to coordinate with Susan to remind all the members of the gang about their meeting in mid-March and he was having to keep up his Occlumency shields almost constantly to keep Timmy out of his head.
So, no. He really didn't have time to deal with Ron's stupid emotions.
"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKIN MIND?!"
Harry was furious. So mad that his vision had went a bit red and he had to tighten his hands in to fists to keep from cursing Ron.
Ron, who was standing in the middle of the quidditch pitch, glaring at him now.
Harry had started practice at the usual time for Saturday's, six, and it was eight o'clock now and Ron had finally decided to grace them with his appearance. Then he opened his mouth and sent Harry off in an immediate fury when he said he was resigning from the team.
"Sorry I don't feel like playing quidditch," Ron said with a sarcastic sneer. "My dad did just die Harry."
"And you quitting the team is meant to bring him back?" Harry demanded. "It's January Ron, how am I supposed to replace you before our game in March?!"
The rest of the team landed quietly, watching the showdown between the captain and assistant captain with wide eyes.
"You don't get it!" Ron yelled. "I don't care about games or flying or any of it! It's pointless! My dad's never going to be here to see any it!"
Don't curse him. Don't curse him. Don't curse him.
"Neither's mine, but you don't see me crying about it!"
"Well you've never really given much of a damn about your parents, have you?"
Fuck it.
Harry lurched forward and used his already conveniently clenched fist to hit Ron right in his mouth. He had a moment of satisfaction when he saw Ron's eyes widen and his lip split from the impact, right up until Ron grabbed the front of Harry's robes and hit him back, hard enough to shatter his glasses and send them flying.
Trent screamed, and someone tiny and blonde, either Daphne or Draco, tried to break them apart, but it was well past that.
"You're- so- selfish- sometimes-" Ron yelled, emphasizing each word with a hard punch to Harry's ribs.
"You hit like a first year," Harry spat, driving his knee up in to Ron's stomach, causing the other boy to let out an oomph of pain.
"You don't care about anyone," Ron hissed, landing an open hand slap to Harry's ear.
Harry ignored both the muted shouts from their teammates and the ringing in his left ear as he used a good kick to knock Ron on the ground where Harry could hit him much more effectively.
"I cared about you, you fucking dick," Harry said, driving his fist as hard as he could in to Ron's stomach. "I sent hot chocolate with Draco for you, didn't I?"
Ron, who was actually a much better fighter than Harry would have guessed, grabbed Harry by the hair and used the leverage to flip them until he was on top of Harry and able to punch his throat with enough force to knock the air right out of him.
"You thought it was funny, having everyone look for that thing." Ron jumped to his feet while Harry was still struggling for air and aimed two quick and cheap kicks to Harry's already burning side. Harry bit back a hiss as he was pretty sure Ron cracked a rib. "And I don't like hot chocolate!"
Harry glared viciously at the kid he befriended on a train. The same guy who once threw mud at Bulstrode for insulting him and went down in the Chamber with him to fight a basilisk. The friend that had spent an hour picking out an owl with Harry. The person who kept blaming Harry for a death that he didn't actually cause.
Harry reached out quick as a snake and grabbed Ron's ankle with a sharp tug, knocking him flat on his back.
"You didn't complain when we made that decision," Harry gasped, quickly getting to his feet and putting one boot on Ron's neck before he had a chance to move. "You didn't say a fuckin word then. And everyone likes hot chocolate you moron. It's supposed to make you happy."
Ron, rather fearlessly, spat a mouthful of bloody saliva up towards Harry. Which was daft, considering it just fell back on his own shoulder. "How was I supposed to know what would happen?"
Harry put some pressure on Ron's neck, watching as his pupils dilated from the restricting air flow. "How was I?" Harry asked, calm now as he always was when he was in control. "Tell me HOW THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW RON? HOW?"
Ron's eyes glazed over, either from some emotion Harry couldn't pinpoint or from the lack of oxygen that was making his face darken. Harry didn't really care much which it was.
"You know everything," Ron gasped out, sounding desperate now. "You always do."
Harry shoved away whichever person was brave enough to grab his shoulder and focused on applying a bit more pressure to Ron's throat.
"You think I wouldn't have made a different decision if I'd known?" Harry yelled. "You think I'm some monster who would have sacrificed your family for a joke?" Harry pushed down harder, equally furious and hurt now. "Is that what you really think of me?"
Ron gasped, his face turning an unhealthy shade of purple from the lack of air. Harry abruptly took his foot off Ron's neck and repaid his earlier cheap shots by kicking him once in the side just as hard as he had done to him.
"I'm not a monster," he said quietly. "If that's what you think then we're done. You can quit the team and you're out of the gang."
Harry would wipe his memory, erase every word he'd ever even whispered from his head. And if he fucked up and took too much? That also fell in to the category of things that weren't his problem.
Ron was wheezing, massaging his throat and trying to swallow mouthfuls of air. Tears were pouring from his eyes as he stared up at Harry. "You didn't know?" he gasped out.
Harry shook his head at Ron's pathetically weak question. "How could I?" Harry backed away, leaving Ron to get to his feet by himself. "I never would have done that to Fred, or to you. We're supposed to be friends."
Ron was shaky, his knees wobbling as he stood and stared at Harry, as if seeing him clearly now.
"I'm a shit friend," Ron said in a hoarse whisper, wiping the tears off his face. "And you didn't kill my dad."
"You finally got a couple things right," Harry said coolly.
The two of them stared at each other, both bruised and bleeding, until Ron's upper lip quivered just the slightest amount. "Were you going to suffocate me in front of all these witnesses?"
Harry threw a careless look at the teammates standing behind him and shrugged. "I would have wiped their memory afterwards," he said.
"That's a shit plan," Ron said with a weak chuckle.
"Well you broke my fuckin rib, didn't you?" Harry said, feeling the sharp sting with every inhale he took.
"Sorry about that," Ron said airily, "but since you got even by crushing my neck with your boot..." he trailed off with a shrug.
Harry looked over at his team again and rolled his eyes at their huddle and uncertain expressions. "Practice is over," he called to them. "Go to breakfast or whatever you lot do when you're not here."
Trent immediately scrambled away, followed by the others. Although Draco shot Ron and Harry both an odd look that Harry hissed at him for.
It was satisfying sometimes, seeing people still so blatantly scared of Parsletongue. Especially when Harry usually just made up the most ridiculous swears, knowing nobody could understand them.
Ron waited until the others were gone before he took an unsure step towards Harry.
"You didn't kill my dad," he repeated again.
As if Harry didn't already know that, thanks.
"Took you long enough," Harry sneered. "But I'm going to kill the snake that did kill him, if that helps any."
Ron seemed to actually have to think that over, which was ridiculous. If he was pissed at Harry for some random decision he'd made months ago, pissed enough to throw punches, then he better be just as angry at the actual snake who killed Arthur.
"Can I help?"
Harry tilted his head and studied Ron carefully through half-hooded eyes.
"Not if you're out of the gang," he eventually decided. "It's a war Ron, you have to pick a side and be loyal."
Ron took a deep breath, the slight rattle coming from his chest making Harry think he had done a bit more damage than he meant to him, and pulled himself up tall.
"Harry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the things I said, and for blaming you. You were right, I didn't argue about the plan over the summer, and it wasn't fair for me to do it now. Can—" Ron looked unsure, chewing on his lip for a moment as he hesitated, "Can we still be friends?"
"You just broke my rib," Harry said drily. "And now you wanna be friends?"
"I..." Ron trailed off and looked around him before plucking up a bent and broken pair of silver frames and grinning at Harry. "I broke your glasses too."
Harry stared incredulously at Ron for a long moment before letting out a huff of a laugh. What a prat.
"Are you coming?" he asked Ron, setting off a bit blindly towards the castle.
Ron set off in a jog to catch up, causing him to wince even as he grinned at Harry slyly.
"You throw a mean punch," he said.
"You don't do bad yourself," Harry begrudgingly admitted.
There weren't a lot of things that could be fixed with a good old fashioned muggle fight, but this apparently seemed to be one of them.
The detention Snape gave them when Harry and Ron arrived in the Great Hall looking like they'd just beaten the hell out of each other was almost worth it too. So was the rapid paling of Ron's face when Harry informed him that he was on his last chance with the gang.
"Next time you act like a prat you're out," Harry said cheerfully. "D'you really not like hot chocolate?"
Another plus of solving his differences with Ron was that it gave Harry an excellent idea for the next step in the Defense Club.
"You can't be serious," Hermione deadpanned when Harry told them about it the night before the club resumed.
"He is," Susan grinned. "I love it."
Harry wasn't running a democracy, a fancy word for 'everyone gets a vote' that Blaise taught him, but he did want everyone's opinions.
"Dray? Lue? What d'you guys think?"
"I think I'm going to be exceptionally bad at it," Luna said with a bright smile. "And Draco isn't going to like it one bit."
"I already don't," Draco agreed.
Harry didn't ask Fred, mostly because Fred didn't seem to be listening anyway, and he knew what Ron's opinion was. He also knew Theo would agree with Hermione.
"Nev?" Harry gave Neville a hopeful look but frowned when he saw Neville wasn't paying attention either.
Neville had been quiet lately, but Harry just assumed it was from Bellatrix escaping and visiting his parents over break. But here Harry was, eager to share his ideas with everyone, and Neville was just frowning down at a blank essay in front of him.
"Hey, what's up?" Harry poked him a bit harder than necessary. "Everything alright?"
Neville looked startled, as if Harry hadn't been trying to talk to him the last couple of minutes, and then his frown deepened.
"No," he said. "I need to talk to you." Neville looked around at the others and nodded. "All of you."
Harry and Susan exchanged a look, and Harry immediately put up a strong protective bubble around their table. Everyone, even Fred now, gave Neville a serious look of attention.
"Dumbledore came to my Gram during break," he said baldly. "He wants me to report back to him what we talk about."
"He wants you to be a spy?" Theo asked, his eyes narrowed and glittering dangerously.
"Basically," Neville admitted. He looked at Harry, his hazel eyes solemn and serious. "I told him no Harry, right in front of Gram. Told him I wouldn't do it."
"Good man," Fred slapped Neville's shoulder approvingly.
"Does that mean Dumbledore's going to ask the rest of us to do it?" Blaise asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes at the thought.
"Probably," Ron said thoughtfully. "Five galleons that he doesn't ask Draco though."
"Why not me?" Draco asked, looking affronted. He stuck his pointed nose up in the air haughtily. "I could be an excellent spy."
"You'd be a traitor," Susan said flatly. "And traitors are executable."
That got Draco's nose back to a normal position as he grimaced. "I was kidding."
"But Dumbledore isn't," Neville said. "He really wants someone to spy on you Harry, he didn't seem happy that I said no."
"And..?" Harry drawled, having a gut instinct that said there was more to this story still.
"And he was insistent," Neville said. "He told Gram that there's 'a trail of unsolved murders' following you, and I was in danger because of our alliance."
"That sanctimonious bastard," Hermione hissed, startling Susan in to a laugh with her swear. "How dare he?"
"I know," Neville slumped in his seat and traced the table with his middle finger. "Gram wants me to honor our alliance, she said that Harry is a good leader, but... but she also seemed upset when Dumbledore told her that there were 'open investigations' surrounding you Harry."
Harry picked at his nails, mostly confused why Neville was so disturbed by this. For all he knew, there were open investigations surrounding him. But they couldn't prove anything, so he wasn't worried.
"If you tell Dumbledore a single word that we talk about I will end your life Neville Longbottom," Susan said harshly. "I don't care what he said—"
"I'm not," Neville hastily assured her. "I told Gram that I wasn't going to, she just didn't seem real pleased with me."
"Well this is the same woman that let your uncle drop you from a balcony, yeah?" Harry checked. "I don't suppose I give much of a damn if she's happy or not."
Neville perked up a little and gave Harry a hesitant look, his eyes round and a bit pleading. "If she kicks me out..."
"You can stay with us," Harry assured him quickly. "I've been wanting an excuse to move to the new place anyway."
All the tension in Neville's shoulders seemed to rush out in a quick release. "Thanks mate."
Harry shrugged and went back to picking at his nails. If it were up to him, he'd have everyone move in to Invisibility Way and spend every holiday together. He'd always dreamed about having a bunch of siblings back when it was just him against the world, and, looking around at his 'misfits', as Snape called them, he didn't think that he could have imagined a group like this even in his wildest dreams.
"And, for the record, I like the idea for the meeting tomorrow," Neville said. "I'm going to get my arse kicked, but I like it."
Conversation switching back to what Harry considered to be leagues more important than Albus Dumbledore, Harry was pleased that Ron, Neville, Susan, Blaise, and Fred were all on board with the defense plan. Hermione and Theo thought it was 'a recipe for disaster', and Draco and Luna were just worried about getting hurt.
"I'll partner you guys up," he told them.
Draco didn't look very reassured, but Harry was certain that Luna had to hide a grin behind her hand at some thought she must have had.
"If I get a drop of blood on my clothes then I will leave," Draco swore.
Harry's list of 'things that weren't his problem' seemed to be growing every day.
"SHUT UP!" Harry yelled the next night. He was dressed in a pair of loose joggers and a long sleeve t-shirt, ready to begin the next phase of defense training. "I need everyone to line up according to height!" he yelled at the ninety or so students who came to the meeting.
Apparently those were difficult directions, which didn't bode well for the students picking up on his next set of instructions very well in his opinion.
Once the students got lined up, Fred and George towards the head of the line, as the tallest, and Trent Bailey in the end as one of the shortest, Harry paced in front of them all.
"I don't know how to teach you to be better at magic," he said with blunt honesty. "For all I know, you might be bloody terrible anyway."
Judging from their first lesson, when over half the students struggled to put up a proper shield, was nothing but the truth.
"But there's more than one way to defend yourself," Harry said, sizing them all up like a general eyeing his soldiers. "Just like the knives you better be carrying, can be a sneak attack that your opponent won't expect— so is this."
Before anyone could react, Harry punched Ron in the stomach.
"I owed you for the cost of my new glasses," he said in a saccharine voice that Ron just winced and nodded at.
Harry needed new glasses anyway, his prescription apparently changed since he was eleven, but Ron also needed a reminder that Harry wasn't putting up with any more drama with his friends.
"We're learning to fight?" Trent asked, his green eyes blown wide.
"Yup." Harry smiled sharply at them, eager to see what happens when a bunch of Wixen kids are taught how to kill a person with their bare hands. "Tonight I'm going to show you how to make a fist that won't break your thumbs, the best places to punch, how to block those punches, and pair you up for fights next week. Yeah?"
Harry felt a small rush of gleeful power when these students, these future leaders in the magical world, all looked at him like he was someone important, someone respectable, and agreed with him.
Harry would need to check, but he was pretty sure neither Dumbledore, nor Timmy, ever had as much power with their peers as he did.
Again, see: Things That Are Not His Problem.