September 1st
"I wish I could go with you," Fred murmured. He ran his hand through Harry's hair, messing up the carefully styled look Harry had achieved that morning.
"Me too," Harry said truthfully. "I'll see you in a few weeks though, right? In Hogsmeade?"
"Not even Timmy himself could keep me away," Fred grinned carelessly, as if that wasn't the specific worry Harry had.
The train behind Harry blared it's horn, sending the students on the platform in to a frenzy.
"Don't forget to call me and tell me about the duels tonight." Fred pulled Harry closer and wrapped his arms around him. "Be a shame if we didn't use Sirius' gift to talk blood and torture, wouldn't it?"
Harry squeezed Fred, trying to force his magic inside of him to keep him safe. He knew he couldn't just 'will the impossible', according to Snape, but he still thought safety, safety, safety, while he hugged him.
"I'll call you tonight," Harry agreed as he reluctantly pulled back. "I don't think that's what the mirrors were meant for though."
"Who cares?" Fred cupped Harry's cheek and ducked his head to kiss him softly. "I love you, Harry, be careful alright?"
"You be careful," Harry said. "And don't fuckin flirt with that assistant of yours."
"Verity?" Fred laughed and kissed the top of Harry's head fondly. "Harry, darlin, you might have missed it with all our snogging and cuddling and that ring on your finger, but I'm gay."
Harry snorted at Fred's earnest tone and looked up at him. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you."
The Hogwarts Express train blared its horn once more, signaling its impending departure.
"Don't die you prat," Harry yelled over his shoulder as he jogged to the platform to board the train.
"You're supposed to say 'I love you'," Fred yelled back at him.
Harry leaned out of the doorway of the train, raising a brow quizzically at Fred. "Isn't that what I said?"
He listened to Fred's laugh and watched his smile and wave as the train began its journey to Hogwarts.
Its journey away from Fred.
Harry's shoulders slumped a little as he stepped in to the corridor to go find his compartment. He knew he shouldn't have gotten attached to someone so strongly.
Who was he going to sleep with at night?
Luna probably wouldn't, since Draco was a jealous git. And even though Susan spent quite a bit of time in the wrong bed last year, he didn't know if she would sleep with him either.
Harry hated sleeping alone.
Harry threw open the door for the compartment he's shared every year with his friends and immediately threw himself across Ron and Draco on the bench nearest the door.
"You cannot already be depressed," Draco sighed as he awkwardly patted the head on his lap. "It's been five minutes."
"Two," Ron corrected Draco. "And it's just Fred, mate, he's not really that great."
"This is the worst day of my life," Harry groaned, feeling pretty dramatic honestly. He could see why Draco was such a fan. "Can I die from this? Can a terrible day actually do me in?"
"We all wish it was that easy," Blaise drawled from the bench opposite them. "Imagine if Timmy could just hide your broomstick and your treacle tart and you'd fall over dead at his feet."
Harry gave another deeply dramatic groan as his friends laughed. He looked around until he saw Trent folded up on the floor next to Luna. "Don't date someone older than you, it's miserable."
"Noted," Trent said seriously. "You don't usually look very miserable."
Harry snorted and moved his head around on Draco's legs until his knees weren't jamming in his head anymore. "Wake me up when the prefects get back, yeah?"
"As if you're going to sleep," Draco scoffed. He did start messing with Harry's hair though, smoothing it down in an incredibly relaxing way. That, along with the rocking motion of the train, did actually make Harry feel tired enough that he might sleep.
Harry lurched off Draco and Ron and nearly hit the floor of the train as the compartment door was thrown open with a harsh bang. He bounced off the floor and had his knife pointed directly at—
Susan.
"Wha— Jesus," Harry shook his head at Susan who was standing there with a grin as if she knew precisely what she was doing. "You're the worst."
"Aah, this brings back such fond memories," Susan laughed as she pushed Blaise's legs off the bench so she can sit. "All we need now is for you to piss off the trolley lady and it'll be first year all over again."
"There's a lot more of us now," Neville pointed out. "And Harry's using a knife instead of his wand."
"That's because he doesn't know where his wand is," Theo said. He and Hermione sat down next to Ron and accepted a snack from Trent with appreciative nods. "You lot seen the new potion Professor yet?"
"Is he on the train?" Ron asked. "They don't usually ride the train, do they?"
"Lupin did," Neville reminded him.
"He's here," Theo told them. "He stopped us in the corridor and asked if we were really friends with Harry Potter or not."
"What'd you say?" Blaise asked him, a grin already forming.
"I told him no," Theo said. "Then someone," he looked at Hermione with fond exasperation, "said we are."
"If I don't meet the new potions professor, then does he even exist?" Harry scowled as he sat on the floor.
Hermione laughed, "Aah, yes, Schrodinger's Potions Professor."
Harry had no idea what that meant, so he just shrugged. He was still pretty put out with Snape for giving up part of his position to 'Horace Slughorn', but having Snape at the castle at all was a boon so Harry tried to not complain too much.
"I'm very disappointed that Professor Snape won't be teaching us," Luna said sadly, echoing Harry's thoughts. "He's a genius and we're lucky to learn from him."
"I still get him," Trent said. And he sounded smug, which, as his godbrother, Harry wouldn't stand for. So Harry sent a small bit of magic at him which caused Trent to yelp then scowl.
"You're the worst," Trent said. "Go back to having a tantrum, will you?"
"Why were you having a tantrum?" Susan asked. "Were you—"
Susan was cut off by the compartment door opening, and since Harry knew all of his friends were already inside, he went ahead and pointed his knife in the intruders face.
Theo, Luna, Draco, and Susan all also had their wands out, much to Trent's bemusement.
"I..." There was a kid standing in the doorway, with thick blonde hair and terrified blue eyes. "I was told to c-come give a message to Harry Potter, Theodore Nott, Susan Bones, Blaise Zabini, and Neville Longbottom?"
"What kind of message, Dennis?" Neville asked kindly.
Harry had no idea how Neville and Susan knew the names of all the students in Hogwarts. He also wasn't sure why they bothered, Harry only remembered the names of people he liked or people he hated, the rest he was indifferent to.
Dennis was still warily eyeing Harry's knife, but his shoulders relaxed as the others lowered their wands. "From Professor Slughorn, he wants to know if you guys want to have tea in his compartment with him."
"No. Goodbye," Harry said coolly.
Dennis' eyes widened more in face of Harry's refusal, but he glanced at Neville and stuttered out a compartment number before turning around and running off quickly.
"Why does he want to have tea with us?" Neville asked incredulously.
"Auntie said Slughorn has a club of his favorite students," Susan said with a faux-haughty tone. "Anyone who's anyone gets invited."
Harry, who was debating on just going back to sleep, perked up. "What?"
"I'm definitely going then," Blaise said as he stretched his legs out with a lazy grin. "Can't afford to miss out on meeting important classmates, can I?"
"How rude," Draco sneered. "Luna and I are important as well."
"We don't have famous names though," Luna said consolingly with a gently pat of Draco's leg.
"I don't either?" Theo said with a confused scrunch of his nose.
"You moved in with Harry Potter, you— oh for God's sake, are you really going?"
"Yep." Harry smiled at Hermione and got to his feet to smooth down his clothes. "Anyone who's anyone, Mione, why wouldn't I?"
"You're an insufferable ponce," Susan said with a toss of her hair. "Let's go."
After a few minutes of arguing, Harry convinced Theo and Neville to go with them. Theo didn't want to leave Hermione, and Neville just seemed uneasy about why he was being included.
Draco, of course, pouted the whole time. But, as Harry reminded him, it wasn't his fault that Harry's parents were dead war heroes and Draco's dad was in prison.
Well.
It mostly wasn't his fault that his dad was in prison.
Either way, Harry led the others to Slughorn's compartment and promised to tell the others how it went when they got back. As they approached the compartment, Harry stuck his left hand in his pocket in a casual pose to keep a grip on his red penknife and let Susan knock on the door since his other arm was entwined with hers.
"Come in!" a jolly and deep voice called.
Susan and Harry exchanged one more look that shared more than any words could, before Susan slid the door open and their group stepped inside.
What the fuck?
Harry blinked around for a moment, caught by surprise by the rich furnishings and plush purple carpet of this compartment before he adopted his charming smile for the man seated at the head of a decent sized round table that was undoubtedly Professor Horace Slughorn.
"Hello, sir," Harry said brightly.
Slughorn jumped to his feet, which seemed like quite a task. He was a bigger man, thick around the waist and cheek jowls that drooped down to his neck. He was dressed in a posh yellow suit with green robes, which should have looked ridiculous, but actually went together nicely. Slughorn smiled at Harry's group and stuck his hand out to Harry at once. Harry glanced down at it and felt a bit of relief when Susan reached across him and took it in his place.
Slughorn didn't look put out by it at all, he had the look of a man who was suspiciously optimistic.
Harry could never trust people so constantly cheerful or optimistic.
Either they were constantly manic, or they never struggled with anything in their lives. Both of which would be horribly unfair and pissed Harry off to think about.
"Professor Horace Slughorn," Slughorn said cheerfully as he took turns accepting handshakes from Harry's other friends. "And let me guess, green eyes like that, must be Harry, Lily's boy!"
Harry had to work very hard to make sure his surprise didn't cause his expression to slip. Aside from Snape, nobody ever really considered his mum when they met him. He heard a lot of comparisons to his dad, but not much to his mum.
Probably the contacts.
Harry loved them.
"Yes sir," Harry said with a more genuine smile. He relaxed his fingers, one by one, until his grip on his knife was loosened. "This is—,"
"Oh don't tell me!" Slughorn cried with a smile. "This beauty has to be Amelia's niece, Susan?"
"Yes, sir, that's me," Susan said with her own polite and charming smile.
"And this must be Frank's son, Augusta's grandson, Neville?"
Neville's voice was soft, hesitant, when he responded. "Yes sir."
"Hmm..." Slughorn tapped his chin for a moment as he considered Blaise, but Harry thought it was probably just for show. "Mister Zabini, I'd say. You look quite a bit like your mother as well!"
"Thank you sir," Blaise said with a perfect smile. "I'll tell mother you've said so."
Blaise didn't look like the Contessa much at all, in Harry's opinion. His skin was much darker, his hair courser, but he supposed they both had the same sharp cheekbones and golden colored eyes.
Harry privately thought that the Contessa was probably the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, and also the most terrifying.
Which only made her more beautiful.
Harry's classmates must think Blaise is plenty good-looking though, as infrequently as he sleeps in his own bed.
"And Theo of course!" Slughorn winked at Theo. "You scoundrel, tried telling me you weren't friends with Harry here when I know for a fact that the two of you might as well be brothers!"
Theo grimaced a bit, but inclined his head in silent acknowledgment.
And Harry realized that they all got invites because Slughorn either knew or liked their relatives, dead or not apparently.
Susan's aunt, head of the DMLE. Neville's parents, both famous aurors before they were cursed, and his grandmother was a constant voice in Wizengamot meetings. Blaise's mother was a famous witch who carried a lot of foreign power and was the majority holder of shares in most major wixen media's. Theo apparently got an invite because he was Harry's brother. And Harry wasn't sure, not yet, but it seemed like Slughorn must have liked his mum quite a bit.
"Have a seat!" Slughorn said, waving his hand around the half-filled table as he sank back in to his chair. "I'm sure you all know each other, hmm?"
Harry actually didn't recognize any of the other four at the table, except for Ginny Weasley who he gave a less charming and more sharp smile to.
There was also a seventh year Gryffindor at the table, maybe someone Harry played in quidditch before? He looked vaguely familiar. And a boy with a Ravenclaw tie on that Harry definitely didn't know.
Since none of Harry's friends said anything as they took their seats, Slughorn waved his wand and began floating plates around to them all.
"I'll just do introductions, shall I?" he said with a deep chuckle. He turned to the Ravenclaw boy, who was at his right hand side, and gave him a smile. "This is Marcus Belby, his uncle is Damocoles Belby, he invented the wolfsbane potion you know."
Belby opened his mouth, but Harry's light scoff cut him off.
"Snape revolutionized it though, didn't he?" Harry asked Belby with a mocking grin.
Slughorn laughed and pointed at Harry with a thick finger with a gold ring on it. "You're right Harry! You're right! Severus did revolutionize the potion! You'll have to remind Damocoles of that next time you see him, hmm Marcus?"
"Oh." Belby's cheeks pinked as Slughorn turned expectantly to him. "I don't see much of him, actually. My father doesn't get along with him, I haven't seen him since I was a baby."
"Is that so?" Slughorn asked. And Harry could see as he mentally wrote off Belby. He turned to the Gryffindor boy and winked at him. "Now, I happen to know that you see quite a bit of your uncle Tiberius, don't you Cormac?"
Aah.
Cormac McLaggen. Gryffindor keeper.
Nearly as good at keeping as Harry is.
"Yes sir," McLaggen said in a posh tone that made Harry immediately decide to dislike him. "My parents and I had dinner with him and Rufus Scrimgeour over the summer."
"You know Rufus too?" Slughorn cried, clearly delighted. "You know, I never saw him as Head Auror, but I've heard he's doing a fine job at it."
Harry held back another scoff. According to Johnny and Tonks, at their last meeting, Scrimgeour was 'ruthless', which is probably all the qualifications he needed to be head auror.
Slughorn turned to Ginny next and winked at her. "And this young lady, is Miss Ginny Weasley, I daresay you know Harry and his friends, don't you?"
"Unfortunately," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes and a flick of her hair.
"Ginny's my future sister-in-law, right Gin?" Harry smirked as he carefully laid his left hand on the table top next to the plate of pastries he was ignoring.
"Oh!" Slughorn spotted Harry's ring and his whole face lit up. "My goodness! Miss Weasley! You didn't tell me that!"
"I try not to think about it," Ginny said through clenched teeth.
Slughorn ignored her as he turned to Harry and his friends though. "I'm surprised I didn't read about that in the prophet!" he said. "As much as you all are in it, you'd think they'd include an article on Harry Potter's engagement! Now, let me think... if Miss Weasley here isn't your mystery beau, which Weasley girl is it? I didn't know Molly had more than the one daughter."
"She doesn't," Harry said with a shrug. "It's Fred Weasley. Ginny's older brother."
Slughorn blinked for a moment, clearly taken aback, and Harry took note of the twitch of disapproval on McLaggen's face—
a twitch he would absolutely be looking in to at a later date.
—then Slughorn broke out in to a wide smile and raised his goblet towards Harry. "Wonderful!" he said, sounding as if he actually meant it. "Now, I've always said that a wizards sexuality said a lot about them. Dumbledore himself was partial to men, you know."
Harry caught Blaise's eyes and raised a subtle brow. He did not know that.
But he would write to Rita tonight and let her know, it might help her current mission Harry was paying her for:
'Operation: Fucking Ruin Dumbledore'.
He had high hopes for it, especially since Rita had been so excited for an excuse to go out and dig up as much dirt on the man as she could.
"I read that Fred Weasley was with you back in May, and then of course the piece on his new business," Slughorn said, missing Harry and his friends small smirks. "I can't believe I didn't know that was your Weasley."
"I asked Rita not to publish about us," Harry said casually. "No need to put a bigger target on Fred's back because of me, is there?"
"Just like your mother!" Slughorn chuckled. "She was very protective of her friends as well! I dare say you already know that though, since her and Severus were so close. Hardly saw one without the other in their first few years of school."
Harry smiled politely as Slughorn prattled on about his mum for a few minutes before he switched to Snape. He was relieved when Slughorn finally turned to Susan and Neville and began grilling them on the battle in May. Neville didn't share many details, but Susan was all too happy to show off her new arm and discuss her duel with Bellatrix.
"I never liked that girl," Slughorn said with a flash of his eyes when Susan was done talking. "She was always a cruel girl. I admit I was relieved to read about her death. The papers said it was bullet holes in her, can you believe that?"
Susan, Neville, Theo, and Blaise all shared a look before carefully not looking at Harry. It was a look that Slughorn actually did notice, and he turned to look at Harry curiously.
"I think it's ironic," Harry shrugged carelessly. "Imagine thinking your so much better than others because of blood-status and it's a muggle weapon that ends you life."
Ginny coughed something that sounded like 'murderer', and Susan glared at her.
"You're awfully brave, aren't you Ginevra?" Susan said in a tone that sounded like a compliment, but definitely wasn't.
"Bite me," Ginny said just as sweetly.
"We'll leave that to Finnigan," Harry laughed with a wink to Slughorn when Ginny's ears turned just as red as her hair.
Slughorn stared at Harry for a long moment before he laughed as well.
"You and I are going to get along just fine, aren't we Harry?"
Harry kind of doubted it, but he smiled and played along anyway.
By the time they left Slughorn's compartment to go get changed for their arrival at Hogwarts, Harry was actually positive that he and Slughorn wouldn't be getting along.
"Thank God I dropped potions," Harry sighed as he grabbed his robes out of his bag and slid them on top of his other clothes. "Imagine dealing with him all year."
Slughorn obviously fawned on Harry, but it was hard to keep up his charming and polite persona for so long.
"Some of us aren't so lucky," Theo grumbled. "Hermione, Draco, and I are all stuck with him."
"I wish I was taking potions," Ron said morosely, which caught Harry entirely by surprise.
"Why?? You hate potions?"
Ron's cheeks flared up a bright red and he began sputtering about 'changing his mind', which was an obvious lie, but since the train was pulling in the station and the others were rushing out, Harry didn't have a chance to grill him on it.
Hermione, Theo, and Susan went scrambling out of the compartment to round up the first-years and direct them to their boats, so Harry and the others split up and claimed a couple carriages to get up to the castle.
"Harry... Luna... what are you doing?" Trent asked incredulously while Harry and Luna paused to pet the thestral in front of their carriage.
"Are you taking Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry asked him.
"Yeaaaah."
"Guess you'll find out then," Harry smirked. He gave the thestral a last pat before holding the carriage door open for Trent, Luna, and Draco. Ron, Blaise, and Neville took the one behind them with Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis.
Trent chatted about his electives coming up, he was taking Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes, apparently Sirius' suggestion, with Luna and Draco while Harry watched the scenery flash by as they traveled up to the castle.
"Does this year feel different to you guys?" Harry blurted out when they were nearly to the castle.
Draco and Trent looked confused, but Luna hummed thoughtfully.
"It does," she said softly. "We aren't the same people who left last June, are we?"
Harry jerked his chin in a sort of nod of agreement, but he wasn't sure that was the reason. When they unloaded from the carriage, Harry pulled his camera from his bag and took a photo of the castle.
He couldn't explain why, when Draco asked him, but he just knew he wanted the photo. It was almost like... like this was his seventh year, instead of his sixth. Which was mad, because he'd get to see Hogwarts again next year.
... unless he didn't.
Then he shook off his mad thoughts, probably a side-effect of all that happened in May and Fred being gone, and threw himself in to the conversation with his friends after they got seated at the Slytherin table. He nodded at the head table to Sirius and Snape and very pointedly ignored Dumbledore.
He hated that they reinstated him.
He hated that Timmy wasn't scared enough of Harry for Harry's presence in the castle to be a reassurance for the board.
He was pleased that neither Snape nor Sirius seemed to talk to Dumbledore at all though. McGonagall did, but she hadn't been present when Dumbledore tried to actually kill Harry, so he could overlook that slight.
"I can't believe they let him come back," Neville muttered darkly as Dumbledore got to his feet after the sorting finished. "Bloody madman he is."
"Cheers Nev," Harry murmured.
"Welcome back!" Dumbledore cried through the hall with a smile and a look of happiness that pissed Harry off. "I cannot describe my joy at seeing so many of you here, safe and sound, and ready to begin a new year at Hogwarts!"
"Not everyone though," Hermione said softly as she looked around the hall. Harry looked around too, but since he didn't notice any missing faces he quirked a brow at Hermione.
"Eight students didn't come back," Hermione breathed as Dumbledore talked about banned items and the forbidden forest. "I heard a lot more parents were really hesitant to let their kids to come back as well, with all the death eater attacks over the summer and talk about Timmy."
"That's mad," Ron whispered. "Hogwarts has got to be safer than their homes. Right?"
Harry and Susan both snorted simultaneously and caught a few looks from other Slytherin's at their blatant dismissal of Dumbledore's speech.
Harry figured if Dumbledore tried to kill him a few months ago, that some public disrespect was the least of the revenge Harry had planned.
He did listen, without appearing to listen as he levitated his fork and got in a mock duel with Blaise's spoon, as Dumbledore began talking about staff changes.
"Due to the strenuous task expected of our potions Professor, we are trying something new this year," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I am pleased to inform you that Professor Snape will still be teaching first through third year potions, along with retaining his head of house duties, while Professor Horace Slughorn will be returning to Hogwarts to teach our fourth through seventh years."
Harry didn't want to clap, because it would indicate that he was listening to Dumbledore, but he compromised by smiling up at Slughorn and Snape and looking only at them as he clapped along with the others.
"Why couldn't Snape take our year?" Theo scowled.
Apparently he wasn't a fan of being in Slughorn's club due to Harry's fame.
"He said he's got a lot going on and the older students need more time because of our tests," Harry said with his own small frown. Harry would have liked to have had Snape as a teacher again this year, but it wasn't like he had to deal with Slughorn anyway. And he could still go burst in Snape's office and his quarters whenever he wanted, so it wasn't too big of a deal.
"What does he have going on?" Blaise asked curiously.
Harry rolled his eyes as he remembered what Snape finally told him a few days ago. "He took over Barty's job," he said in a soft whisper that his friends had to lean forward to hear. "He's going to figure out how to kill Timmy."
"Oh." Hermione sat back up and nodded. "Well that's definitely important. And..." she glanced up at the head table where Slughorn was now talking animatedly with Sprout. "He seems like he could be a good teacher."
"I doubt it," Draco said haughtily. "He seems like an idiot to me."
Harry laughed and relaxed back in his seat as the dishes began popping up from the kitchens. "You're just jealous Dray," he grinned. "Want me to tell Slughorn you wanna be in his posh little club?"
"No I do not," Draco said with his nose in the air.
"I do," Trent piped up from his seat between Ron and Blaise. "I think it sounds fun."
Harry blinked at Trent and shook his head.
"It's not," he said flatly.
"Is too."
"Is not."
"Is too."
"It isn't fun Trent."
"Is too."
Harry slammed his hand on the table and glared at Trent. "I hope someone challenges you to a duel tonight and..." Harry tried to remember Snape's exact phrase he once used. "And they cut your impertinent tongue from your mouth."
Trent stuck his tongue out at Harry. "No you don't."
"Do too."
No. He didn't.
Which is why it was a nasty fuckin surprise when the Slytherin's were all gathered in their common room after Snape gave his usual spiel, followed by the rules for duels by the seventh year prefect, and Trent was immediately challenged.
"We challenge Trent Bailey."
Harry's eyes snapped through the crowd of Slytherin's straight to where Crabbe and Goyle stood side-by-side.
Harry knew they were stupid, uninteresting, and about as bright as a cupboard, but he had no idea they were fucking suicidal as well.
"Absolutely fuckin not," Harry snarled at them, the eyes of the other Slytherin's on him now. "What possible reason would you have to challenge Trent?"
"We don't have to explain to you," Crabbe (was it Crabbe? Harry had never really bothered to get to know them that well.) grunted. "He's a mudblood and we're challenging him."
Many of the students standing around sucked in shocked hisses at the word 'mudblood', they hadn't spent the last five years living with Harry Potter and not discovered how he reacted to it.
Harry saw Trent stepping up beside him and pushed him back a bit more harshly than he meant. "He turns it down," Harry said firmly. "Fuck off or duel me instead."
"We was told—"
Goyle was cut off by by Crabbe's foot stomping on his harshly.
"We want the mudblood," Crabbe said with an inscrutable look at Goyle. "Does he accept or not?"
"I do," Trent said. He stepped back up next to Harry and stuck his chin out stubbornly.
Harry put his arm in front of Trent's chest, stopping him from going any further while he studied Crabbe and Goyle.
Why were they doing this?
What did they stand to gain by attacking Trent?
Everyone knew that he was one of Harry's, even if he wasn't officially in the gang.
Surely they hadn't missed the fact that Harry had actually killed the last person who hurt his godbrother.
It was an open secret in Slytherin that Harry Potter killed Dolores Umbridge. Most of the students heard Harry threatening to do so the night before she died of heart failure. Nobody said it out loud, but they all knew it wasn't a coincidence. Hell, a few of the students sent Harry actual thank you cards for it.
One girl sent him a box of chocolates.
Harry grit his teeth in the tense silence of the common room, studying the two standing across from him.
What was he missing?
It wasn't until Harry's unblinking gaze caused Goyle to twitch his right hand towards his left arm that the pieces clicked together in his head.
"Oh you're fucking kidding me," he breathed. Harry looked over his shoulder quickly, seeking out Theo to see if his keen eyes spotted what he did.
Theo caught his gaze and nodded curtly.
"Got a new tattoo there?" Harry sneered mockingly to Goyle. "C'mon then, let's see it."
"I'm not showing you nothin," Goyle said with his own sneer, a look that just made him look constipated.
"Why not? Huh?" Harry took a step closer to the two of them and smiled in the face of their obvious unease. "Let's see your left arm. Show the class what you did this summer, yeah?"
"Bloody hell," Ron said with a shocked gasp. "You took the mark?"
"They took the mark while sharing a dorm with Harry?" Blaise muttered. "No sense of self-preservation there, hm?"
"They aren't sharing our dorm anymore," Draco sneered with true anger in his voice. "They can sleep in the bloody loo."
"Are we dueling or not?" Crabbe asked, his jaw clenched and his face red as the other sixth year boys jeered at him.
"We are," Trent said, refocusing Harry's attention on his scrawny little stubborn prat of a godbrother.
"Trent, turn it down," Harry said quietly. He turned slightly so Crabbe and Goyle couldn't see his mouth, but so he could still see them out of the corner of his eye. "They're working for Timmy- Voldemort," he said when Trent looked unsure who Timmy was. "They were probably ordered to duel you, which means they could be aiming to kill."
"So?" Trent asked. "I'll aim to kill too."
Harry looked Trent over from head to toe and had to bite his tongue to keep from insulting him.
Despite all the hours Harry put in to training him over the summer, he didn't actually think Trent could kill a puppy, let alone incapacitate two nearly grown wizards looking to hurt him on Timmy's behalf.
"I'll buy you your own Firebolt to use in the summers if you turn it down," Harry whispered. "C'mon Trent, don't be stupid."
"You're not my boss, Harry," Trent said with a grin. "I want to duel. But-" he looked up at Harry through his thick black lashes, "will you be my second?"
"Obviously," Harry grit out. As if he was going to let anyone else do it. "A new Firebolt and an owl?"
"Nope." Trent sidestepped Harry and narrowed his green eyes at Crabbe and Goyle. "I'm ready."
"I'm his second and I'm going to kill you when he's done," Harry turned and told the duo with forced calm in his tone. "Every spell you cast on him- I'm going to take it out of your fucking blood. When this duel is over, I'm next."
Harry didn't think he was imagining the way that Goyle's face paled in the candlelit room.
As it should.
Because Harry kind of doubted that two death eaters were going to lose a duel to Trent, but they sure as hell would to him.
Harry stepped back a bit and grabbed Trent's elbow right before he stepped up to the empty circle the other students formed in the center of the room.
"Got your knife?" he murmured.
Trent's hand patted his trouser pocket quickly before he nodded.
"Good." Harry gave the other boys a cold look. "Stab them right in the fucking throat, got it?"
"Got it."
Trent stepped in to the circle and squared his thin shoulders and Jesus Christ, he looked like a first-year compared to Crabbe and Goyle's broad shoulders and thick necks.
Harry had a terribly unhelpful realization that he was pretty sure Goyle's biceps were as thick as one of Trent's legs.
The usual bets were silent. Not a soul even dared whisper as they watched with narrowed and disapproving eyes. This wasn't a duel to showcase power, this was a direct attack against Potter through a child under his protection. None of the other students with dark affiliated families had even asked to join the Dark Lord, how could they? They had all seen for years that Potter had power they could only dream of wielding and showed no mercy to his enemies.
Even if they couldn't formally ally themselves to Potter, taking the dark mark was a death sentence.
And attacking Potter Junior in front of Potter himself was a suicide mission, and they all knew it.
The air was heavy as the prefect erected the standard wards around the three duelers.
"Begin," the seventh year prefect said flatly, as unimpressed as the others.
Harry watched through red-tinted eyes as Trent tried to strike first. He tried to disarm Crabbe and missed.
Because Trent was a shit dueler.
Harry jammed his hands in his pockets as he forced himself to watch as Crabbe and Goyle took turns in aiming hexes and curses at Trent.
He would rather close his eyes until it was over, but he needed to know what he owed them when it was his turn.
He meant what he said, they'd insulted Trent, called him dirty, and they targeted a kid for a fight their Master's fight with Harry.
And he wasn't going to just let that slide.
Harry's shoulders tightened and he had to actually bite on his tongue as Trent yelled from a well-placed bone blasting hex.
Trent sent another spell at Goyle, a stunner this time, then jumped forward and stabbed Crabbe right in his left leg.
"Keep going," Harry murmured as Crabbe staggered. But Trent just pulled his knife back out and jumped backwards, resuming his exhausting dance as he tried to dodge the incoming curses.
Harry was going to spend every weekend training Trent until that kid could kill an attacker with his eyes closed.
Trent would be decent in a knife fight against one person his own size, but when he lunged forward again and swiped his blade across Goyle's neck, leaving a shallow cut, Goyle caught him with his heavy arm and knocked Trent flat on his back.
"Oh Harry's going to kill them," someone murmured in the absolute deathly silence of the common room when Goyle pointed his wand at Trent and yelled, "Crucio!"
Harry nearly couldn't bear to hear Trent's screams. They were like knives directly in his eardrums.
Sharp.
Painful.
And they made Harry want to scream.
He didn't. He watched with a mask of impassivity as Trent screamed for exactly eighty-one seconds.
And then he smiled as Goyle summoned Trent's wand and the prefect quickly announced that the duel was over.
"Winners, Crabbe and Goyle," he said.
Nobody was that stupid; Crabbe and Goyle might have shown that they could torture and disarm a thirteen year old boy, but they certainly didn't 'win'.
Because now it was Harry's turn and he was going to make them regret every decision they've ever made.
Theo and Ron jumped forward immediately and picked Trent up from the ground. Harry looked him over as they pulled him to the exit, probably skipping the in-house healers and headed straight to Snape.
Which was smart.
Harry didn't trust the seventh year students to heal his godbrother, but he did Snape.
Trent wasn't bleeding anywhere, but his torso was bent awkwardly from where they had busted a rib with their hex and his eyes were bloodshot and his eyelashes were wet.
"Here," Trent struggled in Theo's grip and reached his hand out to Harry. Harry glanced down and saw Trent's hand was covered Crabbe's blood and his knife was still in his hand. "Kill them," Trent said as Harry accepted the knife.
"I plan on it," Harry said confidently.
Harry waited until Theo and Ron had Trent out of the common room before he turned his sharp smile on Crabbe and Goyle.
"Now I challenge you," he said softly. "You never should have fucked with Trent."
"And I'm his second," Blaise drawled from behind Harry. "You boys might want to find one as well, someone for Harry to torture after he kills you."
Harry wouldn't have begrudged Crabbe and Goyle for getting a second, even in pairs it was pretty standard. But he forgot, it was volunteer only.
And not a soul volunteered.
"Pity," Draco sneered as the silence stretched on. "Something for you to report to your Master anyway."
"Yeah?" Goyle asked Draco hotly. "What about you, scum? You're nothing but a dirty blood-traitor. Hanging out with mudbloods, no wonder your father disowned you."
Harry curled his lip up, but Draco was sniping back before he could jump in.
"Oh yes, whatever shall I do without some disgusting tattoo marring my perfect blood-traitor skin?" Draco sighed dramatically. "I suppose I'll have to be content with an inheritance from my mother's family, my friendship with Harry Potter, and the knowledge that I'm not about to be murdered. Life is terribly hard as a 'blood-traitor'."
"Not as hard as their life is about to be," Blaise laughed. "Come on boys, step up and duel Harry now. You knew it was coming, didn't you? Call him a mudblood and a blood-traitor, I'm sure it will go swimmingly for you."
A few of the Slytherin girls laughed at that, though they sounded nervous too.
"I'm done arguing," Harry said. He twirled Trent's knife between his fingers, sending droplets of blood to the marble floor. "Put up a dome and say begin," he told the prefect.
"We don't accept," Crabbe blurted out before the prefect could raise his wand. Crabbe's beady eyes were nervous now as he kept glancing at Goyle.
"You don't accept?" Harry asked. He laughed, a cold mirthless laugh. "Too fucking bad," he sneered. "You can accept the duel or you can fight me anyway, you fucking cowards."
"No," Goyle said. He stumbled backwards from Harry's slow approach, a frantic movement that drew a laugh from the other students. "We can't."
"Oh but you can," Harry smiled winningly. "I want you to, I'm sure the half-blood maniac you follow wants you to. Fight me."
"We have- we have orders," Crabbe said. He stretched his neck backwards away from Harry who was now nearly flush against him. "Not you."
"Too bad."
Harry flipped Trent's knife in his hand and drove it right in to Crabbe's groin, only inches away from ending the Crabbe line altogether.
"Fight me," he hissed in Crabbe's ear as he held him up from collapsing on the ground by the front of his robe. "Don't you want to?"
"Leave him alone," Goyle grunted. He stuck his arm out, as if to grab at Harry, before pulling it back and deepening his scowl. "We don't wanna duel you."
"Why not?" Blaise demanded from the crowd of onlookers. "You were perfectly content to attack a third year just a little bit ago."
Harry dropped Crabbe to the ground and turned to Goyle. "You broke his rib, right?" Harry twitched his pinky at his side, break his bones.
Goyle bent over with a deep grunt of pain as Harry's spell hit its mark and broke multiple ribs.
"D'you wanna fight me now?" he sneered in Goyle's face, indifferent to the tears of pain welling in his eyes.
"No," Goyle gasped. "Can't."
"FIGHT BACK YOU FUCKING COWARDS!" Harry screamed. He kicked Crabbe in his absolute rage and felt a swell of anger hit him so he kicked Crabbe over and over, "FUCKING- FIGHT- ME!"
'Can't' was all that Crabbe would say.
And Harry had never been so furious and angry in his life.
Why would they attack Trent, but refuse to fight Harry?
Why did Timmy send his followers to torture Luna and tell her to have Harry join him?
"What is his fucking game?" Harry snarled as he kicked Crabbe one last time, causing the bones in his nose to crack and blood to spurt everywhere.
"They aren't fighting back," Blaise murmured from a safe distance behind where Harry had the two boys against the wall.
"Who cares?" Draco sneered. "They took Timmy's mark, they can take Harry's rage."
Harry agreed with Draco.
He didn't care if they weren't fighting back against him or not, they attacked Trent and it was unforgivable.
They had no problem fighting then.
Hurt him, Harry ordered his magic with a careless gesture towards Goyle.
He counted, slowly, in his mind as Goyle's screams bounced off the walls.
One... two... two and a half... three...
It wasn't until Harry hit one hundred exactly that he ended the curse.
His face was cold as he studied Goyle and realized that he must have fallen unconscious at some point.
Not his problem.
He was lucky to be breathing.
"Tell me what he wants," Harry whispered to Crabbe. He knelt down beside him and put his mouth right up to his ear. "Tell me."
"You," Crabbe said in a quiet gasp. "He wants you with him."
Harry reared back in surprise.
That...
That didn't make any sense.
But it was the same thing the death eaters told Luna, wasn't it? Timmy wanted Harry to join him or he'd torture and eventually kill all his friends.
Harry thought that Timmy wanted him to turn himself in, sacrifice his life for his friends. But that didn't sound like what this was. This sounded like...
Like Timmy wanted Harry to join him.
As partners?
Harry gave him his chance at partnership, he gave it to him in his first year when Timmy screamed that he had no equal.
He gave it to him again in his second year, but even teenage Timmy didn't want to be partners.
So why now?
Why would Timmy want Harry to join him, partners or not, when he knew the prophecy said Harry was meant to kill him?
"Well he can't have me, can he?"
He could have.
Harry would have joined him back when he was younger, before Timmy cut Snape open, before he killed Barty, tortured his friends, and possessed Harry to the point where he'd nearly went mad from it.
It was too late for partnership now.
Timmy had to die, and Harry was going to do it.
Simple.
Harry threw open the link between his mind and Timmy's and called out to him.
Riddle me this, Timmy, what happens when a noseless dick sends two incompetent morons to hurt my godbrother?
Harry ripped Crabbe's left shirtsleeve up and held his arm out. There were sounds of shock behind Harry as the dark mark that Harry had merely guessed at was put on full display for the other Slytherins.
"This is going to hurt," Harry said mockingly. Then he drove Trent's knife as far in to the top of the Dark Mark on his forearm as he could and drug it downwards, driving an ear splitting scream from Crabbe and entirely disfiguring his arm.
Keep fucking with my people and see what happens.
As soon as he did the same thing to Goyle, making sure to render the mark completely unrecognizable, Harry stood up and stepped away from them.
Harry curled his nose at the two useless lumps of scum on the floor in front of him. "If I see you even look at Trent again, I'll cut your throat and deliver your body in pieces to Timmy."
He kicked Crabbe one last time, for good measure, before turning to face the others.
"If anyone heals them or lets them sleep in your dorm, we're going to have a problem," Harry said flatly. His eyes searched out each and every student standing there and felt a spark of vindictive pleasure that they all looked like a proper mixture of terrified and awed. He grinned cockily and wiped the bloody knife off carelessly on his trousers before holding it up, "And if anyone else needs a tattoo removed, let me know. Otherwise, goodnight."
The students silently shifted out of Harry's way as he strode towards the exit, his chin held high and Crabbe and Goyle's blood soaking his clothes.
He needed to go check on Trent.
He needed to let Snape know that there were actual death eaters in the castle.
He needed to move Crabbe and Goyle's trunks to the common room and move Trent's up to his dorm.
Then he needed to call Fred on his dad and Sirius' old two-way mirrors and tell him about the duels, just he promised to do.
Sixth year was already exhausting.