章 18: Chapter 18: Isn't This a Little Akward?
Despite his nature, Harry was never really seduced and tempted by his power. He always had a professional mindset regarding their use: 'it was just business' and 'the end justifies the means.' A little dark and against human nature, but he stopped being human a while ago. Some might see that kind of outlook as a bit callous and sociopathic, but to him, it was just good judgment.
Except when a situation or circumstances prevented him from being fair or when he chooses to indulge his trickster side.
The two weren't always mutually exclusive.
Despite his short time on Earth, Harry has never believed that he would meet someone he despised as much as Draco Malfoy. The kid did everything in his power to get a response out of Harry. If it weren't trying to break into his trunk or go after his cat – who fought back and won – then Draco would be picking on someone else to vent his frustrations.
His usual targets were either 1st years or someone from Gryffindor.
Or rather, they used to be from Gryffindor.
See, Draco made the unfortunate mistake of picking on Neville at one point. While Longbottom did happen to grow a backbone by the second week of school, he still got a punch or two in the gut which 'no one saw.' Harry heard that Malfoy was picking on every 1st year from all the Houses beforehand, but now he favored Neville due to his association with Harry.
Big mistake.
By this point, word has gotten around about Harry's 'promise' to Malfoy, so the teachers paid attention when both were in the same room together. However, that didn't deter the teachers from questioning Harry when Draco was mysteriously struck by 12-hours of bad luck.
Long story short, by the end of the day, Draco had a bed that was on fire, destroyed robes, a cracked wand, both Crabbe and Goyle glued to each other through a Potion accident, and Draco in the Hospital Wing with multiple abrasions, cuts, and a broken arm.
Needless to say, that' s a story for another day, one that includes the explaining the usage behind Nordic runes, Harry's attempt at creating his own brand of magic, and as best as he could gather, assistance from some 3rd party in his torment of Draco.
He definitely wasn't the one behind whatever made Draco's tongue grow so big.
Anyway…
What made Harry hate Draco so much – besides the fact that most of the other Slytherin were his 'posy' – was how much he bragged about himself.
Take flying for instance. Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about 1st years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.
Sure, like Draco actually knows what helicopters are. With how much families like his disdain Muggles and their technology, he probably read the word somewhere and is using it to fit the context of the story. (1)
Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had a good reason, because despite all the good things about him, Neville still managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.
From what he could get out of Hermione, she was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book — not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday, Harry saw her reading a book called Quidditch Through the Ages. However, despite that, from what Harry heard, when 1st year Ravenclaws were called in for practice, she could barely get the broom to respond to her. Better yet, she could barely get it to fly.
Hagrid hasn't invited Harry back for tea again. Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.
He stopped gloating after Harry managed to poison one of his sweets when he wasn't looking. No one could tie it back to him, and Draco started to fear his packages from then on.
In any case, today was the day for Slytherin and Gryffindor to take flying lessons. Harry was currently using the services of a rented owl to deliver his weekly correspondence to Dean, who, as Harry found out in shock, found his brother alive and free from Hell. He was also writing Bobby Singer about how to get out of his deal with Crowley for his soul. He didn't tell him everything, but he gave him enough to work with; by his estimates, the boys would arrive in Scotland in a week or so to desecrate his father's grave for his bones (2). Hopefully, they would be close enough for Harry to teleport to them without issue to take them back home – Dean did hate flying. As he was finishing up, he saw a barn owl fly to Neville with a small package from his grandma.
Harry got up from his table to approach Neville at Gryffindor. By this point in time, most of Gryffindor has gotten used to the fact that Harry and Neville were friends.
Except for Ron Weasley - the boy still held a grudge against Harry for some reason.
Harry watched as Neville opened it excitedly and showed a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
"It's a Remembrall! Gran knows I forget things, so this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red, it means you've forgotten something."
Harry watched in amusement as the ball remained white. "You sure it's not broken, Neville?" (3)
Neville shook the ball to make sure, "Huh. Guess I haven't forgotten anything."
As Neville kept toying with the ball, Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. Harry and Neville to their feet, half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.
"What's going on?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."
Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
At three-thirty that afternoon, the gaggle of 1st year Gryffindor and Slytherin hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
Harry and the Slytherins were already there waiting for Gryffindor, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. During Harry excursion to place his wards in the school, he had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk (4). Harry got curious and took a closer gander at her.
Huh, pure human. Did she use some spell do make her eyes like that, or is it some spillover from being an Animagius?
Harry did, in fact, know what an Animagius was due to his readings. Unfortunately, despite his relentless efforts, he has yet to find the process to become one anywhere publicly available. He heard about the Restricted Section in the library, but he felt that it wasn't time to go there yet – not until he was certain he could get in without any issues or anyone finding out.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old, and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
Should a school like this have a budget for sports equipment?
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Neville's had risen to his hand at a leisurely pace.
Maybe brooms are like horses; they can tell when you were afraid.
If Harry's observation of Neville was any indication, there was a quiver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Neville were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips, flying twenty feet straight into the air.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted.
Took Neville a while to get back down, but it was evident on his pale white face that he was still terrified to get back on the broom. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he fell on the grass vomiting.
Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Bad case of vertigo," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class., "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about… up a tree?"
And that's when Harry's anger got the best of him.
"Put that down now, or the next thing in the tree is going to be your head, with your body somewhere nearby."
Harry noted the micro expression of panic that appeared on Draco's face. Unfortunately, the mind only has two responses for panic: fight or flight.
Malfoy had leaped onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, MacLeod!"
Well, since you asked so nicely.
Didn't take much effort on his part. All Harry needed to do was raise his hand, summon some power, and pull Malfoy down with telekinesis.
Straight toward the ground.
At full speed.
Crabbe and Goyle dived right underneath Draco just as he was about to land face first into hard rock. That still didn't save the three of them from feeling the full impact of the force of the broom.
Force equals mass times acceleration, bitches.
Harry calmly approached the mass quivering on the ground in pain, as every other 1st year tried to get as far from Harry as possible but still see what he was going to do. He stretched out his hand and took the ball straight out of Draco's till clutching grasp.
"Thank you for holding it for me Draco."
"WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED?"
Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall was running toward them.
Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "What happened here?"
Harry, stone-faced, told it as it was. "Draco got on his broom despite clear instructions from Madam Hooch as she took Neville to the Hospital Wing. Unfortunately, he lost control and landed straight on top of Crabbe and Goyle."
Professor McGonagall looked straight into Harry's eyes, "Is that what happened?"
"It's the truth." Technically.
"Is what Harry said true? Did Draco get on his broom despite explicit instruction from Madam Hooch not to?"
Everyone from Gryffindor started to nod immediately, but no one from Slytherin followed.
Professor McGonagall gave the trio on the ground of pure fury as they began to get up. "I swear, Mr. Malfoy, you and your friends, have been nothing but trouble from the first day! Detention with me – not Professor Snape – for a week and ten points from Slytherin."
Harry winced. That's going to come back and bite me in the ass.
Draco tried to defend himself, but as far as everyone as concerned, he did do just as Harry said. Besides, who was going to argue and actually say that a 1st year managed to perform wandless and wordless magic?
"You're joking."
It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Neville what had happened after he'd left the grounds with Madam Hooch. Neville had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it. Despite what happened earlier today, Neville seemed to have no problem with adding more ammunition to the cannon.
"Nope, we had witnesses. Draco fell off his broom, broke his arm again, cracked a few of Crabbe and Goyle's ribs, and lost points. Here's your Remembrall, by the way."
As Neville put the bobble away in his bag, he turned to Harry, "You sure you had nothing to do with his injury?"
Harry gave his friend a wolfish smile, "I didn't even put a hand on him."
The horde of 1st year Gryffindor's sitting around Harry snickered in kind.
It was official from that day – Harry was only a Slytherin in name. After the 1st years saw what he did to Draco, the Slytherin had all but rejected him. The elder students of Gryffindor were still on edge, but the 1st years didn't even blink when they offered Harry a seat at their table when everyone in Slytherin locked him out.
Plus, they kept what actually transpired between themselves.
Harry was enjoying their company, talking about the differences between the House Dorms and Common Rooms, when Malfoy got behind him with Crabbe and Goyle by his sides.
"Look at you, MacLeod. How can you even call yourself a Slytherin, sitting surrounded by these… these… Gryffindors?"
Harry looked up from his meal, "Are you as stupid as you seem, or did you lose a few brain cells when you crashed into the ground?"
Draco started to raise his fist, but as the High Table near them was full of teachers, he couldn't do anything more than crack their knuckles and scowl.
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you, all healed up and ready to go." said Harry coolly
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. Midnight in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
Harry sighed and looked at Draco again, "Can you at least try to make your plans less obvious? What, do you actually think I am going to out at midnight – in apparent violations of rules – and get in trouble when a teacher conveniently arrives because someone told them there was going to be a duel in the trophy room?"
Harry couldn't help but hear a snicker come from Hermione at the Ravenclaw table.
Malfoy started to go red faced in fury as Harry got up and extended himself, showing how much taller and bigger he was then Draco – and his goons. As Draco tried to back up, Harry got him his robe and pulled him forward to whisper in his ear, "You saw what I did to you on the broom - you really think I can't kill you where you stand?"
Everyone observed as Draco froze and became as white as a corpse. "It doesn't take much. Pinching the right nerve, stopping the blood flow to the brain, squeeze your heart – I mean, it's amazing what you can do with a simple spell when you can cast it without anyone noticing and with enough control."
Draco started to shake in fear as Harry continued. That's right – keep thinking that I am doing it with magic.
"Besides Draco, I don't need magic to get rid of you. I've already killed someone with my bare hands – it won't be any different with you."
Draco ran.
He fell to the floor, got up in fear, and ran from the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco before chasing their master.
Harry smiles as he sat back down to finish his meal. If Draco was a dog, he just did the equivalent of running away, pissing on himself with his tail between his legs.
The 1st year Gryffindor cheered as soon as Draco was out of sight.
A few hours later…
"You have to do something, Albus. I doubt that Lucius will stay quiet after this."
Albus watched Snape make his case regarding Lucius and Draco. "Severus, it is still the fourth week of the term. How much trouble could Draco have gotten into ?"
Severus smirked as he started to pace. "Too much. He keeps flaunting his status, he picks fights with everyone, and the less said about his coursework, the better. Let's not even bring up the fact he managed to break his arm – twice – within the same week."
Albus nodded in comprehension, "And has MacLeod been tied back to any of these bouts of misfortune that have been plaguing Draco?"
Severus pinched his brow, "At first I thought he was being clever somehow, having others do his work for him. But Harry is despised by everyone in Slytherin, and he clearly didn't set Malfoy's bed and trunk on fire as he was in an entirely separate part of the castle at the time. I mean, the 1st year Slytherins are making up stories saying that he pulled Draco down from the sky straight into Crabbe and Goyle. Preposterous!"
"The reports said he did the exact same thing on the train when he pushed Crabbe and Goyle straight toward the walls and kept them there."
"But he is a 1st year!" spoke Snape in shock.
"So was Mr. Riddle at one point and he could set things on fire. Let's not forget what he became."
Severus flinched at the mention of Voldemort's original name – a fact not known to many.
Albus pulled on his beard, "Hagrid said that the boy was powerful. But to cast such a spell…"
"Muggle's call such phenomenon 'telekinesis' – the ability to manipulate the environment and things in it with one's mind. Harry did the same feat with a wandless and wordless casting of Leviosa or some variant of the spell."
Albus chuckled, "Odd choice of spell to learn to perform without a wand."
Severus considered it for a moment, "It's a simple charm for sure, but at times, the simplest thing provides the widest range of applications. I can think of a dozen or so uses for the spell if it can be performed as flawlessly as Harry makes it seem."
Albus nodded, "What I wouldn't give to be able to summon a book with a mere thought from a shelf out of my reach."
Severus sighed, "In any case… what are we to do with Harry? If Draco can't stop Harry, then Lucius will force some other Slytherin to do the deed for him. His son is tarnishing the family too much for him to ignore and Draco knows that Harry is somehow involved."
Albus couldn't help but ask, "You being rather protective of the boy, Severus."
Snape flinched at the 'accusation,' but he didn't fluster, "The boy is nothing short of a genius, Albus. If he weren't such a stickler for rules, I would swear he was practicing somewhere in secret. I honestly regret giving him points since his fellow Slytherin always manage to lose them within a moment's notice. I swear, ever since the hat started putting less and less capable students into Slytherin, they have been getting by through Quidditch and the merits of the older capable students. Once the kids who were sorted before the trend started graduate, the students left will resort to cheating and sabotaging the other Houses just so they don't end up in the bottom at the end of the year."
Albus couldn't help himself – he started to laugh.
Snape wasn't smiling.
"Never thought I would see the day were Severus Snape would actually enjoy the presence of a student so much as to defend him from the wrath of his master."
"Lucius is not my master."
"Yes, but you answer to him."
Both men grew silent as Albus adjusted himself. "You do present a valid point, Severus. One way or another, Lucius will somehow get to MacLeod. While I do suspect that Harry is more than capable of defending himself, I doubt he would last long against multiple front attacks."
Severus pondered, "Is there any way to protect MacLeod without showing favoritism that Lucius could exploit?"
Albus shrugged, "Not unless Harry switches Houses to get away from the Slytherin."
Both paused at that, giving the other a judging glance.
"You can't be serious, Albus. The hat put him in Slytherin!"
Albus raised a finger, "Technically, the hat put him in Slytherin because he best represented the traits the House stood for – the fact it is full of Death Eater children with pure-blood ideology was never considered back then. However, there is a way around it that already has precedence…"
"There's precedence for such an event? Since when?"
Albus smiled, "Do you remember Sirius Black?"
The next day…
Harry couldn't help but smile to himself as he walked toward the Dining Room for breakfast.
After spending a few nights sneaking around the castle, he finally finished setting up his surveillance network. Who would have thought a modified combination of the Eye of Ra, a rune for Odin's All-Seeing Eye, as well as a menagerie of Latin and Chinese characters, could create such an effective surveillance system?
I knew that it wasn't a waste of time to create this system during my 'incarceration'! Suck on that, Crowley!
All that was left to do was create some sort of foci or amulet to serve as the central processing hub to link in with the system. Then, Harry would have eyes and ears literally and figuratively everywhere in Hogwarts. Now all he had to do was figure out the interface system, and he was ready to go.
Harry entered the room, expecting to eat at his usual corner spot at the Slytherin table, away from everyone else. He would get his usual breakfast, drink his coffee – half-cream, half-sugar, all black – and enjoy his Saturday by reading.
The moment he saw Dumbledore get up and walk to him made Harry realize that it wasn't going to be a typical day.
Oh crap. What did I do now? Did Draco actually blab to his dad?
Harry quickly checked Draco, who was doing his best impersonation of an excited Chihuahua not trying to hump the table in excitement.
Yep, he told his dad. Guess he can swallow his pride when it benefits him.
Harry sighed and waited for the Headmaster to approach him. As the other students currently eating watched in both horror and curiosity – with a hint of nefarious glee from the Slytherin – at what was about to transpire.
"MacLeod, if I could have a moment of your time?"
Harry calmly stood up and walked toward the Headmaster, "Is there something wrong, Headmaster?"
Don't panic, don't panic…wait, no, that's wrong. Don't kill Draco, don't kill Draco…
"It has come to my attention that you are rather ostracized by your fellow Slytherin, is that not so?"
Harry blinked in confusion, "I guess?" Where is going with this?
Dumbledore nodded, "Normally, I wouldn't offer this option to students since the need never arises, but I believe your circumstances make it a viable option."
Harry kept looking confusion, the hall – and teachers – starring in turn.
"You see, when a student doesn't enjoy the company of his House peers for one reason or another, they can transfer and live in another House while still remaining part of the one they were sorted into."
Harry did his best not to go bug-eyed. You clever bastard!
Harry turned, slowly smiling at Draco, watching, as the blonde's chance to kill him was slipping away.
"While this rule has existed for a long time, it has never been used. It was almost implemented by the Black Family a few years back for their son Sirius to put him in Slytherin, but he declined and stayed in Gryffindor."
Professor McGonagall suddenly gasped, a smile appearing on her face.
Well… isn't that terrifying. Hope she doesn't start laughing or else it's the Apocalypse all over again.
Harry did his best to play innocent and clueless, "What exactly you are suggesting, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore smiled in turn, noting that Harry understood the game being played. "Well, Professor Snape was concerned for your safety, so he requested that you were placed in the Gryffindor House for the rest of your time here at Hogwarts." Dumbledore turned to look at Professor McGonagall, "If of course, the Head of Gryffindor allows it?"
All of Slytherin and Gryffindor stared at the High Table, as Professor McGonagall replied, "Well, if Slytherin doesn't want him, then who am I to deny such a gifted student of being part of my House?"
Damn. Griphook wasn't kidding when he said Dumbledore was a Chessmaster.
Dumbledore turned back to Harry, "So, with your permission, may we start the transfer of your belongings to Gryffindor?"
Harry shrugged nonchalantly, playing his role in the grand machinations of the Headmaster, "When you phrase it like that… who am I do reject such an offer?"
Dumbledore nodded, "But of course. From this day forth, you unofficially part of the Gryffindor House. Officially, however, you will still be listed and graduate from Slytherin. Oh, speaking of which…"
Dumbledore took out his wand – finally letting Harry glimpse the fabled Elder Wand - and performed some sort of spell on the hourglasses that were against the wall. Harry never bothered with them, since they simply showed which house was winning points wise. But even he couldn't help but smile as a big chunk of sand disappeared from the green hourglass as the sand in the red hourglass rose.
It was at this moment that Draco Malfoy realized… that he fucked up.
As he finished with his spell, Dumbledore turned back to Harry, "It's only fair that you leave with the points you earned. But my, you have been one busy little Slytherin, haven't you?"
Harry couldn't help himself, "Well we are supposed to be a rather ambitious bunch, aren't we?"
"Indeed they are, " stated Dumbledore as matter-of-fact as he could while looking upon a mortified and confused Slytherin House, which has just dropped from first place to last place in a span of few moments. "Now, I believe you were planning to eat breakfast with your House? Don't tell me - half-cream, half-sugar, all black, right?"
Harry smile faltered, "How do you know how I take my coffee?"
"It's not often that a house-elf comes to me from the kitchen inquiring as to how to prepare a Muggle beverage."
Harry chuckled before he caught the implication, "Wait… Wizards don't have coffee?"
"It's popular in the New World, but it never caught on with the rest of us. On the other hand, I found someone who sells at a very decent price. Plus, Snape seemed to have gained a fondness for it." Dumbledore leaned forward to whisper, "I believe he has been trying to make a potion facsimile that doesn't have the, shall we say, as frequent bathroom requirement as the original." (5)
"When he manages to work out that miracle, tell me so I can write to the church to apply him for the canonization process."
Dumbledore chuckled at that little factoid, "I will. For now, go eat with your House – I can hear your stomach from here."
Harry turned to an excited Neville sitting with his fellow smiling Gryffindor table, "I guess I shall."
The whole of Gryffindor cheered – except for a select few – as Harry sat down with his now fellow housemates, a splotch of green among the sea of red and gold.
"Well, this makes things easier, Fred."
"Indeed it does, George."
An hour later…
Harry has never been to a concert so he couldn't really say how a mosh pit was supposed to feel like. However, being carried by a cohort of 1st years felt like riding a wave at the concert – if the wave carried him up a dozen flights of stairs cheering for him.
After making their way to the seventh floor of the Gryffindor Tower, Harry finally saw the infamous portrait of the Fat Lady. Someone ran up to the painting and spoke 'pig snout,' causing the picture to crack open.
At least it's better than the Slytherin password.
As Harry was dragged into the common room, he finally got a good look at the Gryffindor House. The common was a circular shape, with windows letting in light from all sides to see the school grounds, like the room was made specifically for relaxing after a long day of studying. It was full of squashy armchairs, tables, and a bulletin board with school notices, ads, lost posters, and other such news. The mantle of the fireplace was adorned with a portrait of a lion, the walls decorated with scarlet tapestries that depicted not only witches and wizards, but also various animals. There were also bookcases located in the room, filled with various books.
As Harry was put down on the floor, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of what appeared to be the Boys Dormitory, "What's all the racket? WHO LET THE SLYTHERIN IN HERE?"
At that little morsel, every Gryffindor who wasn't at breakfast either woke or ran up to see all the commotion.
That's when Fred and George came to Harry's defense.
"Calm down, Wood."
"Calm down? CALM DOWN? You lot let a Slytherin into the Gryffindor Tower! HOW CAN I BE CALM, GEORGE?!"
"OLIVER!" shouted what appeared to be Fred, "think of your happy place. Think of yourself on the Quidditch field winning the cup."
Apparently, that was enough to stabilize the poor man. It was at this point that Percy Weasley – the prefect – got up on the chair to deliver the news. "As of one hour ago, by the degree of Albus Dumbledore and approval of Minerva McGonagall, Harry MacLeod is unofficially part of the Gryffindor House. All points he received as part of Slytherin have been transferred to us, and all future points he earns will go to this house. Officially, he is still part of Slytherin. However, he is to be treated as one of us. Do I make myself clear?"
At this point no one cared – the minute they heard 'points transferred,' even Oliver Wood was existed by the news.
Harry – and by extension Crookshanks – got acquainted with their new surroundings, thanks in part to Neville, who introduced Harry to everyone in the house. Some of the older students still had reservations about Harry, but most of the younger years – except for Ron – approved their new member.
"Hey Neville, what's got Oliver in such a twist?" (6)
"Oh, well… he is the captain of the Quidditch team and all. He has been trying to find a decent Seeker for some time now, but he hasn't been having any luck. I mean, Oliver is a good Keeper and strategist, but the house has been having the worst of luck for the last few years because Slytherin kept winning."
Wait a second… I smell a chance to screw over Draco…
"Hey Neville, are you saying the Gryffindor team could win even without a good Seeker?"
"OF COURSE WE CAN!" interrupted Wood, overhearing the conversation, "It's just those rich, smug bastards always have the newest gear and the best trainers! We could run circles around them if we had the same equipment."
Harry gave Oliver a wolfish smile, "How confident are you regarding that statement?"
Wood gave Harry an inquisitive look, "Pretty confident. Why?"
"Give me an item-by-item list of equipment that each position uses, as well as all the current members playing for each house but Slytherin."
Wood gave Harry a frightened look, "Why?"
"Because I am going to rub salt in the wound so that Slytherin will never forget it."
After Oliver had given Harry the list, Neville got brave enough to ask a question, "Harry, just what exactly are you planning?"
"Well first, I am off to write a letter or two. Then I am going to visit the lake."
Next day, lunch
It was a curious thing to see the Dining Hall have only three tables completely filled out for brunch on a Sunday. All the teachers were there, and so were most of the students.
Only the Slytherin table was empty; students from that house haven't been seen all day.
"What did you do Harry?" panickly asked Hermione as she rushed over to the Gryffindor table.
Harry looked up from his fruit salad (hey, he was a supernatural creature, but he was also health conscious) to smile, "Whatever do you mean?"
"Look around you – no one has seen or heard from Slytherin since last night. Everyone is on edge because it has something to do with you."
Harry laughed as he put down his fork, "Come now, Hermione. Look, Professor Snape is right there, happy as can be. If anything, he probably punished the house for losing all their points."
It was at this point that the doors to the hall opened, and a horde of wet Slytherin entered the room. At the front was Draco, steam almost coming off him in his rage, finger out, pointing at Harry.
"YOU! HOW DID YOU DO IT!?"
Harry turned to face an approaching Draco, arms crossed, all eyes on him. "Whatever do you mean, Malfoy?"
Draco grabbed Harry's collar – as funny as it was in his attempt to lift him – robes smelling of salt water. "How did you get the lake above the Slytherin Dungeon to flood in? We have been locked in there since the middle of night, trying to get rid of it all? WE KNOW YOU DID MACLEOD! ADMIT IT!"
Harry shoved Draco's hands off him as the older Gryffindor's attempted to hold back the rest of the Slytherin. The teachers watched in interest, only Snape getting up and slowly dusting himself off as he slowly walked toward Harry. Dumbledore was still Dumbledore – he was still smiling and eating his lunch in some sort of Zen-like state.
"Draco, Draco, Draco… Are you accusing me, a 1st year, of somehow modifying a centuries-old spell that permeates this castle, just so that it would lock you in the dungeon as it flooded with the lake water? Tisk, tisk, tisk… There's no shame in admitting you screwed up in your plans when I left Slytherin yesterday."
At this, everyone – except for Snape and Dumbledore – froze in shock. "What… what are you talking about, MacLeod?"
"I am sorry, but wasn't one of your new plans this week to lock me in the Boys Dormitory while I was inside the trunk, and then flood the room so I would die from drowning? Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
There was an audible collective gasp from everyone in the room. But Snape was still slowly approaching Harry.
"You can't prove that! No one can possibly do what you are describing!"
"And yet Draco, I… I mean we of Hogwarts… are all looking at a bunch of very wet Slytherin. Tell me, did you pay them to go dip themselves in the lake to play along with your plan, or did leave the spell charging for too long and decided to cover up your mistake by blaming me?"
All eyes were on Draco at this point, the evidence piling up against him. Draco, in panic, looking back to see the Slytherin glaring at him in anger, "I didn't do it! He is lying!"
"And yet, Mr. Malfoy, here we are," spoke Professor Snape in tranquil fury. "This particular piece of information that Harry stumbled on is what finally convinced me to force my hand and request his transfer to Gryffindor. Now you and your fellow classmen stand in front of me, drenched in water from the lake. Tell me Malfoy, what seems more believable: that Harry MacLeod managed to somehow modify a spell that has lasted for centuries in less then a day or that you, as a son of a known powerful governor with many connections and resources, managed to formulate a plan that would have killed a former housemate due to a vendetta which you instigated?"
"But…but… MacLeod has had it out for me since the beginning! Just look what happened to me in the last few weeks!"
Sounds like someone is cracking under pressure, smiled Harry.
"Indeed. And yet, for each of your accusations, Harry MacLeod has had credited alibis with multiple witnesses. Yet you Draco, have been blaming Harry for each and everyone one of your screw-ups ever since you arrived."
Come now, finish him with the one-two combo.
Snape stood straight, his dark eyes and face of fury glaring directly at the trembling boy. "Clearly, you are now worthy of being you father's son. No Malfoy could possibly be this foolish, this naïve…"
Yes, YES, FINISH HIM! (7)
"…this poor of a wizard. Truly, I am surprised you can call yourself a pure-blood wizard. You are no better than a Muggle."
And then he broke: Draco fell to his knees, his childhood psyche, shattered by beating he would never recover from. For Draco Malfoy – for any future Death Eater in training – to be called anything less than a wizard, to be called something as low as a Muggle… It's simply too much for the fragile child ego to handle, especially one as inflated as his.
It was like putting a pin through an overinflated balloon.
It was at this moment – as Harry precisely timed - the owls flooded into the Great Hall for mail. Except instead of little parcels and messages, a mass of owls flew in, each group of six carrying a long, thin package with some boxes attached at the sides. Each group of owls dropped the parcels to certain members of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff – but not for Slytherin. Soon, the members of Slytherin watched as the members of the Quidditch teams all screamed and squealed in excitement at the arrival of their new fitted gear, as well as their new Nimbus Two Thousands and other broom brands. As Harry took up the bowl of bacon he had prepared earlier for the birds, the members of Slytherin watched at the horror as all the Houses received new equipment and brooms.
"My, my, isn't this the sight? It seems like someone heard about the shortage of up to date Quidditch equipment in the school and the lack of budget to replace them," Harry stood tiptoed, looking out the windows for other possible owls. He looked back at the Slytherin House, all staring at him in comprehension, "Maybe the owls with your equipment got lost somewhere."
And then slowly, in all the chaos and excitement, while most of the students – but not the teachers and a select few – watched the owls fly away, came the coup de grâce.
Harry leaned in close to Draco, whispering in his ear, with his Voice active at full power. "Remember this moment Draco – remember it for the rest of your miserable life. This is what it looks like when you cross the wrong person. This is what it looks like when you say the wrong thing at the wrong time. This is what happens, when one simple decision… a choice of words… the misuse of free will… when the flapping of a butterflies wings cascades into a savage storm. Remembers this day Draco Lucius Malfoy… for this is the day you lost. Not in the grand scheme of things, not in some political game, not in a contest of wits or strength, NO… you simply lost a petty squabble that ended up like this. You thought you were the wolf among the sheep, thinking that everyone here was your plaything. But you forgot the most important thing of all – there is always a wolf in sheep's clothing hidden among the herd. Face it Draco, you were never the big fish in this pond." (8)
As tears streamed down Draco's face and insanity set up residence in his mind, Harry delivered the punchline, "Remember when I told there were ways to kill someone and leave no evidence behind? Technically, that was true – but it's just so hard to convince someone when they have lost their sanity that they had it to begin with. But isn't that just life for you – a big black, awful joke of a world, screwing with you when you least expect it with no justification for the smallest of offenses and decisions? Like it's all just a big game of roulette and chance? I mean, you're not unintelligent! You must see the reality of the situation. It's all a joke! Everything you and your family and others like them did to get to this point... it's all a monstrous, demented gag! You are a dying breed, and Muggles and Half-bloods are the future because of the bastards your ancestors sired and threw out. You lot left them breed and populate the world. Now, when the magic gene reared its ugly head in full force, you bigots are too stuck in your aways to go with the new status-quo. So why not accept it? Why not go down with the ship or float with the rats? Why can't you see the funny side? Why… aren't… you… laughing?" (8)
With that last line, the child known as Draco Malfoy was never more.
As Harry got up, Draco chuckled.
As Harry went to congratulate Wood on his new equipment, Draco snickered.
As everyone realized that it was Harry who gave them their new supplies, Draco laughed.
As teachers watched in silence while the students celebrated, Draco went hysterical.
As Snape watched in an unemotional amusement and considering the blow dealt to Lucius, Draco was carried away.
As Slytherin watched in horror... in fear, finally realizing that Harry MacLeod was the most Slytherin of them all, while the other Houses celebrated in ignorance. They watched at a quiet Harry, smiling his wolfish smile, thinking to himself as he shook Neville's hand in the merriment, that St. Mungo's would have a new admission soon enough.
"We are out of our league here, George."
"I think we are, Fred."
"Should we still invite him in?"
"I think that if this is any indication, it would be better if we were asked to join him."
"You can't be serious."
"George, as far as we are concerned, we are staying as far away from Harry as possible."
"Come on Fred, he can't be that bad."
"Oh no George, I am not saying Harry MacLeod is a bad person; heck, he is the best that happened to Hogwarts in who knows how long!... No, he is a vengeful person. He doesn't do tricks – he does retribution."
As the festivities died down and the teachers attempted to calm the students in all their excitement, Harry attempted to sneak away from the hall.
He wasn't two steps past the corner when he heard, "How did you know?"
Harry turned to see Professor Snape watching him.
"How did you know I would play along?"
"I didn't – I would have just gone with my backup plan if you decided not to."
"But how did you know that I would read the note you left for me in my office?"
"The same way I know that you have been trying to figure me out since that failed attempt to read my mind of the first day of class – I just do."
Snape didn't do anything to show his surprise.
Harry held up his hand, "Don't take it the wrong way, Professor – unlike you, I will never have the ability to read minds. No, I go about it the long and tedious way: I study people."
"And that is how you knew that I would throw Malfoy – how do Muggles say it? – 'under the bus'?"
Harry shrugged – it was becoming a bad habit at this point - "Because I know that you are Dumbledore's spy in the Death Eaters."
Snape's face didn't even twitch or spasm.
"Don't act like you don't know what I am talking about. I read the Ministry reports and heard the rumors; I know how to read between the lines. You were a Death Eater, but you turned your back on Voldemort – I don't know why, but you did. You joined the Order of the Phoenix and to this day, you been working with Dumbledore to hinder them at every turn. And now, I have given you a pass."
"A pass?"
"Yes, a pass. I know you have to grovel yourself to Lucius Malfoy so that he will tell you things you need to hear. I know that you think you are better than him, just like I know you would do anything for an opportunity to get back at him. It's why you set up such high standards in Potions: granted, it weeds out too many people to give Aurors a decent number of recruits, but on the flipside, almost no Slytherin has managed to make it through to your N.E.W.T level course despite the best tutoring money can buy for those spoiled bastards (9), blocking a lot of high ranking Ministry positions out their grubby hands – positions in which no amount of bribery can help. It's why I planned it out like this. I knew about Draco's plan to flood the room, so I took advantage of the situation. I didn't expect Draco to get injured so badly with the broom nor did I expect to be transferred to Gryffindor – thanks by the way, that was nice of you. I did, however, plan the delivery of the supplies as well as the flooding of all of Slytherin. And yet, if Lucius cries fowl, you can play the innocent. I know you were away all of last night on a special assignment and that you came back just in time for lunch. I know that you had a choice to either support Draco's accusations of defending me – you choose wisely. Now, with all the stuff that had occurred to Draco before and with the justification of you having to maintain your ruse to fool others, the worst Lucius can do is leave you out of the loop for a while. He can't kill you nor dismiss you because you're his closest agent to Dumbledore's workings. If anything, he will ask you to find a way to kill me, which you won't be able to do anymore since I am now part of Gryffindor. He will want to argue otherwise, but he won't because he ignored his son's earlier please for assistance in getting rid of me. Instead, he will wallow in self-pity and redouble his efforts in making up for the mistakes of his son. If anything, he will be more distracted from his efforts in bringing about Voldemort's ideology or securing his base of power. Now is the best chance for you, Snape, to get information out of him you couldn't before with your Legilimency while his defenses are at their weakest."
As Harry spoke, Snape's faced faltered more and more, until it eventually cracked at the realization of what kind of game Harry was playing. "What are you, Harry MacLeod?"
Harry looked down at his feet in shame before starring the man straight in the eyes, "I am a man, sir. I am not an evil man, but I am also not a good one either. Good men don't need rules, not like me. Today was not the day to find out why I have so many."
Snape wasn't a foolish man, and even he could understand the context behind those words. "How far ahead did you plan all this out?"
"I only planned this a day ago, if you can believe. I wanted to make this last as long as possible, but Dumbledore gave me an out. He saw where I was heading and thought so many moves ahead. I may be a Chessmaster of some level, but Dumbledore is levels above me, and that is saying something."
Harry finally relaxed as he continued, "You know, the irony is that I wasn't going to go that far with Draco. I was just planning to scare him until he got furious, which he did – just sooner than I thought. Anger is always the shortest distance to a mistake (10), and his was allowing me to overhear his plans in drowning me. I still don't know he managed to figure out the spell work in the dungeon, but I don't have to look far to see the yellow brick road."
Harry sighed, looking at Snape not in enjoyment, but in pity. "You know what the worst part of winning this battle is?"
"What?"
"That sometimes, winning is no fun at all. I mean, look at the whole fiasco: I broke a man because he deserved it and I shattered a House as collateral damage just to make a point. Now, Draco is in pieces, somewhere in the dark with a candle light solving the puzzle that is him. The problems here is that not everyone comes back out of the dark – not even me."
And with that, Harry slivered away, Professor Snape stuck in place, gauging and weighing the meaning behind the student's words.
As Snape turned away to return to the dungeon and assess the damage, he couldn't help but whisper to himself, "The best way to not get your heart broken, is pretending you don't have one."
Snape looked back down the hall, "You are too young for this game, MacLeod. Much too young."
Finally, alone, Harry took out a package that was delivered by a small, dark owl, that amidst all the confusion he managed to sneak away unnoticed. Harry opened it to see piles upon piles of paperwork. Damn magical packages – always bigger on the inside. A top of it all laid a letter, one that Harry opened first before anything else.
Salutations Mr. Potter,
It's good to hear from you again. We have managed to recuperate the losses we made with the information you provided regarding your father's machinations. Truly, he is powerful man to have done the things you have described. As per our request, inside this package, you will find all the personal and financial information regarding one Lucius Malfoy son of Abraxas Malfoy, husband of Narcissa Black and the father of Draco Malfoy. Best endeavors in your quest to destroy your enemies. We will speak again soon.
Griphook
P.S. All is ready regarding your plans for Sirius Black. You all but have to give the time and date to set your plans in motion.
P.S.S. The Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy may have finally found a way to legally gain access to your vaults. I am afraid your existence will not be hidden for much longer.
Harry groaned at the last part of the message. He quickly sealed the package away for another day, for he has done enough to indulge the darker aspects of his being for a long time.
If this is the game you want to play Lucius, then let's play. Benko Gambit engaged (11). You move, Malfoy. I plan to play the long game this time.
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