#also there's some accidental side blaise/ron that i may look into later

[professordrarry]

It's an open secret to everyone in the auror department that aurors Malfoy and Potter have it bad for each other, but it all culminates when Ron and Blaise accidentally bond them together. Will Harry and Draco be able to hide their feelings on such close proximity?

Hey, can you believe I’ve never written a bond fic???? Sorry because this is gonna be a  r o u g h ride. Also it’s accidentally 2 k……

“Blaise, do you think we actually have to tell them?” Ron had finally pulled off his robes; Blaise was pretty grateful since they stank like the tubers they’d been bagging up since noon. Grateful, too, for other reasons, even if Ron was married and vanilla and definitely not interested.

“You’re kidding, right?” Blaise crossed his arms to glare at Ron. “Do you honestly think they won’t notice?”

“Well, okay, but see,” Ron insisted. “I’ve been thinking about it since this morning. I’m honestly nor sure they would notice, Zabini! They spend literally all their time flirting and teasing each other anyway. And they’re partners. It’s not like the proximity will be a problem.”

“Yeah, sure,” Blaise scoffed. “Until they try to go home, Weasley!” Ron scowled. He cleared his throat. Blaise sighed; reticent, Weasley was dangerous. It almost always ended up with Blaise doing a shit tonne of paperwork and sitting in front of the Wizengamot.

He didn’t need to tell anyone that the plans were almost always brilliant and worthwhile, as well.

“What’s your brilliant idea, then?” Blaise asked reluctantly.

“We put them on the Maffin case.”

Blaise’s head snapped back to Ron; his brain was working so fast, he barely had time to actually notice the freckles that decorated the man’s chest in a beautiful splatter or the scars that marred the surface in a masterful maze all down his arm.

“That actually is Brilliant,” Blaise murmured, thoughts whirling. “Bloody hell, Ron. How long have you been working on that one.”

“Took me about twenty minutes to get there,” Ron admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and looking extremely uncomfortable. “I’ve just spent the past four hours working up the nerve to suggest it.”

Blaise laughed. “Don’t know why’d you be nervous, mate. We’ve all agreed those two need to get over themselves. This is just…an unfortunately convenient confluence.”

“So wait,” Ron clarified. “We agree. We don’t tell Draco or Harry about the side effects of the plants we confiscated this afternoon?” “Absolutely not.”

“And also, we put them on the unsolvable case that has had the last three Auror teams working on it basically living at the Ministry?”

“I think you may have accidentally become the most brilliant of all Ministry employees, today, Ron. Are we sure that accidental amourous bonding is the only side effect of Matiligha Root?”

“Fuck off,” Ron joked, pulling a shirt on his head and swinging his bag on his shoulder. “I’m going home to shower with soap that doesn’t smell like a very shit hotel. Night, Zabini.”

“Tomorrow, Weasley. I’ll go put in the memo before those idiots try to leave.”

“This is going to be hilarious.”

Draco was exhausted. He hadn’t slept properly in a week. Just like the last three teams that had tried to crack the Maffin ring of illegal potions transfers, he and Potter had decided to just stay in the office so that the alarms they set would actually result in an arrest. So far, they had not only been entirely unsuccessful, but Draco’s back may never again work properly thanks to the ancient cots Harry had found in a dingy closet on the fourth floor. By all rights, he should also be about ready to kill his partner. The fact that he is actually sort of content with the proximity is sort of alarming. More worryingly, he is actually starting to appreciate the gentle midnight snoring and morning coffee shared while sitting cross-legged on their separate beds.

“Morning,” Harry said blearily, returning to the office with large mugs and a tray hovering in front of them. “We’re in luck. Marjorie decided to do her job today and turned up on time to make pastries. These were outside the office door.”

“Oh Merlin, they smell good,” Draco groaned, taking a croissant and a scone, deciding immediately that he didn’t want to choose.

“I hate that you can eat like a twelve-year-old and stay fit,” Harry said with a yawn, handing him a coffee and settling down beside him on Draco’s mattress.

Draco froze. They were very close; his face heated and he shuffled slightly away from Harry, who frowned. Draco knew the problem. He didn’t want to move away. He was actually pretty sure at this point that Harry didn’t want him to move away either, but he had no idea how to handle that in the middle of their office floor. It had become much more noticeable this week; they’d been spending way too much time together. It was getting harder and harder to deal with the gentle teasing tone, the subtle touches on the shoulder instead of saying his name to get his attention, the fact that they frequently side-along Apparated unnecessarily, or the distinct reality that when they landed, they often stayed attached at the arms for a hiccup longer than was strictly required to regain balance.

The more important realisation of Potter being this close, though, was that the gentle hum of the air around them seemed to still and the ache in the back of his skull disappeared the moment Harry sat. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Headache again?” Harry asked, brows knitted.

“No, actually,” Draco exclaimed.

“That’s what I was just noticing. First time in days.”

“You should go see a healer,” Harry muttered around a bite of scone, leaning back against the wall and drawing his knees up.

“Nah, I’m sure it’s just stress. We should both go home tonight.” Draco shrugged.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry agreed. “Could use a proper shower and a mattress.”

Draco nodded. Not to mention an actual wank, he let himself think.

The day was uneventful; they did paperwork, managed to convince the uppers that they were making progress, and finally, packed up to go home.

“Night, Malfoy,” Harry said, drawing his coat over his shoulders. “Think maybe tomorrow we should go back up to Scotland to check on that uncle thing again.”

“Yeah, alright,” Draco replied, passing Harry his briefcase.

They nodded to each other and Harry stood on the Apparition spot.

Draco fell immediately to the floor; his head split in two, and there may have been a scream emitting from his mouth, but he passed out before he confirmed it. In the last moment of his consciousness, he managed to punch the badge on his chest until it glowed purple.

When he opened his eyes again, his head was in Harry’s lap, and there was a distinct smell of ozone in the office. “There’s a healer on the way,” Harry said hoarsely. “You’ve been out since I turned back up. Did you see what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Draco insisted, trying and failing to sit up. He collapsed again and Harry’s hand, he noticed, went back to his hair, stroking it back from his face gently.

“Well, obviously something happened. I left and then—”

“The headache just got really bad,” Draco interrupted.Harry stared at him for a moment, then pushed his glasses up onto the top of his head. He sighed.

“Draco, when did the headaches start?”

“I told you, when we got the Maffin case.”

“Yeah, and do you remember the day of Zabini handing off the Maffin case.”

“Assume that right now, I don’t remember much,” Draco said softly, his head fuzzy and warm in Potter’s lap. He was afraid to shift too much, make Harry aware that he was still there.

“Matiligha Root,” Harry explained. “I haven’t thought about it until now because this case has been so stressful. Of course you’ve had a headache and passed out when I left. We’re bonded.”

Draco’s brow tightened. “No, we can’t be. We’d have noticed. The bond affects…they’re super obvious. Overwhelming attraction. Inability to be apart. Emotional upheaval.”

Harry looked away and Draco knew he was not imagining the extreme blush on his face. “Well, usually, yes,” Harry said gruffly. “Only…”

“What?” Draco demanded, sitting up in alarm despite the spinning it caused him. “Say what you’re thinking. Am I dying? Is this a particularly potent bond? We both know you’re the plant guy around here, so out with it.”

“No, it’s just…” Harry hesitated. “Well, I mean, the root hasn’t been studied on people who are… erm… already…”

Draco suddenly understood. “Oh,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry returned, now the colour of a beetroot. “I think maybe I wouldn’t have noticed. That’s why I didn’t get the headache.”

Draco stared at Harry for a moment, taking in the implications of that last phrase; surely, Draco thought, even he was not this clueless? Yet, it seemed that that was what Harry meant. He seemed to be convinced that he was the only one who would not have noticed a sudden influx of flirting, attraction, desire for one’s Auror partner.

Ignoring the dizziness, Draco made a decision; he crawled forward toward Harry and gently took his glasses off his head. He didn’t want to break them. He kept advancing until he was leaning into Harry, then kept going. He slowly backed them both onto the floor and let his weight collapse onto Harry, who didn’t seem to be breathing.

“I have a headache because I can’t bear to be more than a foot away from you,” Draco whispered, pinning Harry to the floor a little less gently. “So which of us do you think would have noticed first?”

He kissed Harry gently. He didn’t want to be gentle; the hum had grown louder, but it was warm and comforting. He wanted to ravage this man right here on the floor, wreck him for all others, possess him until there was no doubt in his mind that Draco felt the same way. He didn’t even really care if it was only the bond that made him feel this way. He managed to restrain himself only because the distant memory of an approaching Healer balanced with sudden irritation. He pulled back and smoothed out Harry’s hair. Harry took a deep breath, likely the result of lack of oxygen.

“You realise, of course, that we have to kill Weasley and Zabini now,” Draco said quietly. Harry grinned. “Do you think they knew?” 

“Draco, not to be indelicate,” Harry replied, drawing his arms around Draco’s waist and pulling him back down to him. “I think that it’s possible everyone knew?” 

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part five

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

(y/n) walks inside the huge double doors of Hogwarts when she gets hit in the face by a balloon. It explodes and leaves her soaking wet.

"Oh fuck you Peeves."

Peeves shrieks in delight seeing Millicent’s smooth newly straightened hair frizz back up to her usual red curls.

(y/n), Millicent and Daphne walk inside the bright Great Hall.

You eye your usual spot where Draco is sitting with his henchmen and you drag your friends away. They shoot you confused looks because you always sit in the exact center of the Slytherin table but you smile reassuringly.

"I want to be near the front today. So Daphne can have a front row seat to her sister's sorting ceremony."

Daphnee looks charmed by your thoughtfulness.

Thank god I was born a good liar.

The hat sings another ridiculous song. The first years line through the great hall and Professor Mcgonagall begins shouting names out. You start cracking your knuckles waiting for someone else to be sorted into Slytherin so your house can cheer loudly,

"Greengrass, Astoria"

"SLYTHERIN"

What seems like the entirety of the Slytherin house jumps up and cheers for the little brunette girl.

A proud looking Astoria Green takes the hat off and hurries to the Slytherin table, where everyone was applauding her. Harry caught a glance of (y/n) cheering Astoria on. For a fleeting second, Harry had a strange desire to join the Slytherin table too.

During the whole dinner, (y/n) could feel Draco's eyes burning into the back of her head. She focused hard on not looking to her right and meeting his eyes. But during  dessert, while searching for the treacle tart, you meet his eyes. He looks strangely hurt?

As soon as Dumbledore starts his usual speech you zone out and start thinking about the hundreds of things on your mind and worrying about your father's business.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"WHAT! Did he just... That's ridiculous... He can't possibly... Tell me he didn't just say... no quidditch?" You're at a loss for words.

Even if (y/n) didn't play Quidditch herself she was the Slytherin team's number one fan. She was there at any game, didn't matter the weather, and she screamed her lungs out cheering. The team even gave her an honorary member's Quidditch robe for Christmas. It was one of her most cherished possession.

For the first time this evening, you willingly look at Draco. You know that as the Slytherin Seeker Draco would be flipping tables. His cool gray eyes meet yours. He looks utterly unphased. You cock your head to the side, silently asking him What the fuck is going on?.

Just wait. He mouths back. (y/n) rolls her eyes at him, obviously annoyed and turns away.

A battered looking man bursts through the doors. His glass eye jerking around then fixes on (y/n). A shudder goes down her spine.

What a creepy little man.

"May I introduce the New Defense against The Dark Arts teacher" Professor Dumbledore bellows. "Professor Moody!"

Jesus fucking Christ.

"As I was saying" Dumbledore continues " we have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my greatest pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"YOU'RE JOKING!" says Fred loudly.

You were too busy trying to remember a conversation you overheard at the Burrow about Professor Moody to process all the excitement around you.

As students start to file out of the Great Hall, you feel someone tug at your robes.

"Do you know there's house elves at Hogwarts?" Hermione presses.

" Um yeah, never been to the kitchens?"

"No. And it wasn't mentioned in Hogwarts: A History." She purses her lips and continues.

"Do you have house elves (y/n)."

"We had a couple elves when I was little but then one of my dad's muggle business partners accidentally spotted one and the ministry had to erase his memory. Quite a funny little accident actually. So then my dad freed the elves and got muggle staff. Why?"

"Oh (y/n)! We have to do something about the house elves. It's basically slave labour. I was thinking about starting an organisa-"

She gets cut off by Fred and George.

" That's bloody bullshit! They can't do that!" George bursts. " We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot!"

"They're not stopping me entering." says Fred stubbornly. " The Champion'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be able to do normally. And a hundred thousand Galleons."

"Yeah" says Ron wistfully "Yeah, a hundred thousand Galleons."

"God, Ron don't tell me you were actually thinking of entering. You wouldn't last a second" You tease.

"I'd last longer than you." He says poking his tongue out.

"Don't know about that" Harry joins.

"(Y/N) C'MON YOU'RE TAKING FOREVER." Daphne hollers from across the hall.

Ron turns a little pink when he hears her voice. Even though he would never admit it, you know he had a slight crush on Daphne.

You wave the Gryffindors goodbye and go meet your other friends.

"Death toll, huh?" Millicent says.

"Who do you think is gonna enter?" Daphne quips.

"I know Nick is gonna want to enter." Rolling your eyes at Millicent, who's blushes furiously whenever you mention your brother. " And probably some of his friends."

"You think Jeremy Barlett will enter? You shattered his nose less than a day ago!"

"Who knows" You laugh.

"(y/n)!"

You turn at the sound of that voice.

"Don't forget our date Saturday" Cedric shouts from the other end of the hallway. A group of Ravenclaw girls glare at you. You blush furiously as you walk towards him.

"A date, huh?" You smirk "Sorry Diggory I have no clue what you're talking about

He laughs. A beautiful melodic laugh. "Saturday, nine thirty, Great Hall."

"Only if you bring chocolate frogs" You cross your arms. He shakes his head and chuckles.

"Done."

You see Nick and his friends round the corner of the hallway, they join Cedric’s side.

"Oi Ced! Is my little sister annoying you?" Nick chuckles.

Yay! The arrogant asshole's here.

"Oh fuck off Nick" You say hitting him with the back of your hand.

"Feisty" Says Xavier, his Ravenclaw friend.

"Now now (y/n), that's no way to speak to your brother, the future Triwizard champion." Nick boasts.

You stifle a sarcastic laugh.

"Nick, you're not seriously thinking about entering" (y/n) wheezes "even Jeremy, with his broken nose, has a better chance of winning than you."

Nick shoots you the dirtiest look. Eager to change the subject he says

"Any of you guys entering?"

"Maybe"

"Sure thing"

"Absolutely"

"Of course"

(y/n) is taken aback by Cedric's answer. She turns to him.

"You're entering?"

Cedric looks down at the pretty little face looking up at him."You're entering?" She asks, a worried grimace flashes across her face."Yeah why ? Don't think I can do it?" He would never admit it but her opinion mattered to him, a lot. "No um I mean you're really talented but are you sure you should. It's.. it’s really dangerous."

Cedric doesn't miss the slight blush that sweeps across her cheeks as she says this.

Before he could answer, Professor McGonagall stomps in.

"Everyone to your common rooms now!"

"We'll talk Saturday, okay?"

She smiles his favourite slight smile. "See you later Diggory."

"Goodnight (y/n)." Cedric smiles the whole way back to the Hufflepuff common room.

"Let me get this straight" Daphne says walking inside the Slytherin common rooms. "Cedric freaking Diggory asked you on a date! And you didn't bother mentioning it to us! For God sakes (y/n)!"

"More importantly what are you gonna wear?" Millicent asks as the three of you sit down on one of the leather couches.

"Hadn't really thought about that." You admit to her. She huffs and playfully rolls her eyes.

"Don't worry we'll find you the perfect date outfit." Daphne reassures you.

"Date?" A low posh voice curiously chuckles. On the couch facing you are the rest of your Slytherin friends. Draco, Theodore and Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were there as well but due to their lack of personality, they were more like furniture.

"Yes, Draco. A date. Is that so surprising?"

" With who? Your new friend Potter?" He sneers, obviously jealous of how much time you've been spending with Harry.

"Cedric Diggory." The look on Draco's face was absolutely priceless.

He scoffs. "A Hufflepuff? You could do better"

"I would never be caught dead on a date with a Puff" Pansy says, eager to join the conversation.

"Trust me Pansy, you're not gonna be caught dead on a date with anyone." You answer back.

The boys try to muffle their laughter while the girls spread out leaving no room for her to sit. She sits on the arm rest anyways. The subject of the conversation quickly changes.

"Did you see his glass eye?" Blaise asks you.

"How could she miss it" Millicent laughs " He was staring at her the entire time." Draco seems to stiffen at those words.

"While I was at the Burrow this summer, I overheard Mr.Weasley and Mr.Diggory talking about him and they said he's basically insane."

Draco chokes on his drink.

"YOU SPENT YOUR SUMMER WITH THE WEASELS!?"

"Got a problem with that, Draco?" You ask, arching your brows at him.

"Is it true they sleep in carton boxes, on the ground?" Pansy snickers looking extra proud of her oh-so-witty remark.

"Pansy, I hope you fall down the stairs and break your neck." You say in your sweetest voice.

She finally goes up to her dormitory, defeated.

"Alright goodnight boys. We're going up." You say.

Draco looks like he's about to say something else but you shoot him a I don't wanna hear it glance and walk up the stairs.

At the opposite end of the castle, Harry, Ron, and Neville got into their pajamas and into bed. Someone — a house-elf, no doubt — had placed warming pans between the sheets. It was extremely comfortable, lying there in bed and listening to the storm raging outside.

"I might go in for it, you know," Ron said sleepily through the darkness, "if Fred and George find out how to . . . the tournament . . . you never know, do you?"

"S'pose not. . . ."

Harry rolled over in bed, a series of dazzling new pictures forming in his mind's eye. . . . He had hoodwinked the impartial judge into believing he was seventeen . . . he had become Hogwarts champion . . . he was standing on the grounds, his arms raised in triumph in front of the whole school, all of whom were applauding and screaming . . . he had just won the Triwizard Tournament. . . . (y/n)'s face stood out particularly clearly in the blurred crowd, her face glowing with admiration. . . .

Harry grinned into his pillow, exceptionally glad that Ron couldn't see what he could

[andystanberg]

Red Hair and Hand Me Downs: Chapter 4

Family Don’t End in Blood

Chapter 3 | Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad | Chapter 5

Chapter Summary

Harry gets acquainted with the other Slytherins. He also receives a lesson in blood.

-

Harry was too relieved that he didn't end up as a hatstall and was with Draco and Pansy to notice the way only Slytherins cheered and clapped for him on his short walk over. It was only when he had sat down in between Draco and Pansy and had looked around did he realise that for all the other first-years, they had gotten a few polite claps from the other tables, despite being in different houses.

Instead, every other house, especially the Gryffindors and even most teachers, were staring at him in shock. Harry ducked his head to stare at the empty table in front of him when the whispers started up again.

“Harry Potter? A Slytherin? No way.”

“Potter’s a Slytherin! What does this mean?”

There were many others, all variations of the two. Harry couldn’t understand why this was.

“Harry,” someone whispered. He looked up at Draco’s still-composed face. “Ignore them. They’re just jealous. The other Slytherins are all proud, see?”

Harry couldn’t resist the temptation and sat up. What Draco had said about the Slytherins was mostly true, aside from one or two of the older students who were scowling at the redhead. Harry averted his gaze back towards the Sorting. Draco and Pansy slung an arm around his shoulders and out of the corner of his eye, he could see them glaring daggers at any student who dared to even look his way. He relaxed minutely, grateful for them.

“Weasley, Ronald.”

Harry watched intently as Ron walked up the stool. Like Draco, the hat had barely touched the boy’s head before declaring him a Gryffindor. Harry clapped enthusiastically, noting that Fred, George and Percy were doing the same. Ron seemed to sense his gaze, as a moment later, he looked over and waved cheerily.

Harry had been a little worried that Ron would snub him like the rest of the school had done, but in the end, he needn’t have. He waved back.

The last first-year to be sorted, Blaise Zabini, looked at him weirdly. The other Slytherins, aside from Pansy, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle (the last two too busy complaining about the lack of food), shared the same expression.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Potter, please tell me I didn’t see you just wave to a Gryffindor.” The scorn was evident in Blaise’s voice.

Harry suppressed a sigh. Maybe hating my friends is another one of those wizarding customs I’m unaware of, Harry thought sarcastically.

Draco, who appeared to be resigning himself to the exact same thought, cut in. “Look, Blaise. Gryffindors are okay. Harry, Pansy and I know three of them and they’ve all been… reasonably nice.” Seeing Blaise’s disapproving look, he added, “Well, one of them was a blubbering mess and the other was rude and bossy, but –“ he saw Zabini smiling smugly and scowled. “It’s not like you can talk, though.”

Blaise still didn’t look convinced.

“Zabini, stop being a close-minded prat. That Gryffindor is a friend of Harry Potter’s. Don’t you think that ought to mean something?” Pansy rolled her eyes. What she said must have had more effect on him, as a second later, he apologised.

“Sorry, Potter,” he muttered.

“No problem.” Harry waved him off. “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

Draco and Pansy gave him guilty looks.

Everyone’s attentions were brought back to the front of the Hall as the eldest wizard of the teaching staff stood up. Harry recognised him as Albus Dumbledore from the Chocolate Frog card he had read on the train. He started trying to recall what the card had said – something about a dark wizard, dragon’s blood and a guy called Nick… No, that can’t be it. Nicolas, perhaps? Yes. Now what was his last name?

Harry was broken out of his thoughts at the sound of gasps filling the Hall. Apparently he was so distracted that he didn’t hear Dumbledore’s speech. He looked down and saw that the previously empty golden plates were now filled with every kind of food imaginable. His mouth watered. He saw the rest of the Slytherins serving themselves and quickly followed suit.

Harry had never seen so much food in his life. He piled his plate with some of everything – excluding a type of unappealing boiled sweet.

–

Harry had finished a quarter of what was on his plate – which, despite not sounding like much, was quite a feat,  considering how he wasn’t used to eating that much and the sheer amount of food he had hoarded – when a ghost captured his attention. Or, to put it more accurately, drifted through him.

The cold-shower-on-the-inside feeling gave Harry a nasty shock, but, believe it or not, that wasn’t what had made him lose his appetite. I hope ghosts don’t make going through me a habit, Harry thought, as the ghost finally noticed what it had done. It floated above the table in front of him instead. The redhead blanched as he took in the ghost’s bloodied robes, gaunt face, sunken eyes and pale complexion.

Draco didn’t look too happy with the ghost’s general appearance either.

“First-years,” the ghost greeted with a curt nod. “I am your house ghost. You may call me the Bloody Baron – only the Bloody Baron.” A few of the Slytherins around him, including Harry, gulped. “I expect you all to win us the House Championship for the seventh year in a row. I hope you will not disappoint me.”

This was all said very threateningly.

The Bloody Baron was called away by some older Slytherin. Harry sighed in relief, before pushing his almost completely full plate away. He glanced at Draco and saw the boy looking worried for a brief second, but then Harry blinked and the boy was already chatting to Blaise about something. Harry shrugged it off.

After a while, it became apparent that most of the first-year Slytherins knew each other from before Hogwarts, aside from two girls. One was very tall, towering over most of the Slytherin boys, with wild black hair. Harry thought he would not like to cross her at all. She introduced herself as Millicent Bulstrode.

The other was quite the opposite. She was on the small side of average for an eleven-year-old girl’s height, with tan skin and straight brown hair. This girl pushed up her glasses that, unlike Harry’s, suited her quite well, and announced, “Tracey Davis.”

Having finished long before everyone else, it gave Harry time to survey the staff table. Among them was Hagrid, who was drinking deeply from his goblet, Professor McGonagall, who was having a chat with Professor Dumbledore and a bunch of other teachers. The one that Harry was most interested in, however, was talking to Professor Quirrell.

The unknown teacher had raven-black hair, a hooked nose and unhealthily pale skin. He must have sensed Harry’s gaze, because suddenly he was looking straight at him. At the same time, an iron-hot pain flashed across the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Ow!” he cried, pressing a hand to his scar, but the pain was already gone. In its place, an uncomfortable feeling settled in.

“What happened?” Draco asked immediately. His worry only worsened when he saw how Harry was rubbing his scar.

“Nothing.” Draco kept looking at him. Desperate to change the subject, Harry then asked, “Draco, who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?”

Draco turned around. Upon seeing who Harry meant, his face lit up. “Oh, that’s Professor Snape. He’s the head of Slytherin and our Potions teacher.”

Harry recalled Draco telling him that on the boats earlier. Dread filled his stomach. “Right,” he mumbled. Malfoy didn’t pursue it further.

“So, what did you all do on your holidays?” Daphne Greengrass asked out of nowhere. “My family went to Paris! Such a shame, really. My sister and I wanted to go someplace else for a change.” She pouted. Daphne was blonde, tall, fair and pretty – kind of like the female version of Draco, Harry mused.

“My mother decided we needed mother-daughter bonding time,” Pansy mocked, “so instead of going overseas like we usually do, we were stuck in our manor doing nothing aside from sitting and talking while my father was ‘away on business’ at the Ministry. I did find out some good gossip, however. Blaise, why don’t you tell us what your mother has been up to?” Heads swivelled to the Zabini boy, who was scowling.

“Bugger off, Parkinson. But if you must know, my dear mother has a new suitor in her sights,” he said casually.

“What happened to the old one?” Theodore Nott taunted, not seeming to expect a real answer. He didn’t get one. “I spent my holiday travelling across Europe. We got to meet the local wizards, though, more interestingly, I learnt about Ancient Rome. Did you know powerful wizards used to make muggles fight each other as a sport? I believe the muggles were called gladiators – something like that.”

“Don’t muggles do that now without wizards controlling them?” Blaise pointed out. “Anyway, what about you, Potter?”

Everyone turned to face him. Harry didn’t know what to say. ‘Oh, my relatives kept me locked in a cupboard while you were all off with your families and half-starved me after I accidentally set a snake on my cousin at the zoo. Also, I only found out I was a wizard after Hagrid knocked down the door to a hut on a rock surrounded by sea. It’s a funny story on how I got there, why don’t I tell you? Yeah, because that will go down well,’ he thought bitterly.

Instead, he said, “What about Millicent and Tracey? We haven’t heard from them yet.”

Tracey spoke first. “My father, the wizard in my family, taught me some spells. I mostly spent the summer practising wand movements. My muggle mother tried to teach me how to cook, but it didn’t go very well.” She grimaced.

Millicent was next. “My mother gave me fashion magazines. I used incendio on Witch Weekly until she got the hint.”

Harry wondered if he should point out that magic wasn’t allowed outside of school for underage wizards, but after seeing the others’ approving nods, he wasn’t sure.

“Now you, Potter. Surely the saviour of the wizarding world would’ve done something interesting over the holidays,” she demanded.

Harry gulped. There was no way he could pass it on to Crabbe or Goyle, as they were too busy stuffing their mouths with as much food as possible. Before he could think up a lie, however, Dumbledore stood up again.

“Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered,” the wizard called out. “I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note the forest in the grounds is strictly forbidden to all pupils.” He droned on, telling them about the no-magic rule in corridors, Quidditch trials, and, most interestingly, about the third-floor corridor ban.

Harry must have spent too long wondering if he was serious about the whole “painful death” thing, as soon they were being called to the front of a tall Slytherin student. She had the same shiny badge with a ‘P’ on it that Percy had.

“First-years, over here please! My name is Gemma Farley and I’ll be leading you to your dormitories. Please remember that no one from other houses are allowed into our common room, so keep the password to yourselves. Follow me!”

As she led them away from the feast and down a staircase or two, the first-years all happily chatted amongst themselves.

“That was the most food I’ve ever seen – let alone had!” Harry laughed. Draco shot him a surprised look. It looked like he was about to say something when someone commented on the temperature drop. Harry shivered when he realised that it was pretty cold in what must have been the Hogwarts’ dungeons.

“You’ll get used to it!” Gemma called over her shoulder. They kept walking until they were in front of a blank stone wall.

Harry thought there must have been a mistake, or that maybe you had to tap the bricks in a pattern like Hagrid had done to get into Diagon Alley until Gemma said clearly, “Meracus.” This must have been the password they were expected to remember as a second later, the wall slid across to reveal a passageway. At the end was a well-lit room, with mostly green furnishings. All around were large windows that showed the murky water outside, giving the room a green tinge. Harry figured they were surrounded by the lake.

“The password changes every fortnight, so you need to keep checking the notices,” Gemma explained. “You see that stairway to your left that leads downwards? Those are the boy dormitories. The one on the right are the girls. A fair warning: boys cannot enter girl dormitories. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to come to me or any of the other Slytherin Prefects. Our Head of House is Professor Snape, who you can also come to. I think that’s all – I forget things easily – so off you go!”

With that, the first-years took it as their cue to race to the separate dormitories. The boys shoved their way into their new room and laughed as they sprinted to claim the best bed. Harry followed behind them at a more subdued pace, but he was just as excited as the rest of them.

The boys’ dormitories were luxurious. The first things Harry noticed as he entered were the six queen-sized, four-poster beds with thick green curtains hanging off them and the wall at the back of the room. As the boys around him fought over beds, Harry took in the glass wall that separated the dorm from what must have been the lake they travelled over an hour or so ago. As he watched, he saw lake creatures of all sizes dart around, too fast to identify. He swore he saw a human for a second, but then it was gone and all he could see was a large tail disappearing around the corner.

“Harry, hurry up and get over here!” Draco called, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

The blond had saved him the bed next to him. It was one of the closest to the only fireplace in the room and it was near the breath-taking window. Harry smiled gratefully as he rushed over to flop onto it before Blaise – who had been eyeing it off – or anyone else could take it.

He shot an apologetic look at Zabini. The boy just grumbled under his breath and stalked over to one of the other beds. Blaise was the last one to drag his trunk out of the pile of their belongings that had been brought up and to his new bed.

There were three beds on each side of the room: three against the glass wall and three on the side they had entered through. Draco and Theo, on each side respectively, were the closest to the fireplace. Next to Draco was Harry, then Blaise, and next to Theo was Crabbe, then Goyle. The two latter were already asleep and snoring rather loudly. Harry almost pitied Nott, but then he got too swept up in the conversation happening around him to care.

“Which subject are you looking forward to the most?” Draco asked the dorm. “Personally, I reckon Potions will be the best!”

Theodore laughed. “You’ve only told us that about a thousand times! Charms will be the most useful, though I suppose they won’t start teaching us the interesting stuff until next year at least.”

“Defence Against the Dark Arts sounds fun,” Harry put in.

“Finally, someone who knows what he’s talking about!” Blaise agreed. “I can’t wait to learn about hexes and jinxes!”

The boys chatted merrily. Soon the topic steered back to families and Harry found he couldn’t say anything of use. Instead, he just listened.

“I feel sorry for Millicent and Tracey,” Draco said absentmindedly. “They don’t know anyone!”

“Why is that?” Harry asked. His assumption from earlier was right.

Theo and Blaise cleared their throats awkwardly. “Potter, you need to know something about the wizarding world,” Nott began.

“Shut up!” Draco glared at the boy, who held his hands up in mock-surrender.

“Look, Malfoy, someone’s got to tell him, and it’s obvious you’re not,” he reasoned.

“Fine,” Draco huffed. He sat back on his bed and folded his arms, turning his glare to the floor.

“As I was saying, there’s something you need to know about the wizarding world and how it works. Specifically, families. All wizarding families, like the Malfoys, Parkinsons, Notts, Crabbes, Goyles – essentially every Slytherin in our year aside from you, Davis and Bulstrode – are what we call ‘purebloods’. The Potters used to be a pureblood family, until your dad married your mum, who was a muggleborn. Muggleborns are magical children born in muggle families, by the way,” he added, seeing Harry’s scrunched up face.

“Anyway, since your dad didn’t marry another pureblood, that makes you a halfblood. Purebloods who have children with halfbloods, muggleborns or muggles mean that their children are halfbloods. Halfbloods who have children with other halfbloods, muggleborns or muggles make their children halfblood. Basically, if it’s not a person with two pureblood parents, or if they’re not a muggleborn, they’re halfblood,” Theodore explained.

Harry turned this information around in his mind. It was quite a lot to take in.

“And what exactly are blood traitors? Draco said something about –“

“He did, did he?” Theo shot Draco a glare.

“I didn’t mean – look, I was being stupid,” the boy in question rushed to explain. “When Harry and I first met, I mistook him for a Weasley and said some unpleasant things, and-“

“Draco, Theo, don’t worry about it. Draco might have been a right prat at first, but he apologised,” Harry cut in. Draco reached over the divide between their two beds to shove Harry playfully.

“To answer your question, Potter, ‘blood traitor’ is a term used by some pureblood families to describe other pureblood families that associate with muggles, or don’t follow the traditional pureblood ways,” Blaise explained quietly.

From the way everyone was looking at the floor, Harry wondered if that meant their families believed in that kind of thing. It seemed rather stupid to Harry – family wasn’t something you could change, so why care about it?

It was a while until conversation picked up again. Theo, Blaise and Draco avoided the subject of families. Harry was all too happy to do the same.

Soon, the boys fell asleep one by one, until it was only Harry who was left awake, mulling over everything that had happened in his mind.

In one day he had panicked over being left at a train station in London, met the Weasleys, ran at a wall with his trolley, found himself on Platform 9 and Three-Quarters, got onto the Hogwarts Express, became friends with Ron, met Hermione, Neville, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, sailed across a lake, entered a castle, conversed with a mind-reading hat, been sorted into Slytherin, been drifted through twice, met the rest of the Slytherins in his year, went into an actual dungeon, came across yet another sliding wall, learnt more about the wizarding world and now here he was, with his bed against a solid glass wall that they had to trust wouldn’t break and flood them with water from the lake outside.

It was a lot to wrap his head around, to say the least. Harry rolled over and stared at the long-diminished fireplace. Three months ago, if you had told Harry Potter that his life was extraordinary, he would have laughed himself into hysterics.

Harry rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, willing for sleep to come. When it finally did, it was to the thought of the promised magical lessons he’d have the next day.