Harry was beginning to become used to slipping outside before anyone else was awake; it was his summer, he supposed, still dictating his schedule. He made for his broom; then, on second thought, he took two Potions texts instead, figuring that he would double-check his assumptions about what had happened the night before.

Still, instinct had him heading towards the Quidditch pitch. There was enough light to read by, and the stands would allow him to have some peace and quiet in the precious moments before the rest of the school stirred from sleep.

Harry’s coveted moment of solitude was, however, not to be. A small figure was hunched behind the stands with its arms thrown about its knees. Harry was about to turn around when a stray ray of sunlight illuminated bright red hair, and he realized that, whomever it was, it was probably a friend of his.

Rae Thomas sniffled up at him, displaying a tear-stained face and bleary green eyes. “Harry!” she whispered urgently. Then her features scrunched up, more tears welling, and she doubled over again to bawl into her robes.

“Oh, Rae,” Harry said stupidly, sitting next to her. He’d never had a little sister, so he wasn’t certain what to do. Ron would probably know whether he ought to tease her or hug her. Luckily, Rae took it out of his hands by leaning against him and gaining a handful of his own dark robes. Harry awkwardly raised his arm and she ducked under it, curling her smaller body around his; she was radiating the heat only a child crying could manage, and Harry almost immediately felt uncomfortably sweaty.

For a good five more minutes, she sobbed, but then she began to slow down, the tears breaking into occasional hiccoughs. Finally, she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“All right?” he inquired, smoothing her damp bangs out of her eyes.

She nodded resolutely and sat up. “’M sorry, you’re all wet, now,” she observed.

Harry looked down at the two large circles on his robes that were indubitably from each of Rae’s eyes, and smiled. “What’s the matter?”

“Is... is it true about... the scar?”

Harry hadn’t thought Rae was crying over his childhood, so this seemed a bit of an odd question. “Er... yeah.”

“Voldemort – he killed your parents, and almost killed you?”

Harry nodded solemnly. “That’s right.”

“Mine too,” Rae said.

He felt himself freeze. “Rae...?”

“And my little sister Maggie, and even the dog,” she said. “You’d think they might’ve left the dog...” She played absently with the grass, allowing it to run between her fingers.

“Why?” Harry said.

She looked up at him, dry-eyed, now. “Well, no one knows, really. He doesn’t like Muggles. Professor McGonagall said... maybe... for ‘sport’.”

“I’ll kill her,” Harry said, and at the moment, he meant it.

“Oh, no, it was a relief,” she said, wide-eyed with the effort to convince him. “Really, it was. He wasn’t after me, not like he’s after you. It’s how I discovered my magic,” she added in a small voice. “I saw... and ran... and before I knew it, I was far away, far, far away, where he couldn’t reach me.”

“You Apparated?”

Rae nodded. “Yes, but I’m not sure I could do it again. It was an emergency,” she tacked on needlessly, scrubbing at her cheeks. “I’m sorry for crying all over you.”

Harry shook his head, remembering what Professor Snape had said. “It’s fine to cry, especially over something like that. I’m lucky; I don’t really recall my parents.” This had never struck him as lucky before. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up, okay?”

She nodded desolately, and they stood, Harry pulling her to her feet. “I hear you and Lilac and Ewan had a fight...”

Rae nodded. “Sort of. They wanted to start a Muggle-born club, and I didn’t want to join.”

“A club?” Harry laughed, picturing Ewan as the head of such an organization. “I suppose I can see that.”

“It’s stupid, though. I’m not – I’m not all that good at convincing people of things. But I knew it’s stupid all the same.” She frowned in anxiety. “Didn’t they listen to what the Hat said? And Hermione?”

Harry didn’t quite follow, but he opened the door, allowing Rae to slide in ahead of him. “The Hat and Hermione were talking about Houses,” he said.

“No, about... oh...!” Rae was distracted by a group of approaching first-years. “No, I can’t go to the ladies’ here,” she said. “Everyone’ll know...”

Harry grinned. “I know just the place,” he said.

“Oi!” Harry said as he peered through the door. “Myrtle?”When he didn’t hear anything, he ushered Rae in ahead of him, then slipped inside himself, and closed the door. 

“Who’s Myrtle?” Rae demanded. “Why are you coming in the girls’ room?”

Harry grinned. “Myrtle’s one of the ghosts in the castle, and this bathroom’s been abandoned because she lives here.”

“She isn’t... dangerous, is she?”

“Er... no. Annoying, sometimes, maybe...”

Harry supposed Rae wasn’t a Parseltongue, so she could never open the passageway that ran through Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom; he certainly seemed to be the only one of his generation. Besides, he doubted that the third-floor girls’ room really led to anything dastardly, these days. Just yet another secret passage, now partially caved in... Although Harry had to wonder what it had been before Tom Riddle came along. He doubted that any sixth-year, no matter how extraordinary, could manage to hollow out an entire catacomb of caverns below Hogwarts undetected. It had to have been for something, at one time... an escape route, perhaps?

Probably, the real entrance, in that case, was not in the girls’ toilets, Harry realized with a small smirk. Besides, it was obvious that Riddle had fashioned the entrance, himself, as it only responded to Parseltongue. Perhaps he could discover the original entrance using the Marauder’s Map? Of course, now that he no longer had the Cloak...

Rae finished splashing her face and turned to gaze up at him. “All right?” she inquired, lifting her chin for inspection.

“They’ll never know,” he assured her. Rae nodded resolutely and moved to the door, but Harry stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Look, if you’d ever like to talk about it some more, that’s fine by me. Don’t cry alone, though, it’s never any good.”

Rae eyed him anxiously before jerking a small nod. “Okay, Harry.”

When Harry entered the Great Hall, he moved automatically to Slytherin, despite the fact that Draco wasn’t awake yet. He settled himself in and began eating, heedless of the motions of those around him until Yolande set herself down at his right.“Hey, Harry,” she greeted with a smile. “All right? Listen, I hear Draco’s taken something of yours,” she said conversationally. “Something important.” 

Harry stiffened. “Yeah. And?”

“And I can get it back for you,” she replied with a sweet smile.

“That’s no use. He’ll figure I’ve gotten it back, and ask for it again; and then he’ll order me to never again remove anything from his room, or something similar.”

Yolande smiled. “I’ll get it back for you once your punishment is over, deliver it into your hands. I know where he’s hidden it.”

Harry blinked. “And? Where’s the catch?”

“No catch, Harry, just a deal. One: you let me make you a multi-House badge, and you wear it. Two: you put in a good word for me. That’s simple, isn’t it?”

“Put in a good word for you?”

“Oi, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she said impatiently. “Well?”

Harry paused, considering. He knew Hermione liked Ron; it certainly couldn’t hurt to say something kind about the blonde-haired girl, since it would do nothing. However, it went a bit against his grain to plot anything concerning Hermione. Besides all that, he could get a huge amount of flak from his House over the badge. “Let me think about it.”

She shrugged, giving all signs of being unconcerned, and turned to pick once more at her eggs.

Harry finished his, clearing the plate automatically before glancing around. “Where’s Malfoy?” he wondered aloud.

Yolande shrugged, standing and gathering her books. “Haven’t seen him. Best ask those two.”

Harry gazed across the table at Crabbe and Goyle, who were glaring at him. Or, rather, Goyle was glaring; Crabbe was looking slightly amused. “Hey; er, d’you know where Malfoy is?” he inquired.

Goyle opened his mouth, but Crabbe elbowed him. Both shook their heads.

Harry shrugged, then stood, brushing a bit of food off of the front of his robes, before striding off to Potions.

Harry was early, so he set up his and Draco’s cauldrons side-by-side long before any of the other students had arrived. Oddly, Professor Snape was early as well, for all he normally strode in dramatically once everyone was seated. When Snape entered his classroom to find Harry already there, he paused, as though taken aback.Harry was surprised to realize that the man’s cheeks had tinged a pale pink. Uh oh, he thought, he’s really embarrassed... this does not bode well...

He kept especially quiet, his actions measured, not even daring to make any sudden moves; when Hermione came in, Yolande trailing behind, Harry couldn’t help but grin at them both in sudden relief.

Hermione waved, her gaze flicking over to the already-present professor and back. “All right, Harry? We missed you at breakfast. Ron kept muttering that Malfoy wasn’t there, so he had no right to make you sit at Slytherin.”

Harry shrugged. “I had Yolande there, anyway,” Harry replied, “so it wasn’t all bad.” He shrugged at the blonde-haired girl apologetically.

“I just don’t get why so many Slytherins follow him around – sorry, Yolande,” Hermione tacked on, calming slightly.

“Oi, everyone knows Malfoy’s a useless prat,” Yolande admitted, keeping her voice low because of the professor’s presence. “But there are so few of us in Slytherin willing to admit it. His father’s got so much money and power right now that most of us are prepared to lick his boots, though Malfoy’ll soon be little more than a name, anymore. It already doesn’t open the doors it used to.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

Yolande half-turned to face him. “Well, his family did the right thing, claiming to be bewitched just after -” She paused, sighing. “Er, You-Know-Who died. They lost very little credibility on the surface.” At Harry’s blank look, she elaborated. “You know, the Malfoys moved so quickly that people could at least fool themselves into imagining that the family really had been enchanted – especially those who accepted bribes in order to ease their passage through all of those irritating legalities. It’s... how do you call it...? A ‘polite fiction’.”

Harry seated himself, facing the other girl. “Well, yeah. Everyone knows about Lucius Malfoy.”

“But nobody says,” Hermione added. “That lends a veneer of credibility to the Malfoy name.”

“But now,” Yolande went on, “Lucius Malfoy has made the mistake of siding with Him again. This time, the claim of bewitchment shall be a bit harder to swallow.” Her chin lifted slightly. “Quite impossible to swallow, actually. All of the money in the world won’t help them now. The Malfoys are living on borrowed time.”

“What I don’t understand is why he would do it, then,” Hermione said helplessly, furrowing her brow. “It really doesn’t make any sense, does it? Why do such a foolish thing? I may not like the Malfoys, but I don’t consider any of them stupid.”

Yolande turned to smile at Hermione rather fondly. “That’s only because you’re so good, Hermione. What’s the only reason anyone would embark on such a foolhardy venture?”

Harry answered her, seeing Draco’s grey eyes light with fanatical enthusiasm. “They really believe in it, don’t they?”

Yolande nodded. “Honest-to-goodness zealotry,” she confirmed. “Muggle-hating, money-and-power-hungry zealotry. Can’t see they’re the last of a dying breed; it’s literally unthinkable for them. All of them: Nott, and Crabbe and Goyle and maybe even my stupid cousin’s mum and dad.”

Harry nodded, leaning back in his seat with something like shock. Sure, he had known that not all Slytherins were Death Eaters, but this actual evidence was off-putting nonetheless. Of course, there were nearly a hundred students in Slytherin; they couldn’t have all been Death Eaters, or even sympathizers. And he hadn’t really supposed anyone could like Hermione who was a Muggle-hater... but it all seemed so odd.

But he didn’t have time enough to think of much more than that, because the lesson was beginning; Snape made a few more scratches on a notepad in front of him and stood, addressing the class.

“Mister Potter, where is Mister Malfoy?”

Harry shrugged, thinking that the blond-haired Slytherin had probably gone to find somewhere even more secret to hide the invisibility cloak. “Sorry, sir. Don’t know.”

Snape frowned. “All right. Let’s begin, then.”

What followed was probably the most pleasant Potions lesson Harry had ever had. Without Draco’s work to do, he found himself staying alongside his professor’s instructions without any great difficulty, and held his hand up to answer questions nearly as often as Hermione. He’d read Chapter Two of Advanced Potion-Making twice, making small notes in the margins the first time, although it had all seemed rather familiar already.

As Harry was gathering his things to head to Charms, Snape looked up at him with an odd expression. “I wonder, Potter, if you’ve ever found out what would happen if you added asphodel to an infusion of wormwood.”

Harry couldn’t help it – he laughed, startled into amusement. “You said it was an antidote for most poisons – I haven’t forgotten, or anything.”

Snape nodded, and went back to collecting his own materials.

Harry was nearly out the door when he paused, and turned. “Hey, though, they’d sure make an excellent drink, wouldn’t they? Absinthe from the wormwood, if you used an alcoholic extraction instead of an infusion, and from Arabian asphodel, that liqueur...” He shook his head. “Don’t remember what it’s called, but I read about it in some Muggle book or other.”

“It’s called Komante,” Snape replied, folding his arms across his chest. “Tell me, Mister Potter; have you decided on a topic for your term paper, as of yet?”

Harry grinned, nodding. “Yeah, I decided before I even arrived; listen, it’s going to be great. Now, don’t interrupt ‘til I’m done, because the thesis is a little... well, it’s unconventional.”

Snape gestured expansively with one arm, as if to say that Harry had the floor.

“I’m going to take a bunch of Muggle Botany books and a bunch of Potions texts, and compare the plants in them and make a project of how often their uses coincide. I’ve already talked to Hermione; she says she can help me a bit with the Arithmancy to decide whether the results are significant. And if they are... well, that’s where the real difficulty starts. Did Muggles discover the answers independently, because if they did, aren’t they using magic somehow? And if they’re not, then Potions isn’t really magic, see, it’s Chemistry...” He paused at the thunderous expression on Snape’s face. “Heh,” he laughed nervously, “I knew you wouldn’t like it much, but even you called Potions a science, didn’t you, the very first day...”

Professor Snape gazed in that way he had, as though he were examining Harry’s very bones, before breaking off with a small shudder.

“Professor?”

Snape was examining him minutely, as though viewing him for the very first time. “Get to class, Harry.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with that thesis?” Harry inquired, not liking the expression on his professor’s face.

“We shall see. For now – do as I say, and go.”