Chapter Two:

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly as he sat at the table for breakfast, stifling a yawn as he reached for a piece of toast from the rack. 

“Send him back.” Ron gumbled from beside him, wearily piling eggs and breakfast potatoes onto his plate, “Beg for him to be re-sorted...something.” 

“If I could, mate…” Harry trailed off, propping his elbow on the table to rest his head, “Believe you me…” 

Having Dudley as a dorm mate was not something Harry had been expecting nor something he was prepared for. For years, it had just been Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean and himself in the room and they were pretty accustomed to each other’s personalities, behaviors and nuances. Bringing Dudley into the mix was like leading a bull into a china shop. 

It was bad enough that Harry and Ron weren’t big Dudley fans from the get-go, as Harry had grown up with his cousin and Ron had heard enough about him and the Dursleys to automatically associate the boy with Harry’s mistreatment. As for the others, Dudley had gone out of his way to be a menace from the start and there was definitely no camaraderie to be felt between the other three Gryffindor third years and their newest peer.

It began when Dudley had a fit because he wanted the “good” bed. Harry wasn’t sure what made the bed Dudley had been eyeing better than the rest, but the bed was Neville’s and had been for years. Dean, Neville, and Seamus had tried to explain that to Dudley and guide him towards the additional bed set up for him, but Dudley had immediately slipped into tantrum mode. 

Harry had heard the shouting from where he’d been talking with Ron and Hermione in the common room and wasted no time intervening. After all, his own possessions were in the room and Dudley wasn’t known to be gentle or discriminatory of other people’s belongings when riled up. 

After dodging blows from his cousin and failing to get the larger boy to listen to an ounce of reason, Harry had pulled out his wand and decided to shut his cousin up the only way he knew how; a vague threat of magic. Honestly, he was surprised that threat had still worked, seeing as how Dudley was capable of using magic and hadn’t seem frightened by it nearly as much as he had in previous years. He supposed Dudley thought Harry may know some spells to actually  hurt him, though, because he immediately quieted down and stopped swinging at Harry’s face. 

Harry had always been friendly with Dean, Seamus and Neville, though he was much closer to Ron than to any of the other boys in the dorm. It was surprising to see that the other three had been quick to back Harry up as soon as Dudley had started throwing muggle punches, and after calming his cousin down, he’d had to stop Dean from taking a few hits at Dudley as well. 

Things had only escalated from there. 

Dudley had nice, new school items; a stark comparison to Harry’s possessions. Sure, Harry had new schoolbooks, parchment, quills, etc. that were necessary for a new school term, but he was wearing robes left over from the previous year and his other clothes were as atrocious as ever. He hadn’t wanted to bring his Aunt Petunia, who had accompanied them to Diagon Alley, anywhere near his vault, so he had to prioritize what to spend his galleons on while shopping. Watching Dudley get fitted for robes had been funny, as Harry was certain Madame Malkin didn’t usually see students quite as large as his cousin, and having Dudley get new items while Harry watched and left empty-handed had seemed to brighten Aunt Petunia’s day as well; she had even gotten him an ice cream cone when they’d stopped for treats later, though that may have been a result of having a professor present. 

The difference between Dudley’s wardrobe and Harry’s had not gone unnoticed by the other Gryffindor boys, who had always just assumed that Harry’s relatives were poor and couldn’t afford nice clothing. Seeing Dudley arrive with a trunk full of brand new expensive clothes had quickly told the others that there was more to the story than they’d originally assumed, and they’d been properly offended on Harry’s behalf. 

Dudley had been oblivious to the boys’ hard stares and glares, though he quickly gathered that there was some animosity present when he’d snapped his fingers and told Harry to unpack his things (as he would have at home, if he was willing to have his items touched by such freakish hands) and was met with a bat bogey hex that would have made Ginny Weasley proud. 

Dudley had not been prepared to have magic used on him again, or perhaps he was having flashbacks to the pig tail he’d received a few years prior, because he immediately started wailing like a toddler and panicking so terribly that a fourth year in the corridor had fetched McGonagall because he thought something terrible was happening in the fifth year dorm. 

McGonagall had not been pleased. 

The other boys didn’t think it was fair - Dudley had been making a right mess of things since the moment they’d entered the dorm between his tantrum over the bed, muggle-style brawling, and a generally unpleasant personality. She had launched into a stern lecture over welcoming new students with respect and dignity, had accused the boys of being shameful Gryffindor students, and then sent Seamus to find Filch for detention, ignoring the fact that it was curfew and the first night of school. 

Harry supposed that if it had been anyone other than Dudley, who had been making his life miserable for 12 years now, he would have felt sympathetic towards the new kid and guilty at McGonagall’s lecture, but he was having a hard time drumming up that sort of emotion at the moment, all things considered. 

Dean had been furious that they were being penalized and Seamus had gotten detention, and proceeded to launch into a passionate defense of his friend. All in all, McGonagall didn’t seem to care that Dudley had been throwing punches (“It’s his first night in a new school, and you four were ganging up on him, after all”) or that he’d started all of the chaos to begin with (“you should be leading by example, not engaging in fighting - Harry, especially you. Is this any way to treat your family?”). 

By the time McGonagall had left, Dean and Harry were even angrier than when she’d arrived, Neville was on the verge of tears from frustration, and Dudley was wearing a smug smirk that Harry had grown to loathe over the years. 

Ron had come up shortly after, asking the group, “What was McGonagall doing here? Why’d Seamus leave?” 

Just like a match to a jug of petrol, the argument was ignited once more. 

By the time tempers had settled down and peace had been restored to the dormitory, Dudley had been trip jinxed, then silenced so he wouldn’t start wailing again, the room was in complete disarray, Harry had a busted lip and a bruised cheek - one from Dudley’s fist, the other from hitting a desk as he was pushed over, Neville had learned thirteen new swears from Ron, and Dean had made an oath to go to the library and learn a whole host of new jinxes and hexes to use on their newest Gryffindor should he ever dare to speak to them again. 

Harry had been unable to sleep, just waiting on Dudley to retaliate when he least expected it. Merlin knows Dudley had launched surprise attacks on him in the middle of the night before. He wasn’t going to be humiliated in front of his friends when Dudley inevitably snapped back into his Privet Drive habits, whether he wanted to call it ‘sibling rivalry’ or bullying, and had created an in-depth mental plan to prepare himself; after all, he was allowed to use magic here, and his skills were far superior to Dudley’s, who had only learned the basics so far. 

Ron had stayed awake as well, waiting to see if he’d need to back up his best friend. Harry hadn’t asked him to, but Ron had a vague idea of what happened within the Dursley’s home every summer, and wasn’t about to let the portly boy get the drop on the smaller boy. Both he and Harry had finally fallen asleep somewhere near dawn, which meant that they were in for a miserable, exhausted first day of classes. 

To top it off, the dorm had been awoken terribly early by Dudley panicking. 

It would have been funny if Harry hadn’t been so tired. 

“That - that thing! It’s going to kill me!” Dudley shrieked, pushing himself as close to the head of the bed as he could, “Someone help me!”

Harry had opened his eyes by the hardest at the commotion, spotting the house elf that Dudley seemed to be worrying over. “Shut up, Dudley - it’s just a house elf. It’s not going to hurt you.” 

“But it - it was looking at me. I think it was going to try to, ya’know, touch me or something.” 

The house elf apparently got the gist of what Dudley was implying, because it immediately started to bang its head against the wall, wailing that it would never do such a thing and how awful it must be for Dudley to think such a terrible thought of it. 

That was enough to wake up the entire dorm, and it took Neville, Harry and Dean to calm down the elf enough for it to continue whatever task it had been working on when Dudley had spotted it. Harry had been surprised - he didn’t realize the elves were sometimes in the room while they slept, though he wasn’t nearly as creeped out by the idea as his cousin was. 

The disruption resulted in all six Gryffindor boys arriving at breakfast earlier, and with a more sour disposition than usual.

Dudley had trudged behind the other boys, seemingly put out that he was not able to lie in after such an eventual awakening, but also aware that if he didn’t follow the group to the Great Hall, he may never find it in time to eat. By the time he finally decided to sit down across from Ron and Harry, the other two had already started to serve themselves. 

Ron scowled as Dudley appeared, and many years of schooling his features for his relatives was the only thing keeping Harry from doing the same. Both boys watched in disgust as Dudley loaded up his plate and then started eating with gusto, bits of food falling into his clothing and table as he heartily dug in. 

Harry made a face, pushing his plate away as his own meager appetite turned off at the sight; after being served such tiny portions at the Dursleys throughout the summers, he often started the term with a poor appetite that slowly improved. 

“Are you even chewing it along the way?” Ron asked with disdain, which was really remarkable as it was Ron, of all people, criticizing how Dudley was inhaling his food. Like Harry, Ron pushed his plate back, appetite vanished. Seeing his mates looking towards him with surprised expressions, he rolled his eyes and added, “Stop taking the piss, yeah?”

“Is it really you, mate?” Seamus teased, reaching out to touch Ron’s forehead, “Are you ill?” 

“Shut up.” Ron grumbled good-naturedly at the ribbing by his friends, “I’ve got to draw the line somewhere, no?”

“What are you on about?” Dudley asked, mouth full and oblivious to what was happening around him. 

Harry shook his head dismissively, yawning once more. He was so incredibly tired, and he knew it would just get worse as the day progressed. What an awful way to begin the school year. 

He must have dozed off for a moment, because the next thing he knew the table was bustling with more students, and Hermione’s voice could be heard talking about timetables and scolding Seamus for losing them points on the very first night. 

“She took points, too?” Dean groused, “Giving out detention wasn’t enough?”

“She needs a good cheering charm to start the year off.” Seamus agreed, and Harry didn’t have to be looking to feel the glare the boys were sending towards their head of house. 

Hermione reached across Ron to hand a bleary-eyed Harry a piece of parchment, “Busy schedule today, boys, try to act alive.”

“Stop channeling my Mum, Hermione, it’s disturbing.” Ron mumbled, and Harry noticed he’d returned to eating his eggs and potatoes while he’d been dozing. 

“Potions first thing? What did we do to deserve that sort of punishment?” 

“Honestly, Harry, none of our classes are meant to be punishment.” Hermione scoffed, “And at least you get a free period this afternoon; some of us have classes all day long.”

“Your schedule is different than ours?” Ron asked, snatching Hermione’s timetable and looking over it with a frown, “You need to talk to McGonagall, yours isn’t right - look, you have classes that overlap.”

Ron handed the paper to Harry, who looked at the schedule with wide eyes, “Merlin’s beard! How many classes are you taking, ‘Mione?” 

“A fair bit, obviously.” Hermione retorted, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice as Harry forced himself to move from his position draped over the table to sitting in correct form, “Did you boys get dressed in the dark this morning?” 

A flick of the wand, and both Harry and Ron’s shirts were tucked in and their ties straightened. She looked at the two approvingly, then continued, “Honestly, it’s not a hard spell - if you aren’t going to do it the proper way, at least learn the spell. No one will ever take you seriously if you look like you rolled out of bed just before going to class.”

“No one will think we’ve just rolled from bed.” Ron countered, motioning towards the staff table, “They all saw us here at breakfast, clearly not in bed.” 

“Your friend is really bossy.” Dudley piped up, finally finished with his breakfast and watching the exchange opposite him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. 

The look Ron shot Dudley was venomous and he replied icily, “Don’t talk about Hermione like that. Don’t talk about Hermione at all.”  Ron pushed away from the table, nodding to the doors, “Come on Harry, Hermione - let’s head to class. If this lug gets lost on the way to the dungeons, better for all of us anyway.” 

Ron stormed off in a huff, clearly offended on Hermione’s behalf, and the two hurried to catch up. Harry was confused at Ron’s hostility; they called Hermione bossy all the time both to her face and in conversation alone and had been for years now. 

“I wish you wouldn’t storm off like that, I was still eating you know.” Hermione chided lightly as they walked to the dungeons. They were incredibly early for class, but at least they were alone.

“Sorry, Hermione.” Ron’s cheeks were lightly pink with embarrassment over his outburst and being called out for it. “I just didn’t want to get into it with him again.” 

“Understandable.” Hermione conceded, “So was it that terrible having him in your dorm? Is that why you guys are all moody today? Oh my goodness, Harry, what happened to your lip?”

Harry brought a hand to gently touch his split lip, cringing slightly as the contact stung, “Dudley happened. He is that terrible.”

“He hit you?!” Hermione gasped, “Did you tell Professor McGonagall? Is that why she was up in your dormitory last night?” 

“No, I didn’t grass on him.” Harry sighed, “It doesn’t matter, anyway. This is just what Dudley does.”

“It does matter.” Hermione insisted, “Look, Harry, you may not be able to do anything about it when he’s bullying you at your aunt and uncle’s house, but you can do something about it here.”

“So the whole school can gossip about how I went crying to teachers about how mean Dudley was to me? No thanks.” 

“Someone’s going to notice your face and ask questions. What are you going to do then? Lie about it?” Hermione continued, “If you don’t stand up to him, he’ll never stop. That’s how bullies operate.” 

“Standing up to him does no good, Hermione. Just leave it.” Harry firmly told his friend, “Please, Hermione, just drop it.”

“I’ll let it go for now, but if he continues to use you as his punching bag, I’m going to turn him in.” Hermione replied, equally firm in her tone. There was no doubt that she meant every word of it. 

They sat in the hallway in silence, not needing to fill the time with words, and slowly other students began to trickle in. 

Nearly all of the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins had appeared when Ron swore quietly, whispering to his friends, “I forgot my essay in the dorms. Snape’s going to kill me.” 

“Let’s go get it, then.” Harry replied, standing and brushing the dirt from his robes, “Quickly, before Snape shows up.” 

“You don’t have time.” Hermione interjected, just as Ron spoke, “I don’t think we have time, mate.” 

Casting a quick glance at his watch, Harry realized they likely did not have time. Still, better to lose a few points for tardiness than to start the year off with a failing grade and be ridiculed in front of the class, right? He nodded his head towards the stairwell, “We’ll have time if we run. Let’s go. Hermione, save us a seat, yeah?”

Before Hermione could agree or warn them to stay, the boys had taken off at a run down the hallway, nearly bowling over Parkinson and Greengrass in their attempt to break speed records and making it back to class on time. 

“Watch it, Potter!” Parkinson snapped, reaching over to push Greengrass’s wand down when she pointed it at the two retreating boys, “Not with witnesses, Daphne.”

They made it to Gryffindor Tower quicker than expected, and both boys panted heavily, trying to catch their breath enough to spit out the password. After a few moments, Harry gasped, “Fortuna...Major…” and the portrait door opened. 

Exhausted from their trek across the castle and their sleepless night, they ascended the corridor to the dorms a bit slower than they had been running, and Ron began to rummage through his trunk, finally pulling out a crumpled parchment, “Got it!”

Harry had used the time he had while waiting to charm the screws on Dudley’s bed loose so it would collapse when he sat upon it later. 

Ron looked at the time in dismay, “Mate, we’ve got three minutes before class begins. Snape’s going to kill us.” 

“Race you!” Harry called, taking off quickly and throwing his friend a grin over his shoulder as the two barrelled out of the dorm and back towards the exit. 

They’d made it halfway down the corridor when they ran, quite literally, into the new Defence professor. Both boys and Professor Lupin both tumbled to the ground, and Harry and Ron looked at each other in dismay; there was no way they’d ever get to class on time now. 

“In quite the hurry, boys.” Lupin said good naturedly, standing and holding a hand out to Harry to pull him to his feet, then Ron, “If I remember correctly, you’re meant to be in potions now, yeah?” 

“Ron forgot his essay, we were just going back for it. Sorry, we didn’t mean to run into you, we were just trying to get to class before Snape decided to take all of our points for the next month.” Harry apologized, “Are you alright, sir?”

Lupin waved off Harry’s concern, “No worries, I can understand not wanting to be on Professor Snape’s bad side.” He emphasized the word Professor as a correction, and Harry was pleased that it was done nicely and not as an admonishment like he so often heard from others. 

“It doesn’t matter now, though.” Ron said as the clock chimed, “We’re late and he’s going to chop us up for potions ingredients.” 

“I’m fairly certain that pickling students is still against the school’s charter.” Lupin replied lightly, “I can write you two a note to let Severus know you were with me and we lost track of time. That should smooth the situation over so you can start the academic year off on a good foot.”

“You’d do that for us?” Harry asked, surprised and pleased, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Yeah, thanks!” Ron chimed in, relief washing over his features, “You’re the best.” 

Lupin handed them a slip of paper, then smiled and patted the two on the back as he nudged them towards the stairs, “I’d best be getting to my class, as well. You two slow down and be safe; I’d hate to hear that you were running down the stairs and fell through a trick stair to your death.”

“I bet Snape would love that, though.” Harry muttered to Ron as they descended the staircase. 

They made it to the potions classroom less than five minutes after class had started, note in hand, but Snape did not seem to care at all that they’d been with another professor. 

“Did you forget the layout of the castle and get lost?” Snape sneered as they opened the door, “It’s quite hard to lose the dungeons, you simply go down as far as you can go.” 

“We were speaking with Professor Lupin.” Harry replied, holding out the excuse for Snape to take, “Sorry we’re late, sir.”

“I find that incredibly hard to believe, since Miss Parkinson and Miss Greengrass claim that you left the dungeons right before class began. What? Did you get caught trying to skive off and then con a professor into giving you a note?”

“No, not at all. I forgot my essay, and we ran into Lupin--”

“Spare me your excuses, Weasley.” Snape took the essay from Ron, then laid it on a workbench in front of the class and pointed his wand at it, “Incendio.”

“What!? No!” Ron protested, though it was too late as the parchment lit and quickly burned, “My essay…” 

“Your essay, Mr. Weasley, was late. Late work is an automatic zero. For your tardiness, I believe twenty points each from Gryffindor will do.”

The boys looked like they wanted to protest, but thought better of it and moved to an empty workbench, shoulders sagging heavily. Both flinched when Snape added icily, “And detention, 7:00.” 

“Evil git.” Ron muttered as they took out their supplies, “We had a note and everything!”

“Silence!” Snape demanded, “Before we were so rudely interrupted, we were discussing our potion for the day. Can anyone tell me why we add lavender oil before crushed fly larvae?” 

Hermione’s hand shot into the air, but as usual, Snape ignored her and instead called on Malfoy, who did not have his hand raised but clearly knew the answer judging by his arrogant, bored expression. 

As Snape continued the lecture, Ron began to complain quietly again, “And burning my homework like that...I worked on that all summer!”

At Harry’s incredulous look, Ron shrugged and amended, “Okay, like two hours, but still…”

“If it weren’t for being late, he’d just find some other reason. He hates me, and he hates you for being associated with me.” Harry replied quietly, trying to find the potion recipe in his book, “Do you know what page we’re on?”

“SILENCE!” Snape bellowed, approaching the boys with a furious gleam in his eyes, “Since Potter and Weasley think they’re too good for instruction and would rather socialize than pay attention, I believe we will use their potion for an example today. Once everyone is finished with that potions, we will allow one of them to sample theirs to test for efficiency.”

“But sir, I was just asking what page number--”

“When I want a verbal response, I will let you know,” Snape spat out, “Even someone as thick as you are can understand what the word ‘silence’ means, Potter.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but at Snape’s glare he shut it again, frowning deeply. This class was going terribly, even by Potions-class-standards.

“Sir, isn’t this potion lethal if brewed incorrectly?” Nott asked with a smug grin, glancing towards the two troublesome Gryffindors with amusement. 

“Indeed.”

“You can’t make students try potentially lethal potions.” Dudley spoke up from beside Neville. 

Snape raised an eyebrow, then added as an afterthought, “In an effort to be fair, I will also have Longbottom and Dursley test their potion. Your homework will be to compare and contrast the two attempts and the effects of incompetence in brewing this particular potion. You may begin.” 

Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror. They had no idea what potion they were even supposed to be making, much less which ingredients they’d need and where to even begin. Snape was glaring at them, as if daring them to ask someone so he could take more points and assign more detentions to the pair. 

“Come on, mate, let’s just get what everyone else is and see if we can’t figure out what we’re supposed to be doing based off of the ingredients.” Harry told Ron, filing in line behind Crabbe and Goyle. 

“It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” Ron agreed, trying to glimpse at page numbers on the other students’ books as he walked by, with little success. 

They were pleased to see their books were opened to the right page when they returned to their work station, and Harry grinned at Hermione, who had turned and winked at them. He would need to do something to show his appreciation to her; at least they had a chance now that they knew what they were brewing. 

A very, very small chance. 

“This looks really complex.” Ron complained, looking through the steps involved, “There’s three pages of instructions.” 

“Three pages?” Harry asked incredulously, flipping through his own book, “Oh Merlin, there’s no way we’ll make it through a potion this complex without mucking it up.” 

“We’re pants at potions.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” 

“Less talking, more brewing.” Snape said pointedly from the other side of the classroom. 

Forty minutes later, Ron and Harry were bottling what they could only hope was a correct potion. 

“It was nice knowing you, you’ve been a true friend.” Ron murmured, looking at their pathetic attempt at brewing and remembering what Nott said about a botched potion being lethal. 

Harry looked as grim as Ron sounded. A glance around the room showed that theirs was the only potion that was grey, everyone else’s was blue or green. Even Neville and Dudley’s potion resembled the rest of the class’s, though Harry wasn’t convinced that it was done correctly either knowing Neville’s history with potions and Dudley’s incompetence in general. 

“Maybe we ‘accidentally’ drop the vial on our way to turn it in? I’d rather a zero than death.” Harry suggested, vanishing the remainder of their potion just in case they decided to sabotage their grade, so Snape couldn’t simply instruct them to get another vial.

“He’ll never buy it, mate.”

“But can he prove we did it on purpose?”

“The youngest seeker in a century, clumsy? He won’t buy it.”

“Then you drop it.”

Ron’s response was cut off by Snape’s voice, “It looks as if our test subject is finished with their potion. Come forward Weasley, Potter.” 

“Do it.” Harry hissed as they hesitantly made their way to the front of the room. 

As they crossed the room, Ron let the vial slip out of his hand, but before it could hit the floor and crack, a hand reached out to catch it. Dudley. 

“Careful, Weasley.” Dudley said quietly, refusing to meet Harry or Ron’s gaze. It was hard for either boy to determine if Dudley was being genuinely nice or if he just wanted to see them tormented by Snape in front of everyone. 

Snape’s grin sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He knew the potion was crap, and he knew Snape knew it, too. Was he really going to make them sample it? 

The professor took an empty vial and poured half of the boys’ work into it, then handed them each their sample, “Go ahead, drink up.” He turned his attention to the rest of the class, “Class, take notes for your homework.”

Green eyes met blue and the two friends nodded and tipped the vials back, hoping for the best but bracing themselves for the worst.