Two Households, Both Alike in Dignity

7/28/2019 Two Households, Both Alike in Dignity

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Copyright Page

This book was automatically created by FLAG on July 14th, 2013, based on

content retrieved from http://archiveofourown.org/works/205899.

The content in this book is copyrighted by mad_martha or their authorisedagent(s). All rights are reserved except where explicitly stated otherwise.

This story was first published on May 30th, 2011, and was last updated on May

30th, 2011.

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Summary

That very first day on the Hogwarts Express, Harry shook Draco Malfoy's handand became a Slytherin. Ron has hated him ever since. But Harry doesn't hate Ron

...

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One Regret

If Harry Potter could have risked admitting to one overriding regret since he'dcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (and admitting to regrets was

something you didn't do if you were a Slytherin), it was that he'd shaken DracoMalfoy's hand on the Hogwarts Express that first day. Had he known then what itwould lead to ....

Well, it certainly hadn't led to undying friendship with Malfoy, but Harry hadended up spending the rest of the journey in his company anyway, as Ron Weasley outraged that Harry could shake the blond boy's hand after the things he'd saidabout the Weasley family had stormed out of the compartment and spent the restof the journey with his brothers further down the train.

It had been an innocent mistake made out of simple politeness, but like other suchmistakes in Harry's life, it had far-reaching consequences.

They hadn't spoken reallyspoken since. It had been five years.

He had been fed up with Malfoy's company by the time they arrived at the school.An attempt to speak to Ron while they waited to file into the Great Hall had been

rudely snubbed in front of all the other first years and, angry at Ron's overreactionand the sniggers of the others, which had reminded him so acutely of his treatmentat his Muggle primary school, Harry had been simmering with resentment by thetime Professor McGonagall put the Sorting Hat onto his head. Having been told byRon on the train that the Weasleys were almost always Gryffindors, he very stupidlytold the Hat that he didn't want to be in any House that contained a Weasley. Forthat one moment of temper, he was to pay for the rest of his school life.

He was sorted into Slytherin.

As a result, it had taken the better part of six months for him to repair the damageto his friendship with Hagrid, and even now he had to watch his step. The adultsaround him seemed to expect certain things of Slytherins, which seemed at oncegrossly unfair to Harry, and then again, when he met most of his new Housemates,perhaps understandable. And once again he found he had no friends of his own age.Slytherins didn't make friends; they formed alliances and changed them whenever itseemed advantageous to do so. Harry had never dreamed that he would have to putall the survival skills he had learned against Cousin Dudley's gang to use here aswell. As The Boy Who Lived he had his own cachet but this was limited compared to

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the power Malfoy could wield as a scion of one of the oldest, wealthiest purebloodfamilies in the wizard world. Pure blood was everything in Slytherin; those with lessthan pure wizard ancestry and Harry was among them on account of his mother had an uphill struggle to survive. Slytherins were only slightly less vicious towardstheir own House than they were towards Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

There were some good things in life, of course. Quidditch was Harry's majorcompensation for having to watch his back every minute of the day and night. Hehad tested out successfully as Seeker in his first year and the Slytherin team andconsequently the whole House had benefited from his prowess. Much to DracoMalfoy's impotent fury; not even his father's attempt to buy the position for him intheir second year had been successful. The team captain, Marcus Flint, and theirHead of House, Professor Snape, were in total accord over this: They wanted to win,and with Harry as Seeker they did win. Malfoy had been forced to be content with

the lesser Chaser's position, although Harry had been made to suffer for that aswell. Sharing a dorm with Malfoy and his thugs, Crabbe and Goyle, was one of themany disadvantages of being a Slytherin.

Harry also had a certain skill in Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, whichhe was quietly very proud of. Others might whisper that his being sorted intoSlytherin and then showing a facility with the Dark Arts was a very bad sign, butHarry was honestly grateful to be good at some things for once. The rest of the timehe kept himself to himself.

But he always regretted the loss of Ron Weasley's friendship.

Once, briefly in the third year, he had thought he might get a second chance. Anotorious criminal called Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban and Harry hadbeen astonished to discover that the man was his godfather, a fact that DracoMalfoy had sardonically congratulated him on. It was only after Black had brokeninto Hogwarts and trapped another man called Pettigrew who, even moreastonishingly, had been hiding in Animagus form as a rat asRon's pet rat Scabbersno less that the truth had come out and Black had been exonerated.

As school years went, Harry tended to view the third year as a pretty bad one.After Sirius's successful retrial, they had been introduced. Although initiallysuccessful, things had inevitably become a little stiff and difficult when his godfatherdiscovered that Harry was a Slytherin. Harry himself had not felt up to explainingwhat had happened; indeed, a part inside him that had inevitably been hardened bylife in Slytherin House had not allowed him to unbend that far. Consequently,

although Harry's relationship with Sirius was reasonable, he couldn't shake thefeeling that his godfather was a little wary of him and that was all it took to make

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Harry wary ofhim, which made life even more difficult as Sirius was also his legalguardian.

And despite his hopes, he had not been able to rewind the clock and start hisfriendship with Ron Weasley again. He had made a point of seeking the boy out afterSirius's trial to try to talk to him about Pettigrew and thank him for his unwitting

part in freeing his godfather. It had been a bad move. Ron had been highly sensitiveabout the part his pet had played in the whole business and, worse, he thoughtHarry was mocking him about it. The encounter had ended in a painful scene.

Harry had not tried again.

This was their sixth year now and Harry was sixteen. In a couple of weeks it wouldbe Ron's seventeenth birthday he knew this because he shared Divination classes

with the Gryffindor boy and he had seen his horoscope. Ron had been born onMarch 1st; he was a Pisces, which seemed odd for someone so fiery tempered andwho obviously lived so much in the here-and-now. Harry had been giving a lot ofthought to these things lately; he was acutely aware that his long-held desire forfriendship with Ron had deepened into something a great deal more serious over thelast year or so.

He wasn't going to get many more chances to try and repair things, and he'dracked his brains to think of a gesture he could make that Ron wouldn't misinterpret

again. Then, watching the Gryffindor table one morning, it had come to him.

The Weasleys were very poor and Ron had no owl of his own like the rest of hisclassmates. In fact, since the loss of Scabbers the rat, Ron had been without a petaltogether. Even Neville Longbottom had a toad of his own. And some things Harryhad overheard once suggested that in spite of the rat turning out to be a massmurderer, Ron rather missed Scabbers. He made light of these things, but ....

Which gave Harry an idea. It wasn't easy, but he did have money Sirius neverquestioned his withdrawals from Gringotts or set limits and he had a contact,Hagrid, who as teacher of Care of Magical Creatures was uniquely capable ofhelping him find the ideal present.

On the morning of the 1st March, Harry was up unusually early. No one saw himenter the Great Hall and carefully place his gift on the Gryffindor table at the spotwhere Ron usually sat. His only concerns were that the occupant of the basket mightmove and wriggle it off the table, or that someone else might get nosy and open it

first. He didn't want the surprise to be spoilt.

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Pride & Prejudice

If Ron Weasley could have squashed his pride enough, he would have admitted toregretting pushing Harry Potter away from him at the beginning of their first year.

Of course, at the time he told himself he'd done the right thing when hecold-shouldered the other boy outside the Great Hall before the Sorting whowanted a friend who could shake hands with a creep like Malfoy after the thingshe'd said about Ron's family? And of course, when Potter was Sorted into Slytherin,it felt like he had been vindicated.

It was only later that doubts began to whisper in his mind. For one thing it didn'tseem to Ron, in his more honest moments, that Potter was very happy in Slytherin.

There were signs that he didn't get along with his Housemates much better thanRon and the Gryffindors did, and on several occasions during their first year thedark-haired boy had tried to speak to Ron and apologise for what had happened onthe train. But Ron had the Weasley temper and would have none of it.

Self-righteousness is a cold bedfellow. Ron was one of four Gryffindor boys in theiryear; an unusually small group. When Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan paired up,he was more or less forced into the company of Neville Longbottom, but the two of

them had little in common and eventually Ron found himself spending quite a lot oftime with the bossy but good-hearted Hermione Granger instead. It was an explosivefriendship sometimes and it wasn't the same as having a good male friend. He didn'thave many other options though, and in the end he did what all Weasley's did indifficult situations he made the best of it and told himself that he was happy.

But in the third year, things took an unexpected twist. A notorious criminal calledSirius Black escaped from Azkaban and it didn't take long for theDaily Prophet tobroadcast the fact that not only had the man betrayed Harry Potter's parents and

sent them to their deaths, but that he also just happened to be Potter's godfather.Rumours began to circulate that he might be heading for Hogwarts and speculationwas rife as to his intentions. After all, the Boy Who Lived had been Sorted into theDark Lord's own House. What could it all mean?

Ron might have watched the entire affair as a curious bystander had he not beenforced into the role of unwitting participant. For Sirius Black didn't go after Harryafter all instead he broke into Gryffindor Tower and seized Ron's pet rat, Scabbers.

Ron preferred not to dwell on this incident, which had been terrifying, humiliating

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and almost surreal in its improbability. Nevertheless, Scabbers was unmasked anAnimagus called Pettigrew the real betrayer of Lily and James Potter Black wasre-tried and exonerated, and life went on ... in Ron's case minus one pet rat that hehad secretly been rather attached to. (Black had offered to replace Scabbers andeven bought Ron an owl, but the stupid bird had promptly attached itself to hissister Ginny instead.)

One final incident had set the cap on the whole sorry drama. One day, around thetime of Black's re-trial, Harry Potter stopped Ron in a corridor and thanked him forhis "help" in freeing his godfather.

This was too much. Already hypersensitive about the incident, Ron felt that he wasbeing mocked and his response had been in retrospect unnecessarily violent.

Potter had left him strictly alone after that.

Ron knew he should feel pleased. This was what he had wanted, right? He had noreason to feel uncomfortable, let alone wistful, and certainly had no excuse for beingas obsessed as he was with the dark-haired Slytherin boy.

So why on earth, when he was nearly seventeen years old, when it was six yearsafter he'd turned his back on Harry Potter's friendship, should what the other boythought of him matter so much? Shouldn't he have moved on long ago?

He'd asked Hermione that once, after the Scabbers/Pettigrew thing. He'd beenfeeling low and a little lonely and had poured out the whole story of Harry Potterand Draco Malfoy on the train. The bushy-haired girl had listened and then lookedrather thoughtful.

"You know, he's not such a bad sort, as Slytherins go," she'd offered. "He'sactually polite to me, unlike Malfoy and his goons. And sometimes I think he looksquite lonely."

This was not at all helpful and Ron had told her so. And it didn't help his peace ofmind. Potter was a Slytherin. Ron was a Gryffindor. Gryffindors and Slytherinsmixed about as well as oil and water. Wasn't that the point?

Well, maybe and then again maybe not. He'd been given a slightly differentperspective to chew on at Christmas. His older brother Bill had made it home foronce, and Ron had always looked up to him. Bill was the eldest, he was a

curse-breaker for Gringotts, he was cool and sometimes did things their motherdidn't approve of. He was someone Ron had always felt had answers and he could

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to scratch if they wanted to win. Gryffindor had won a few games against theSlytherins, but only ever on points; Dennis Creevey was a good Seeker but there wasno denying that Harry Potter was the best in the school, hands down. The onlyadvantage Gryffindor had was that their team was very good overall; Slytherin, onthe other hand, had one or two players who could best be described as 'average'.

With a head full of Beater strategies, it was hardly surprising that it took amoment or two to register the round, lidded basket next to his breakfast plate.Hermione had to nudge his elbow and point it out.

"Looks like you have an anonymous admirer! Aren't you going to open it?"

All his other presents were in the Gryffindor Common Room, waiting for him toopen them at lunch-time. Ron looked at the basket, more than a little surprised, and

suspicion prickled the nape of his neck.

"No label," he said warily. "You don't think ?"

He looked at the other Gryffindors, whose faces began to mirror his doubt. Itwouldn't be the first time a spiteful joke had been played on one or other of them attheir table. Hermione took her wand out and held it at the ready.

"Open it - carefully," she instructed him.

There was a little peg-and-loop catch on the basket. Ron fumbled it undone, took adeep breath - and flipped the lid back, pulling his hand away sharply.

Nothing happened for several tense seconds. Then something inside the basketmoved, making a rustling sound.

"What the - " Ron hesitantly peered over the top of the basket. "Oh! Oh my God - "

"What is it?" Seamus demanded, staring across the table.

Oblivious to all the eyes on him, Ron carefully reached into the basket and liftedout a handful of spotted fluff with two outsized ears.

"It's a Kneazle!" Hermione exclaimed, unnecessarily.

"Oh Ron!" That was his sister, Ginny, and she was out of her seat at once, wanting

to take a closer look. "Who would give you a kitten?"

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Ron drew back, holding the kitten closer to his chest. He wasn't sure why, but hedidn't want his sister to touch it.

"That's right," he heard Hermione say. "No, don't touch, Ginny! It needs to imprinton Ron."

"There's something pinned inside the lid of the basket," Neville pointed out."Maybe it's a note."

"Here, I'll get it for him."

For once, Ron was grateful for Hermione's interference. He wasn't quite surewhat to say or how to react, but primarily his mind was occupied with the tiny bodyin his hands that was purring hard enough to vibrate. The fur was a light golden

brown with dark chocolate spots that matched in pattern on each side of the kitten'sbody; the only marring of the symmetry was an off-centre blotch on the nose - a signof excellent breeding, for pure symmetry could only mean the use of illegal charmsby an unscrupulous breeder. The tall ears were lightly speckled and rimmed in darkbrown fur and the tassel on the short tail was chocolate coloured; the eyes werebright blue. The kitten was perfect.

"There's a note," Hermione told him. "Do you want me to read it?"

"Go on."

"It saysHappy Birthday. I hope you like her. Her name is Rosebud. Sorry aboutthat, I didn't name her. There's a pedigree certificate enclosed and a MinistryKneazle Licence in your name."

Ron looked at the kitten, who sat up in his hands and peered back at him, craningher small neck so that she could delicately sniff his chin.

"Rosebud?" he said to her, and she made a funny little chirping sound in response.

There was a muffled snigger from Dean and Seamus's direction.

"Rosebud!"

Ron shot a glare at them and pointedly turned his attention to Hermione. "Whosent it?"

She offered him the note wordlessly and he looked at the scrawled signature.

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Harry Potter.

End Part 2/7

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A Rose, By Any Other Name

There was no time to work up a decent reaction to this revelation; Ron hadPotions and Divination before lunch, and the bigger question was what he would do

with the kitten in the meantime. He couldn't leave her in his dormitory; it wasHermione's knowledgeable opinion that Rosebud was too young to be left alone andwould probably need feeding by midmorning. And in any case she needed to 'bond'with Ron if he wanted to have any hope of keeping a strong-willed creature like aKneazle with him.

In the event, Rosebud proved that her independence and intelligence were alreadywell developed. She inspected every fold of Ron's robes while he snatched amouthful of breakfast and by the time he was ready for his first class, she was curled

up deep inside a pocket, fast asleep.

Any hope that she would stay there until midmorning was in vain, though. Halfwaythrough Potions, and in an embarrassingly quiet moment when everyone was takingdown notes, Rosebud woke up and scrambled out of Ron's robe onto the workbench.She yawned, stretched luxuriously, and made a plaintive demand that drew everyeye.

Ron hastily pulled out a napkin containing some scraps he'd filched from thekipper dish at breakfast. He'd anticipated something like this happening, but notthat the ungrateful little minx would gulp the lot down and demand more, clawinghis hand in the process. Nor had he expected that her kitten cries would be so loudor heartbreaking. Several of the girls were already looking at him like he was anabusive monster.

It was hardly surprising, then, that Professor Snape should swoop down upon him,demanding sharply to know what was going on. Rosebud took instant exception to

this, hissing at the Potions Master and bristling aggressively. She looked laughablysweet with her fur fluffed out and tail sticking straight up, but Ron was terrified thatshe would actually attack Snape. She might look about as threatening as a fluffy toy,but her tiny claws were needle-sharp and could inflict real damage.

Fortunately Snape was more familiar with the nature and habits of Kneazles thanRon. He didn't attempt to touch Rosebud, but instead stooped until he was lookingher straight in the eye - albeit from a couple of feet away.

"Exactly what is the meaning of this unnecessary display?" he demanded.

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Disconcerted, the kitten's ears flicked backwards and she backed up a step or two,sitting down rather abruptly.

"She's hungry, sir," Ron muttered, red-faced.

"That, Mr. Weasley, is more than obvious," Snape snapped at him. "Why did you

not ensure you had sufficient food for her before you entered my classroom and setabout disrupting it? You have no business owning an animal, let alone an intelligentcreature like a Kneazle, if you cannot care for it! Twenty points from Gryffindor - "

Rosebud hissed at him again and batted one tiny paw in the air, claws extendedand ears flattened.

"No doubt," Snape told her coolly. "However much I may deprecate your taste,

your loyalty cannot be faulted. Nevertheless, I think you will join me at the front ofthe room until Mr. Weasley has completed his work. Come along."

He extended a hand to her. Rosebud looked at it with uniquely feline doubt andcast a look at Ron as if to sayNow what?

Snape sighed. "I believe," he informed her austerely, "that I may have a jar ofElephant Prawns in my drawer that you would like."

That settled it. Rosebud deigned to be carried to Snape's desk, where she spentthe rest of the lesson daintily eating fat, juicy prawns from his fingertips.

The incident met with mixed reactions outside the classroom afterwards.

"I don't care what anyone says," Dean commented. "Anything that keeps Snapeoccupied for half a lesson is worth twenty points!"

"I'm sure all that shellfish can't be good for her," Hermione fretted. "She's onlyyoung."

"I have to get to Divination," Ron said tiredly. "I'll get a book about Kneazles fromthe library later."

"Are you all right?" she asked him, concerned.

"Yeah, I just didn't need that much excitement in Potions. I hope Divination's a bit

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"Yeah. Which means that you're a greedy little Kneazle, aren't you? No wonderyou were sick. Mind you, Snape should have known better, after tearing a strip offme like that . You're not supposed to have milk too often and I need to keep a littlepot of grass for you to nibble on occasionally. You'd better be nice to Neville, then,and not chase Trevor around the dorm - "

There was a muffled laugh and Ron looked up. Harry Potter was standing in thedoorway of the private study cubicle. He was dressed in his Quidditch gear and wassoaking wet, dripping rivulets of mud and water onto the floor; even the Fireboltbroomstick in his right hand was dripping. His dark hair was plastered to his headand there was a bloody graze along his left cheekbone that was beginning to puff up.

And he looked surprisingly good, in spite of the spectacles and general disarray.He'd grown a lot in the six years they'd been at school, losing the scrawny,

undersized look Ron remembered from that first meeting on the Hogwarts Express,and had put on both height and muscle. He would never be as tall as Ron, of course -who was six feet tall already - but he looked the way a healthy, active sixteen yearold should.

Ron found he had to clear his throat before he could say, in a suitably sardonictone, "Rough practice?"

"There was a spot of drizzle," Potter acknowledged.

More like a deluge. "Madam Pince'll strangle you when she sees water on thefloor."

The other boy shrugged. He pulled the outer robe over his head - taking care notto splatter the table - and deliberately wrung it out on the floor, grinning at Ron'sexpression. Then he pulled his wand out of the thigh pocket of his trousers and casta Drying Charm on the floor and his robes.

There was a pause. There was no second chair in the cramped little room, so inthe end Potter perched on the window ledge.

"You're both getting along all right, then?" he asked awkwardly.

"Yeah." Now that the Slytherin was here, Ron wasn't sure what to say. "She'sgreat. Very popular, although she doesn't seem to be very keen on other people."

That was an understatement. Some people she would tolerate Hermione forexample and, bizarrely, Millicent Bulstrode. Others she took varying degrees of

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exception to. Colin Creevey had been clawed while trying to take a photograph ofher and she howled a warning at the least sign of Draco Malfoy and his goons. Andshe growled and fluffed up her fur at Ginny, a fact Ron tried hard not to be toopleased about.

Interestingly, she hadn't made a sound about Harry Potter's presence, though.

Potter nodded. "According to Hagrid, Kneazles aren't really much like cats at alland they mostly avoid people, but if they take a liking to you, they're very loyal. Andyou've got a better chance of that when they're Rosebud's age."

Which reminded Ron. "Who named her?"

At this the other boy looked rueful. "Hagrid, of course! He gives creatures the

weirdest names. He had a giant three-headed dog once, calledFluffy."

Ron stared. "That thing had a name?"

Potter's brows went up. "When did you meet Fluffy?"

Ron and Hermione had accidentally been shut in a room with the monster aftertaking a wrong turning during their first year. But he wasn't about to admit that toHarry Potter.

"I'd still like to know why you gave her to me." Actually, he'd had a longer speechplanned, one that included a statement about how he couldn't accept the giftwithout a very good reason, but it was one thing to plan a speech like that andanother entirely to actually sayit when he was holding a handful of affectionatelypurring kitten. Now that he'd spent a day in her company, Ron didn't think he couldgive her back.

It was interesting how stumped Potter seemed to be by the question, though. Thedark-haired boy opened and closed his mouth a couple of times without speaking,and looked down at his hands.

Finally, he said, "Have you ever wondered what it would have been like, that dayon the train, if ...."

"If you hadn't cosied up to Malfoy and his pals?" asked Ron, rather acidly. It was alow blow and he knew it, but it had to be said.

For a moment he thought Potter might dispute the statement, but then the

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Slytherin swallowed. "Yeah, if that hadn't happened."

"Yeah, I've thought about it." More than he wanted to admit.

"And?"

"And I'd still be a Gryffindor and you'd be a Slytherin and ne'er the twain shallmeet."

"You reckon?" Potter gave him an odd look for a moment. "What did the SortingHat say to you when you put it on?"

Ron blinked. "How do you know it said anything?"

"Did it?"

"Well ... yes. It saidHa - another Weasley! I know just what to do with you! Almostall of my family have been Gryffindors, though "

"It said to meNow, where to put you?" the other boy interrupted. "And you knowwhat? I was so mad with you for turning your back on me that I told it I didn't wantto be in any House you were in. So it put me in Slytherin."

There was an astonished silence. Then Potter added quietly, "I've never toldanyone that before. And yes, afterwards I felt pretty bloody stupid. But it was toolate then, wasn't it? Just like I felt bloody stupid for shaking Malfoy's hand, but itwas too late then as well." His mouth tightened for a moment. "Crap like thathappens to me a lot."

Ron wasn't sure what to say. More to the point, he wasn't sure what tofeel. A partof him felt a sharp twinge of guilt for his overreaction that day on the train, butanother part was angry at the other boy for hinting, however obliquely, that thissituation was his fault somehow.

"You seem to have done all right for yourself," he said curtly. "Seeker in your firstyear, House Cup four years in a row, top of Charms and DADA "

"And so famous!" Potter said mockingly, and Ron flushed. "Yeah, everyone shouldhave a homicidal megalomaniac after them it does wonders for your social life.Everyone loves you not.And the reporters never leave you alone. Apparently I'm

just waiting for an opportunity to throw my lot in with Voldemort because, youknow, that makes perfect sense. He murdered my parents. Of course I'm going to

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want to join him."

"Oh, come off it! No one really believes that," Ron scoffed, conveniently forgettingsome of his own doubts about the Slytherin.

"You reckon? Well, you'd be surprised. The oddest people look at me like I'm a

ticking time-bomb."

"Like who?" Ron demanded hotly, and was taken aback by the amused look Pottergave him. "I've never "

"Third year," the other boy said, "when Sirius broke out of Azkaban. Dumbledorecalled me to his office to warn me that he might be after me. When the story gotaround the school, what did you say about me in DADA?"

Ron felt his face begin to burn. He couldn't remember now what had provokedhim to make the remark, but he'd certainly said something a bit sharp to the effectthat Harry Potter might actually be looking forward to meeting the escaped convict.It had felt like a really satisfying bit ofdouble entendre at the time, but now he feltmore than a bit foolish.

"If it makes you feel any better, Malfoy was saying pretty much the same thing atthe time," Potter told him, without rancour.

"It doesn't," Ron said curtly. There was another pause. "After all that, why did youstop me and thank me for helping to get him off the hook?" he asked finally.

The dark-haired boy looked surprised. "Because you did."

"I thought you were taking the piss out of me."

"Yeah, I know you did, but for the life of me I couldn't think of any other way tosay it that wouldn't have set you off anyway."

Ron stared. "Why did you even bother?"

Potter shrugged. "For the same reason I shook Malfoy's hand on the train, Isuppose."

"I don't get it."

"It was polite. You thank people when they help you out and if someone offers to

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shake your hand in greeting, it doesn't kill you to shake, even if they do turn out tobe a scumbag later."

"He'd just called my family a bunch of losers!" Ron was outraged.

Potter sighed. "Yes, I know. But I was eleven years old and I reacted without

thinking! Do you know what my uncle and aunt did to me if they thought I was rudeto anyone? They beat me and made me go without food for a day. I learned prettyquick not to be rude to people, even complete tossers."

Ron digested this, feeling uncomfortable. Of course Potter could have beenmaking this up, but he didn't think so. There was really no point in making up astory like that.

"I was just a kid," he muttered. "I was angry and hurt."

"I know. I was just a kid too, though, and I'd never had any friends. I didn't wantto alienate people on my first day."

"So what now? You want to start over?" Ron shook his head. "It's a bit late, don'tyou think?"

"Is it?" Potter asked him. "I mean does it have to be? Couldn't we try again?"

"Why would you want to?"

"Because ... because you were the first chance at a friend I ever had. You werenice to me on the train and we had a good laugh before he came along. And yourmum was nice to me on the platform. I've thought about things a lot over the lastfew years. Seems stupid, doesn't it? Anyone else would have put it all behind them,but I've never been able to do that. A lot of crap has happened to me in my life, butnothing I've ever regretted as much as losing you as a friend."

Ron digested this for a while.

Finally he said carefully, "Sounds to me like you put a lot more emphasis on thewordfriend than most people do."

Watching the colour rise in Harry Potter's face was an interesting experience. Butto his credit, the Slytherin didn't look away.

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"So ... was he suggesting what I think he was suggesting?" asked Hermionehesitantly.

"If you're asking, was he suggesting he wanted to be a bit more than my friend quite a bit more then yeah," Ron admitted, and his ears began to turn red.

Hermione clearly wasn't sure how to deal with this information.

They were sitting together on the floor of Ron's dormitory, and between them laya small, flat tray full of sand. Hermione had earlier pointed out that Rosebud wouldneed a litter tray, but so far the Kneazle kitten had done little more than sniffcautiously at the edges of it. She was unusually bright, like all her kind, and as anadult she would be even more intelligent, but Ron wasn't sure if she'd quite got theidea of the tray. He didn't want to upset her by dumping her in the middle of it,

though.

"How do you feel about that?" Hermione asked, bringing him back to theirconversation.

He shrugged. "I don't really know."

"You're not horrified by the idea, then?"

Ron's blush deepened on his ears and began to creep around his neck as well."Not ... horrified. But I don't know how I do feel about it. Weird, I s'pose. I mean,another bloke just told me he fancies me. What the hell do I say?"

"What did you say?"

"That I'd have to think about it."

There was a pause.

"That sort of sounds like you're going to see him again," Hermione venturedcautiously.

"Well ... yes." Ron's blush was now at eyebrow level.

"Not in the Astronomy Tower, I hope!" she joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere,and he grinned.

"A bit bloody nippy up there at this time of year! No, he's got an Herbology project

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he's working on. I said I'd meet him in Greenhouse Four tomorrow after lunch."

"Better keep a sharp eye out for Neville, then," was Hermione's dry comment.Neville was known for being something of a gossip in Gryffindor.

Rosebud made a sudden decision and took a flying leap into the tray, scattering

sand everywhere. Ron shook scattered grains from his robes, grinning wryly.

"That's a good girl," he told her soothingly. "See? Not scary at all."

"But Ron," Hermione persisted, "what are you going to say to him? I mean, areyou interested? I know you haven't had many girlfriends, but ... do you seriouslythink you might be - " her voice dropped, "gay?"

"You could ask the same thing about him," Ron pointed out, avoiding the question."It's not like he's been seen around with every girl in the top three years, is it? Okay,he had that fling with the Ravenclaw Seeker Cho Chang. Everyone remembers thatbecause she turned out to be seeing the Hufflepuff Seeker at the same time."

"Pity she didn't proposition Dennis and make it a full set," Hermione commenteddryly.

Ron sniggered. "Dennis was hoping she would!"

"Perhaps it's just as well she didn't. Look at what happened to Diggory during theTri-Wizard Tournament last year."

"You don't seriously think he did that, do you? Dumbledore stood up in the GreatHall and said it was You Know Who ."

"No, I don't seriouslythink that," Hermione replied. "I just wondered if you did."

"It does look odd," Ron admitted. "But he was accused of being the Heir ofSlytherin in second year, and that turned out to be my sister, for pity's sake! Notthat it was her fault," he added defensively.

"I know it wasn't her fault! No, you just seemed a bit doubtful after Diggory'sdeath, and you seem to have changed your mind now."

Ron hesitated. "I don't really know," he said finally, "but I trust Dumbledore and I

trust my dad, and Dad said afterwards that it definitely couldn't have been HarryPotter. So ."

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"So we were talking about his girlfriends," she prompted him, deciding it might bebest to get off the subject of Cedric Diggory's death for now.

"Right. So then he took Parvati to the Yule Ball last year, but I'm sure that wasjust to get her off his back. She was panting over him for months before that, butshe didn't seem so keen afterwards."

"She said he couldn't dance and kept forgetting she was there," Hermionecommented, the corner of her mouth quirking.

"Yeah, right! And there was that other Ravenclaw at Halloween, the fifth year one "

"Amy Snodgrass."

"That's her. Didn't last long though. And that's all of them."

"All of them that we know about," Hermione pointed out.

"Well yeah, but I think we'd have known if he was seeing anyone else. IfWitchWeeklydidn't plaster it across the front pages, Malfoy would have been bitchingabout it."

"Funny how they don't seem to get along."

"I asked him about that," Ron said thoughtfully. "He said until Malfoy became aprefect and got his own room, it was a bit like a war zone in their dorm. Malfoyhates anyone getting more attention than him, even when it's unintentional. Hereckons Blaise Zabini's okay, but he has to watch his back around the others.Grabbe and Goyle are too thick to have a go at him unless Malfoy puts them up to it,though."

Hermione shuddered. "What a lovely place Slytherin House must be!"

"Yeah. A bit like working at the Ministry, eh? Oh, clever girl!" This last was toRosebud, who had finally worked out what the sand tray was for.

Hermione laughed softly. "You sound like a proud father!"

He grinned. "Oh well ...! She's great, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is." But she had to smile. Ron had liked all of his birthday presents, but it

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would have been hard for anyone not to notice how delighted he was with the kitten,in spite of the lively day he'd had with her.

All in all, it made her wonder where this business with Harry Potter was going tolead.

End Part 3/7

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Step Into The Garden ...

Saturday did not start auspiciously.

Ron was awoken at the crack of dawn by Rosebud. She spent the night sleeping inher basket, which was on the side of his bed, wedged tight with a Securing Charm.But at first light she crawled out and let Ron know with some plaintive mewing andscrabbling of her paws that she needed to be let out rather urgently.

Barely half awake, he lowered her to the floor and rolled back into his blankets,thinking no more of it.

Less than half an hour later the whole dorm was awoken by a yell of pain and

outrage.

"GET HER OFF ME!"

Ron fell out of bed in his haste to discover what was happening to Rosebud afterall, she was the only "her" in the dormitory. Opposite him, Dean was sitting boltupright in his bed, as was Neville who was staring across at Seamus, his mouth wideopen in astonishment.

Seamus was flat on his back, writhing, with a tiny bundle of growling fur attachedto his groin. He let out another yell that was more of a shriek, and Ron managed topropel himself to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing to her?!"

"What do you mean, what am I doing to her?" Seamus roared. "She attacked ME,you moron! Get her off me!"

Dean let out a whoop of laughter and collapsed back into his pillows, whileNeville, sniggering, climbed out of bed and went to help Ron. It was only then thatthe two of them could fully appreciate what Dean had already guessed Rosebudhad decided to attack a very sensitive part of Seamus's anatomy.

It took a couple of minutes of coaxing before Ron could get her to relax her gripand remove her.

"How the hell did she get hold of it anyway?" he demanded, when Seamus swore

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at him.

"How do you think?" Dean demanded, still gasping with laughter.

The penny dropped.

"You stupid git," Ron told the Irish boy, exasperated. "Why didn't you keep yourcurtains closed, so she couldn't see you? It's not like the rest of us want to watchyou at it!"

Seamus climbed out of bed, shaking with anger and pain. "If that mangy dishraghas unmanned me, Weasley "

"Ah, shut it!" Ron snapped back, trying to soothe the growling kitten. "You

shouldn't have been waving it around! Of course she was curious she's only ababy!" The "baby" howled her outrage from the safety of his arms. "Go to MadamPomfrey if you're that worried, but it's only a few scratches!"

Not surprisingly, Seamus was not to be seen at the breakfast table that morning,but by some mysterious means the story got around and the entire Gryffindor tablewas soon convulsed with laughter. By the time Ron left the Great Hall Rosebud wasplump with treats from her delighted well-wishers, not least of whom was LavenderBrown who had suffered an ignominious dumping at Seamus's hands only the week

before.

Deciding that staying out of Seamus's way would be the best thing to do, Rongrabbed his homework pile and spent the rest of the morning in an unprecedentedbout of studying in the library, but in spite of everything he got very little workdone. He felt restless and unsettled; the row with Seamus hadn't helped, but he wasalso growing nervous about the meeting with Harry Potter and spent most of histime turning over Hermione's comments from the previous evening in his mind.

Was he gay? He didn't know, but he supposed the very fact that he couldcontemplate the idea so calmly said a lot. Any of his dorm-mates would haverejected such a notion with great violence, even quiet Neville. He'd had a couple ofgirlfriends, of course, but they'd been tepid affairs and quickly over; certainlynothing to write poetry about.

Did he fancy Harry Potter? Well, there was no denying that his first thought, whenhe'd seen him the previous evening, was that he looked extremely good in his

Quidditch gear, even soaking wet. Not exactly a thought your average red-bloodedmale had about another bloke. But if he was totally honest with himself, he'd been

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'noticing' male students more than females for some time now.

Was he ready to embark on a relationship with the Slytherin boy? Was he evenready to embark upon afriendship with him? They'd sat for nearly two hours in thelibrary, talking about everything and nothing. For the first time since that incidenton the Hogwarts Express, Ron felt like there was a bond of understanding and

camaraderie. It was as good as his friendships with Hermione and his brother Bill; itwas better.

That still left him with questions, but one thing was for sure; there was only oneway to get answers.

The greenhouses were very pleasant places to be at this time of year and Ron

shamelessly enjoyed the concentrated warmth and earthy, green smells as hedawdled along the paths with Rosebud balancing on his shoulder. Greenhouse Fourcontained magical plants deemed as 'delicate' or 'difficult' and one of the mainHerbology projects in the first phase of NEWTs was to choose such a plant and growit from seed through to maturity, taking copious notes throughout the process. Ronhad chosen a Dragonfly Lily which was even now pupating in one of ProfessorSprout's propagators at the rear of the building, but it looked like Harry Potter hadopted for one of the deceptively tough-looking Straining Balm Bushes.

The dark-haired boy looked up as Ron approached and grinned, straightening up.His hands were covered in a slick of oil, so he cautiously wiped his hot brow with theback of one wrist.

"If anyone had told me when I first came here that I'd spend hours massaging atree ."

Ron grinned back at him. "You should have picked something that hibernates for

six months!"

"I would have, but they were all gone by the time I got to the seed tray. I knew Ishould have hit Crabbe over the head and nicked his." Potter looked at the plantcritically. "Do you reckon it's working? It's not as twisted up as it was earlier - mostof the branches have relaxed."

"Do you have to do that often?" Ron asked.

"Once a day," Potter replied wryly. Then he grinned again and wiggled his fingers

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at Ron. "I'm getting good at it, so maybe I have a career when I leave Hogwarts afterall!"

Ron snorted a laugh. "I'll bear it in mind! I could probably do with a massage aftertomorrow's game."

"I'm sure we can come to an arrangement - " Potter broke off abruptly, turningred. "Um yeah. So. Let me just put this stuff away ."

He wiped his hands on an old rag and began to put his equipment away. Roncouldn't help noticing that the back of his neck was scarlet. He wasn't surprised; hisown neck and face felt hotter than a furnace. Massage right. Not a good imageunder the circumstances. As if sensing his sudden discomfort, Rosebud made ananxious sound in his left ear and Ron quickly reached up to reassure her.

He cleared his throat nervously. "You sound like you think you won't get a jobwhen you leave here."

"I'm not worrying about it, but no, not really. I'm famous for all the wrongreasons and I seem to make people nervous." Potter straightened up again andshrugged at Ron, looking pensive. "It's not a big issue right now, though. I'll worryabout a job when I know for sure that I'm going to survive to the end of seventhyear."

Now Ron began to feel uneasy. "You mean You Know Who?"

"Who else?"

"Is that really likely?"

Potter gave him a rather twisted smile. "Nah, not really. I make these things up,don't you know that? Attention seeking, that's me." There was a strained pause andhis shoulders slumped. "Sorry, that was unfair. But I get a bit fed up of being treatedlike an hysteric. For crying out loud, I don't ask for things to happen to me!"

Ron badly wanted to ask him about the Tri-Wizard Tournament and CedricDiggory's death in their fifth year. Many people believed, in spite of Dumbledorepublicly saying that Diggory had been murdered by Lord Voldemort, that HarryPotter had killed him in revenge for Cho Chang two-timing him with the Hufflepuffyouth. It was one of many reasons why people were "nervous" around him. Now

didn't seem like a very good time to ask, though.

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"So ...." he said awkwardly. "What do you want to do? Take a walk? Talk?"

"That would be great." But Potter hesitated. "Have you you know thoughtabout what I said?"

Ron felt himself turned red. "Um, yeah."

Potter nodded, turning red himself. "Tell you what I have the password for theHeadmaster's rose garden. How about we go there?"

"How did you get that?"

"Oh, after stuff like ... like the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he said sometimes I mightneed to be on my own to think. And he gave me the password."

"Do you go there much?" Ron asked curiously.

Potter shrugged. "Sometimes. It's nice there. Quiet. And sometimes he's there andwe talk."

Ron would have loved to ask what Harry Potter and the Headmaster talked about,but that would have been pretty rude even by his standards, so he squelched thequestion.

"Okay." He wasn't going to pass up the chance to see Dumbledore's privategarden, especially since he was pretty sure even his twin brothers, Fred and George,hadn't managed to get a peek at it. "But God knows what he'll think if he sees methere with you."

Potter shrugged again. "He wouldn't be shocked. I don't think anything surprisesDumbledore."

Oh, I don't know about that, Ron thought.He looked pretty surprised when youwere Sorted into Slytherin. But all he said was, "Let's go, then."

Potter flashed him a swift smile that made odd sensations in Ron's stomach.

"Rosebud will love the Catnip there."

But unknown to the two of them, they were watched as they left the greenhouse

together.

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Rosebud did indeed like the garden. Her ears and whiskers were twitching withinterest from the moment Potter whispered the password to a section of tall hedgethat turned into a wrought iron gate, and Ron could feel her tiny claws flexing on hisshoulder with excitement.

"McGonagall says I need to keep her stimulated and let her explore her

environment," he commented, his own eyes wide with fascination has he lookedaround at the elaborate garden.

Potter smiled at him. "That could get a bit lively."

"Yeah. She decided to explore her environment at six thirty this morning."

"And?"

"And she caught Seamus, ah, stimulating himself."

It was reassuring that the normally rather reserved Harry Potter could sniggerlike everyone else.

"What did she do?" he asked, eyes dancing with anticipation.

Ron shrugged, grinning. "Decided it was a threat and attacked. I thought she was

never going to let go of him."

Potter let out a whoop of laughter. "Brilliant! Do you think we can train her to dothat to Malfoy?"

Ron chuckled. He carefully lifted Rosebud from his shoulder. "Is it safe to let herrun loose in here?"

"Should be. Bring her over here, there's some grass and a herb border next to thisbench."

The grass was a good idea. Rosebud took a few uncertain steps, then shookherself decisively and took a couple of leaping bounds, her whiskers, ears and tail allquivering. Potter leaned over and rustled a branch of one of the small bushes tocatch her attention.

"Here Rosie! Catnip!"

She gave him a disdainful look, which Ron took to mean that she didn't like being

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treated like a mere cat, and instead went to rub herself around the base of a sageplant.

"That put me in my place," Potter said philosophically and he sat down on thebench.

"She's picky," Ron explained. He sat down too.

There was an awkward silence. Neither of them was quite sure what to say.

"This is really nice," Ron said rather inanely after a minute or two.

"Yeah. I suppose there have to be compensations for being the headmaster."

"What do you mean?"

" Well, compensations for all the crap he puts up with. There's the Board ofGovernors for a start. Malfoy's daddy's on that one and he's always stirring uptrouble. Then there's old Fudge at the Ministry, either begging for advice or tryingto interfere in appointing teachers and setting the curriculum - "

"Dumbledore tells you all that?" Ron was amazed.

But Potter shook his head. "Nah. Dumbledore talks about stuff like ten-pin bowlingand charms to wash socks. Remus tells me about running the school."

"Who's Remus?" asked Ron, mystified.

"Remus Lupin, my other godfather."

"The bloke who taught DADA in third year?"

Potter smiled wryly. "Yeah, him."

Ron stared. "Did you know he was your godfather? 'Cause I thought you lived withthose Muggles until Sirius Black was cleared."

"I did. Remus wasn't allowed to become my guardian - don't you know he's awerewolf?"

"Everyone knows he's a werewolf! But ." Ron paused and flushed. "Oh, ofcourse. I s'pose the Ministry wouldn't let him look after you, would they? Not if he -

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um - goes a bit hairy once a month."

"It's not the hair, it's the teeth and homicidal impulses," was Potter's bland reply."Although I've lived with him and Sirius for three years now, and he's been fine." Fora moment Ron thought he saw anger flash into the other boy's eyes. "It's onlybecause people are prejudiced and the Ministry gets hysterical that he has to live

like that. He hasn't had a proper job since he left Hogwarts because the Ministrytells every employer that he's dangerous."

"Hermione told me there was a potion - "

"Yeah, the Wolfsbane Potion." Now Potter sounded bitter. "You have to be aqualified Potions Master to make it because it's really difficult and some of theingredients are restricted. Snape made it for him while he was working here, but he

won't do it now because he hates Sirius. Well, Remus isn't a potions master andneither is Sirius, and at this rate I won't be either because Snape keeps marking medown in Potions, no matter how well I do."

"He can't fiddle your NEWTs score!"

"No, but he can refuse to enter me for the exam. He has to sign off the applicationform to say I've reached a reasonable level."

"He'd be contradicting himself then, because you had to reach a reasonable levelin your OWL before he'd accept you on the NEWT course in the first place!" Ronpointed out.

"Let's hope you're right," Potter said gloomily, "because if I don't sit the examafter all this, I'll probably end up having another row with Sirius about my NEWTchoices."

"Why would you have a row with him about it?"

"He didn't think I should take Potions or Divination." Potter shrugged, but fromthe sudden tension in his wiry frame this was clearly a touchy subject. "We buttheads like that sometimes. He gets funny ideas."

"Yeah, my mum's a bit like that," Ron said, seizing on a familiar subject with relief."She wanted me to take Astronomy instead of Divination and Care Of MagicalCreatures instead of DADA."

They shared a rueful grin.

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"You must get a lot of pressure because of your brothers as well," Pottersuggested. "The whole family thing is a bit of a pain, isn't it? There's not much thatmakes me feel sorry for Malfoy, but his father has a wicked temper when Dracodoesn't get the marks he thinks he should. At least the Dursleys never cared howwell I did in class."

Ron thought about his family. Bill was a curse-breaker, Charlie worked withdragons, Percy was toiling away at the Ministry with their father, and the twinswere running their joke shop in Hogsmeade. They all had reputations for one thingor another.

"Mum wants me to go into the Ministry, like Dad and Percy," he said.

Potter looked at him, surprised. "Is that what you want to do?"

"No, but I only have to pass the entrance exam to get in. And she thinks it'srespectable." Ron wrinkled his nose distastefully. "I don't want to end upboot-licking like Percy for the next ten years."

"So what do you want to do?"

"Well I thought I might like to be a curse-breaker, like Bill," Ron admitted."That's why I took DADA. Mum thinks it's risky though ."

"Anything's risky with the would-be Master of the World on the loose," Potterpointed out. But there was a new light in his eyes. "Curse-breaking that soundsreally cool." Then his face fell again. "Not that anyone would hire me for that."

"They might," Ron told him encouragingly. "Bill works for Gringotts and thegoblins don't care what wizards think of people - they just hire the best person forthe job."

"Well maybe." Potter didn't look convinced. "Sirius is an Auror and so was mydad. I think he wants me to try for that, but I don't think they'd take me. I had thatcareers talk with Snape last year and he made it pretty clear the Aurors wouldn't beinterested. He said they haven't accepted a Slytherin for training in three centuries."A fleeting grin crossed his lips, but there wasn't much humour in it. "I think Siriusthinks he can just yell at someone and that'll sort it out."

There was another long pause. Ron watched Rosebud scampering in and out of

the bushes and remembered something.

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"She's probably going to want some food soon," he said.

"Yeah. And we haven't even talked about what we were going to talk about,"Potter added.

"Oh yeah." The colour began to make its way back up around Ron's neck. "Do

you want to well, be involved? Because I haven't I mean I never but I don'tmind ."

Potter cut him off with a low chuckle. "I haven't either," he assured Ron. "At least,never with a bloke, anyway. But there's a first time for everything. I'm notsuggesting we um you know." He turned scarlet.

"Well, no, but ." Ron suddenly realised how ridiculous it was, dancing around

the subject, and laughed. "Look, let's just leave the whole sex side of things fornow. Because I'm not ready for that. And I don't know how you feel about it, butholding hands doesn't do much for me - "

Potter snickered. "That'd land us in front of Madam Pomfrey for one of herlectures faster than being caught in a broom-cupboard together would!"

"Right." And wasn't that a hair-raising idea? Madam Pomfrey's lectures werelegendary. Ron shuddered.

"Look, I'm not suggesting we should declare undying love for each other and walkaround the school in a little cloud of hearts and flowers!" Potter said impatiently,seeing his expression. "Just let's hang out together a bit and see what happens.What do you think?"

Ron had a brief and unnerving flashback to the previous evening when Potterturned up in the library, soaking wet and looking edible.

"Okay," he said weakly.

"Fine."

They looked at each other and Ron felt a nervous grin tugging at his lips."Gryffindor versus Slytherin tomorrow afternoon," he reminded Potter.

The dark-haired boy smiled. "Yeah. Want to make a small side bet on whether

Crabbe or Goyle will knock themselves out before the end of the game?"

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For some reason when his feet tried frantically to get a purchase, they failed andwhen he threw out his hand to grab the railing, he missed. He tumbled down thestaircase backwards, head over heels in a jolting, crashing roll. Rosebud screechedin alarm and uppermost in Ron's mind was that she mustn't be hurt. That might havebeen his biggest mistake of all; Rosebud clawed herself free and when she landed itwas on all four feet, like all cats.

Ron was not so lucky. He landed heavily, hitting his head on the wall, which waswhere the House-elves found him a short while later, having been alerted byRosebud's cries of distress.

End Part 4/7

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From Ancient Grudge Break To New Mutiny

Harry ran into Millicent Bulstrode as he was hurrying down the passage to theSlytherin dorms. He was running late; a trip to the team broomshed to check on his

Firebolt, plus the necessity of collecting his abandoned Herbology equipment, hadmade him late for dinner and now he was late for a Charms revision session inProfessor Flitwick's classroom. The necessity of maintaining those small alliances hehad made in Slytherin made him slow down when he saw his Housemate though.

Millicent was not a girl nature had been kind to. Facially she resembled anoverbred bulldog and as she was also a big, square-set girl, the combination wasrather unfortunate. Appearances could be deceptive, though. While her personalitywas anything but warm and she had the reputation of being unpleasantly taciturn,

she had a long memory. For example, she remembered that during her first year atHogwarts Draco Malfoy had been extremely spiteful to her, while Harry Potter hadtaken the time to help her correct her broomstick technique after a particularlydisastrous first flying lesson.

It couldn't be called an alliance as such, but since then the two of them had gotinto the habit of helping each other out once in a while, in particular warning eachother when Malfoy and his cronies were on the prowl. It was valuable information

for them both.

"He's on the rampage again," she muttered, as Harry politely held the hidden dooropen for her to pass. "Been up to something.Idon't know what. Watch your back,Potter."

"Thanks," he muttered back.

He saw almost at once what she was referring to. Malfoy was huddled in a corner

with Crabbe, Goyle, his girlfriend Pansy Parkinson and a couple of seventh and fifthyears who collectively formed his personal court. They were whispering amongthemselves and every so often Pansy would let out a little high-pitched giggle.

Harry was used to this behaviour and his only concern was that he should get tohis dorm without having to hex any of them in the process. He walked past briskly,but just as he reached the stairs leading down to the dorms Malfoy looked up andshouted, "Alright there, scar-head?"

This was a name Malfoy had been calling Harry since their first year, along with

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'Potty Potter', 'The Boy Who Lived To Regret It', and a number of otherunimaginative titles. None of them ever failed to produce a guffaw of apparentlygenuine laughter from the blond boy's followers, and after nearly six years of thisHarry was beginning to question the pureblood policy of interbreeding exclusivelywith each other, since their behaviour seemed to suggest a terminal slide inintelligence among purebloods in general.

Then he remembered that both of his godfathers and his own father werepurebloods as, indeed, was Ron Weasley. Which led him to the depressingconclusion that it had something to do with being a Slytherin. Or maybe it wassimply contamination by Malfoy.

At any rate, Harry had perfected a response to this and most other commentsMalfoy flung his way. He would look at the blond youth with a feigned lack of

recognition, then produce a vague frown which suggested that he couldn't imaginewhy this lowly stranger might be addressing him. Then he would shrug slightly andcontinue with whatever he was doing. It rarely failed to provoke a response from theother boy, even if it was only another insult, but the fact that he had not reacted wassubtly satisfying to him.

Nor did it fail today, although Malfoy sounded far too happy for Harry's liking. Hepreferred the blond youth to be sullen or short-tempered, as annoying andunpleasant things tended to happen when he was in a good mood.

"Good news about the Gryffindor team, isn't it?" Malfoy said, sauntering over.

Harry sighed inwardly and turned back to face him. "What is?"

"They've conceded tomorrow's match. Wonder what could have happened to causethat?"

Harry stared at him blankly for a moment. The phrasing alone told him thatMalfoy knew preciselywhat had happened and was waiting for Harry to ask, butexperience also told him that asking for anything from him was a bad idea.

But what the hell could have caused Gryffindor to concede? They were doing toowell in the school league tables to do something so stupid at this crucial time.

So to Malfoy's evident amusement he merely shrugged and continued to run downthe stairs to the dorm, so that he could worry over the problem in private. Or as

near to private as it could get in a dorm shared with three other boys. A shufflingnoise told him that either Crabbe or Goyle had been delegated to follow and

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walked past Harry without seeing him and took the staircase down.

Harry blinked. But wasn't that Ron's mother - ?

"Potter!"

Snape's sharp, impatient voice made his head jerk around and he stood upquickly. The Potions Master gestured curtly and Harry followed him nervously intoDumbledore's office.

This was familiar territory for Harry; he'd had any number of reasons to be in theHeadmaster's offices over the years. But this was the first time since Sirius's retrialthat anyone other than another teacher had been present.

Three other people were sitting with Dumbledore when Snape led Harry inside.The Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall,sat to one side of the Headmaster's desk. A thin man with premature grey hair andquiet eyes was one of Harry's godparents and his former DADA teacher, RemusLupin. And the third ....

Shoulder-length black hair, fierce dark eyes, handsome features and a tall,restless frame - this third man was Sirius Black, Harry's guardian and his father'sclosest friend. Thirteen years in Azkaban had not aged him as obviously as years of

being a penniless werewolf had done to Lupin, but he was not the laughingcare-for-nobody in James and Lily Potter's wedding photographs either. Somethinginside him had been hardened; the same something, perhaps, that had beenhardened inside Harry as a result of being Sorted into Slytherin, although in allhonesty the teenager had no idea. He and Sirius didn't have what could be calledentirely open lines of communication; there was too much wariness, disappointmentand misunderstanding on both sides.

Harry's stomach dropped like a stone as his guardian's eyes did their usualassessing flick over him before coming to rest, for one pained split-second, on theSlytherin badge on his robes. Then the dark eyes returned to his face and one browquirked upwards questioningly. Harry felt a twinge of annoyance. Okay, it was anold robe worn over jeans and a t-shirt that were stained with compost, plantmassage oil, broom oil and a few other things. So what? It was Saturday.

"Come in, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "Have a seat."

There was an empty chair right in front of the broad desk, but Harry didn't wantto sit down. This had the look of a kangaroo court to him and if he was facing

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accusations of some kind, he would far rather face them on his feet. So after amoment's hesitation he did exactly that, resting his hands on the back of the emptyarmchair instead.

"The Headmaster told you to sit down, Potter," Snape snapped as he took his ownseat to one side of Dumbledore.

Harry stiffened and sensed rather than felt Sirius's angry twitch at his HouseHead's command. The loathing between the two men, which had been festering eversince they were at school together, was so palpable that it was almost like an extraperson in the room with them.

Dumbledore seemed unconcerned. "If Harry prefers to stand, I see no reason whyhe shouldn't."

Snape's expression soured even more than usual, but he said no more.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you here, Harry," Dumbledorecontinued after a moment.

"Have I done something wrong, Sir?" Harry asked him abruptly. If he had, hewanted to get it out and dealt with as soon as possible.

The elderly professor peered at Harry over the top of his spectacles. "I don't know,my boy. Have you something you wish to tell me?"

This question seemed fraught with significance but for the life of him Harrycouldn't think of anything that would merit dragging his guardians into the matter.There was the usual stuff with Malfoy, of course, but that was hardly worthmentioning as it went on all the time. And okay, there had been that incident afterCharms ... but Adrian Pucey's leg had been re-attached without any problems, whichwas hardly worse than Ernie Macmillan's horns and he'd had those for nearly aweek. And why was Professor McGonagall here, unless it was something to do with.

Gryffindor had conceded the Quidditch match. It had to be something to do withthat.

"I haven't done anything," he said, but his voice sounded stiff and unnatural in hisown ears. He hadn't done anything ... had he?

Dumbledore looked at him narrowly for a moment or two longer, then sighed

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Harry stared at him. "Why would I?"

"Because you were seen talking to Weasley before the accident," Snape put insmoothly. "Indeed, apart from the House-elves you appear to have been the lastperson to see him or speak to him. Witnesses say that you had a lengthyconversation with him this afternoon."

"There is something of a history of sabotage between the two particular Quidditchteams involved, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall added, giving him a very beadylook.

Harry felt himself go cold. He hadn't been on speaking terms with Ron for nearlysix years and they were in Houses that had a long history of mutual animosity. Noone was going to believe that he was chatting with the redhead simply because they

had suddenly become friends.

And it would be a cold day in hell before he sat down and poured out his heart tothis group of people the reasons behind that new friendship.

Sirius was giving him a narrow sideways look. "Well? Did you?"

"We talked." More than that Harry was determined not to say.

"And what did you talk about?"

Harry's curled his fingers into the soft upholstery of the chair back, hating Sirius'stone. "That's none of your business."

He felt the older man bristle at this and saw the sharp curl of Snape's lip, but itwas Lupin who quickly stepped into the breach.

"Harry, no one wants to invade your privacy," he said kindly. "But you must seewhat a difficult situation this is. It isn't as if you and young Ron threw a few jinxes ateach other in the corridor after an argument. He could have died."

"You think I did it, then?" Harry shot at him angrily.

Lupin blinked. "No, I don't," he replied quietly. "But if you did, I would far ratheryou admitted it here and now, rather than trying to cover it up and making mattersworse."

"And make no mistake, Potter, we will find out who did this," Snape finished

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coolly, "and when we find out, it will go very badly for them indeed."

Lupin gave the Potions Master an exasperated look, for this totally altered thetone of his own statement, but Dumbledore intervened once more.

"Thank you, Severus," he said, and there was the tiniest note of rebuke in the

words. He turned back to Harry, studying his face for a moment. "Harry," he saidgravely, "I must ask you most solemnly did you place the hex on the staircase thatcaused Ron Weasley to fall?"

"No, Sir." Harry's face was flushed with anger and agitation, but his tone wasfirm.

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked him sharply, and Lupin briefly closed his eyes in

frustration.

Harry lost his temper. "No!" he snapped, slapping one hand on the back of thechair and swinging around to face his guardian squarely. "No, actually I lied! I putthe hex on the stairs and I lured Ron there to try and kill him, and then I lied to youand Professor Dumbledore about it, because that's what Slytherins do! Isn't thatright, Sirius? We're all born bad and just waiting for the opportunity to kill someone "

"That is quite enough, Harry."

Dumbledore's calm, measured tones cut through the boy's rage and brieflysilenced him. To his shame he could feel his hands shaking, but he was so tired ofwalking this tightrope with his godfather, of dealing with the constant distance andwariness because he had somehow failed to live up to expectations he had nevereven known existed before they met. And now he didn't know what angered himmore, the shuttered look on Sirius's face in response to his rant, the sardonicamusement on Snape's, the look of appraisal from Professor McGonagall, or thedismay and sympathy from Lupin. Dammit, he didn't need anyone's sympathy.

It was all too much. Once again he was being accused of someone's murder andthis time it was Ron, and he wanted, needed to know that Ron would be all rightbecause he couldn't stand it if someone else died because they got too close toHarry bloody Potter. But it seemed that no one was prepared to give him the benefitof the doubt, because of one stupid, stupid mistake he'd made six years ago.

Harry needed to get out of this room and its suffocating atmosphere, with Snape'ssmugness, Lupin's unwanted empathy and, most of all, Sirius's aura of pained

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suspicion, before he really lost his temper and things started to break under theforce of his feelings.

"You should have left me with the Dursleys," he told his guardian coldly, and wasfurious when a tiny quiver escaped his control. "They thought I was evil incarnatetoo, but at least I always knew where I stood with them."

Then he turned and stormed to the door, muttering the password that caused it tofly open and snap shut again after he had passed.

"Potter!" Snape began to rise, but Dumbledore raised one hand.

"No, Severus, let him go. There is no purpose to be served in upsetting himfurther."

"Upsetting him?"

The Headmaster gave his Potions Master a look and Snape subsided, lookingangry. Dumbledore looked away and raised his voice slightly. "Arthur?"

The door to his inner rooms, which was standing just the tiniest bit ajar, swungopen and Ron's father Arthur Weasley stepped through. His thin, tired face wassporting a rather wry expression as he looked across at Sirius.

"Sirius, you have a lot to learn about handling teenagers."

"Harry isn't the easiest person to deal with at the best of times," Lupin put indiplomatically, but then he looked at Sirius and shook his head. "It would help, youknow, if you didn't treat every conversation with him like a battle to be won. Is it anysurprise that he reacts so badly?"

"Thank you, Remus," Sirius said through gritted teeth. "I'm well aware that everytime I speak to Harry I manage to put my foot in my mouth."

"Be that as it may," Dumbledore said, "we have other concerns at present."

"Was he telling the truth about the hex?" Arthur asked the Headmaster.

"Oh yes!" the elderly professor replied, causing some surprise among the others.He looked at them over the top of his spectacles. "Gentlemen, Minerva, while I have

no doubt that Harry will lie when he deems the situation to merit it, I have never yetknown him to lie to me in response to a direct question."

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"Somehow I don't find that very reassuring," Sirius muttered.

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then sighed and sat back in his chair."Sirius, you have to bear in mind that Harry's formative years were spent withpeople whose greater concern was to install a warped form discipline in him, notmoral guidance. He was left to form his own moral code one which, I might add, he

applies quite consistently no matter how distressing some aspects of it are to thoseof us concerned with his welfare. Harry does not trust adults. Why should he? Thoseadults in whose care he was placed took no interest in his wellbeing. Consequently,he treats all of us with an understandable wariness. He lies when he deems itnecessary to do so, he conceals aspects of his character that he feels areweaknesses and might be used against him, and when he finds himself in difficultiesthe last people he would dream of turning to are those of us who are best situated tohelp him. In short, he is a Slytherin.

"He is not a bad person. But his values are not your values or mine, and the thingsthat motivate him are equally different. And if you ever wish to find common groundwith him, you will have to stop hoping that he will suddenly turn into James, andinstead concentrate on understanding whoHarryis." Dumbledore paused andlooked at Sirius over the top of his spectacles. "It needn't be as hard as you think,my boy. You and he have far more in common than you ever shared with his father."

"This is all very well, Albus," Professor McGonagall interrupted impatiently, "but

none of this answers who did place the hex on the staircase."

"There was no signature?" Lupin asked.

"It had been removed," Snape said acidly. "None too expertly, it's true, buteffectively enough to prevent us identifying the caster."

"That's very advanced magic," Arthur Weasley said, surprised. "How many of thestudents could do that?"

"A small handful of the seventh years and even less of the sixth years,"McGonagall replied. "Unfortunately, that doesn't help us much. Potter is one of thefew, but so are three of my Gryffindors - "

There was a sudden interruption as someone knocked at the door.

"Enter!" Dumbledore called.

The Head Girl put her head around the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Professor, but

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I have Hermione Granger here, insisting on speaking to Professor McGonagall."

The Transfiguration teacher shot a quick glance at the Headmaster, then nodded."Send her in, Miss Prewett."

Hermione slipped around the edge of the door, her mouth forming a sudden "O" of

surprise when she saw the gathering.

"Oh Professor, I'm so sorry - "

"Not at all, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said kindly. "Do you wish to speak toProfessor McGonagall in private?"

Hermione looked a little doubtful, then she spied Mr. Weasley and this seemed to

decide her. "Well, Sir, it's just well, it's about Ron's accident."

"Go on," he encouraged her.

"Well .... some people have been saying that Harry Potter caused it because hewas seen talking to Ron this afternoon. But I don't think it could be, because well,because Ron told me last night that he had arranged to meet him. It was - it wasquite friendly. They were talking in the library yesterday."

She winced a little under the sudden stares of the adults.

"But what were they meeting to talkabout, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagalldemanded.

Hermione gave her an anguished look. "That's the problem, Professor. I promisedRon I wouldn't tell anyone."

Snape made a disgusted sound in his throat. "This is hardly a moment for childishgames of secrets, Miss Granger!"

Her face settled into stubborn, angry lines at this, but Arthur Weasley stepped in.

"I wouldn't ask you to betray a confidence, Hermione, but it's very important thatwe should establish what really happened between Ron and Harry Potter. Is therenothing you can tell us?"

She looked at him helplessly. "It wasn't unfriendly," she insisted after a moment."Last night, Ron made a point of talking to Harry because - because Harry gave him

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"I relyupon you, Sirius," Dumbledore interrupted firmly. "I appreciate that Harryis a complicated young man, but if you do not mend fences with him now, you maynot have another opportunity to do so. He will be seventeen in July and legallyentitled to leave your household and make his own way in the world. Given theburdens Harry already carries the risks he lives with I cannot feel this would be awise course for him."

Sirius didn't look happy, but he nodded reluctantly and got to his feet. "I don'teven know where to start looking for him," he remarked rather sourly.

The amusement returned to Dumbledore's eyes and he reached into one of hisdesk drawers, extracting a folded sheet of parchment. "Perhaps this would be ofsome assistance."

Sirius and Lupin both stared.

"Where - ?"

"Last year I was forced to have a little discussion with Harry about some of hisnocturnal excursions," the Headmaster said reminiscently. "He was eventuallypersuaded to give this intriguing document into my keeping. Rather enlightening, Imust say ... it certainly shed some light upon one or two incidents dating back to hisfather's schooldays."

He looked at the two men over the top of his spectacles and was amused to seethat neither of them had entirely lost the ability to blush.

"I wondered what had happened to this," Sirius commented, in the small anti-roomoutside Dumbledore's office. He looked at the tatty sheet of parchment for amoment, then tapped it lightly with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no

good."

Lines blossomed across the stained surface, spreading rapidly like a spider's web;lines that formed a tiny, moving, changing map of the school, complete with dotsthat followed every occupant as they moved around the building.

"I thought Filch would burn it after he confiscated it," he added.

"Harry had it in his third year," Lupin said unexpectedly. "Severus nearly took it

from him, but fortunately I managed to finagle it away. I gave it back to Harry at the

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end of the year, before I left, but I have no idea where he got it from originally, anymore than I can tell you where he got James's invisibility cloak."

"I suppose I could ask him," Sirius said unenthusiastically, and his friend looked athim.

"No, I won't do it for you."

Sirius glared. "I wasn't going to ask!"

Lupin grinned. "Are you sure about that?" His smile faded. "No, Sirius you haveto do this yourself. Just ... try not to compound the original mistake, for heaven'ssake! Harry has enough problems without carrying guilt for supposedly being Sortedinto the wrong House."

"He is in the wrong House," grunted Sirius.

Lupin sighed. "No he isn't. The Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes like that. Thefact that you insist on assuming that it does is a failing inyou, not Harry. Harry iswhat he is. He's notJames! He's an entirely different person in his own right, andone who can very easily be hurt, despite appearances. Whether the two of you areprepared to admit it or not, he desperately wants your approval. Not mine, markyou, Sirius! Yours." He gave his old friend a speaking look. "You wouldn't be able to

hurt him as much as you do, if he didn't care so much about your opinion of him."

Sirius looked uncomfortable. "I don't want to hurt him, Moony ...."

"Then for God's sake stop trying to find something in him that isn't there. I know ithurts to look at him and see James standing there do you think it didn't punch mein the gut when I first clapped eyes on him? But you've got to try and see anordinary teenager instead. A teenager who, incidentally, is still subconsciouslylooking for a father."

Lupin stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and looked at the floor for amoment. "Dumbledore's right," he continued abruptly. "If the situation doesn'tchange soon, we're going to lose Harry. Some things he said to me at Christmasmake me think he's already got it planned out if not for this year, then as soon ashe leaves school. I don't suppose I have to spell out for you how dangerous thatcould be for him."

Sirius winced. A boy like Harry, who was in search of something someone,anyone, a father figure or mentor was desperately vulnerable to Voldemort and his

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followers. It didn't have to be Voldemort himself, or even one of his immediate circle the Dark Lord had followers the Order of the Phoenix and even their spy, Snape,had no knowledge of. It would be pathetically easy for a newly fledged wizard likeHarry to fall into their hands and he would never even know it was happening untilit was too late.

But Lupin was still speaking.

"I do my best, Sirius, but it's not me he wants. For some reason probably even hedoesn't understand, he wantsyou but you let him down and he's been let down somany times in his life that there's no way he's going to make the first move againnow. You've got to do that, and don't kid yourself that he's going to make it easy foryou."

"Of course not," Sirius muttered. "When have things ever been easy betweenHarry and me?" But that wasn't entirely honest, and he knew it. There had been abrief space, during those few hours in Dumbledore's office after the unmasking ofPettigrew, when they had been able to talk not, perhaps, entirely naturally butwithout the barriers that had emerged after his retrial. Strange that it should havebeen easier to talk to the boy when he himself was shaggy-headed, bearded andcovered in the accumulated filth of thirteen years in Azkaban.

But perhaps that was the key to everything. He hadn't seemed threatening then;

had not, at that point, been in any position of power over the boy, but had ratherbeen a pathetic relic of himself. By the time they met again shortly after Harry'sfourteenth birthday, Sirius was cleaned up and fresh from his exoneration by theWizengamot. He had been a different man; and so, ironically, had Harry. Instead ofthe scruffy urchin who had chased off the pack of Dementors hounding Sirius with aPatronus worthy of a man three times his age, Dumbledore and Lupin brought himto the final day of the hearing cleaned up and dressed in his school robes.

Harry had been confronted by a man who might as well have been a completestranger, and whose first words had been a demand to know what the hell he wasdoing in a Slytherin uniform.

The odd thing was that Sirius had known almost as soon as he opened his mouththat it would be the wrong thing to say, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. Itwas the surprise, perhaps. But he had known instinctively that he had no right to sayit and that Harry would not take it kindly, and everything he said after thatsomehow managed to come out the wrong way too. It had been a disaster that he

simply hadn't known how to fix, for it had quickly become obvious that Harry wasnothing like his father or his mother either for that matter. In the end Sirius had

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clammed up and so had Harry, and the pattern for their relationship was set; stilted,wary silences punctuated by bewildering and infuriating confrontations where Siriuswas certain that they never touched upon the real issues. Quite possibly Harry'soutburst in Dumbledore's office earlier was the most honest they had ever been witheach other.

Which didn't bode well for any conversation Sirius would have with Harry now.

Dragging a hand through his hair, he ignored the look of wary sympathy Lupinwas giving him and looked down at the map. And sighed in exasperation.

"What the hell is he doing with Flitwick at this time of night?"

"Advanced Charms Group," Lupin said promptly, raising a brow. "Do you ever

bother to take an interest in the classes he takes?"

"Not since he jumped down my throat for suggesting that we discuss his NEWTschoices," Sirius retorted irritably. "I swear to God I don't understand him! How canhe throw a wobbler like he just did and then coolly go off to a Charms class asthough nothing happened? It's not normal! James would have been tearing up theQuidditch pitch after an argument like that " He caught sight of his friend'sexpression. "Yeah, yeah, I know he's not James!"

He stuffed the map into his pocket and jerked his robe straight.

"Good luck," Lupin said softly.

"Luck!" Sirius

Documents

Two Households, Both Alike in Dignity