A Darker Form of Magic

Classes continued on nicely from there, with Harry happy to find that only the Gryffindor and Slytherin heads of houses seemed to have a problem with the boy; though Harry was pleased to see that the latter had begun to tolerate him more during Thursday's potions lesson. Or he wasn't openly trying to find Harry to be overly incompetent to say the least.

Defense Against the Dark Arts on Tuesday was just about as much of a joke as the Slytherins had gone into it thinking that it would be, with the professor stuttering every few words. Harry could help but wonder by the end of the lesson if the stutter was even real or not for how often it occurred. Not that Harry had much time to ponder at all given the thick stench of garlic from within the classroom and a headache that seemed to pulse almost like a heartbeat.

"You should go to the nurse," Pansy whispered quietly as the Slytherins left their Tuesday morning defense class in the second week of term. Harry was holding his head as if it had done something to personally offer him as the group walked to their History of Magic Class. "You might be allergic to something in there if you react so badly to the room."

"Yeah," Blaise said with a mick supportiveness that no one needed any sort of help to understand. "He'll just go there and say what? 'Hey, I'm allergic to the bloody castle, you got anything for that?'" The other boy asked in a sarcastic, but passable imitation of the smaller Slytherin.

"So, what do you think that he should do then, Zabini?"

"He should go to Snape-"

"Hey! I know, why don't we ask Harry?" The boy in question said with a rough voice. "It's not like he's standing right here or anything." Harry looked at Pansy and then at Blaise, his gaze hard. "No Pomfrey, and no Snape either," the boy decided, his voice holding no small amounts of finality.

The other two Slytherins pouted but didn't say anything else. Harry couldn't understand why they seemed to care so much in the first place.

—-

Wednesday morning, the Slytherins woke to find a notice pitiless in the common room about flying lessons with the Gryffindors on Thursday. Harry felt a small smile curve onto his lips at the thought.

"Someone looks happy," Draco said,taking his place at Harry's right side as the Slytherins made their way to breakfast, the group subconsciously placing the pair at the heart of their little mass.

Harry shrugged. "I've always loved the idea of flying," the boy said honestly. He didn't tell the other of the way that he had longed for the freedom of it, or of the dream that he'd had of flying before. It didn't seem relevant; or at least that was the lie that he told himself. At the same time though, he thought that the other snake could at least understand half of it.

Draco practically bea,ed at the other boy's words. "You're going to love it," Draco decided, and Harry knew that he would be right.

The blond spent the morning explaining to Harry about some wizarding sport called Quidditch, but it sounded to Harry like some sort of demented version of football on brooms. Though not even he could deny that there was an appeal to it all.

—-

At two o'clock that Thursday, Harry and the other Slytherin first years hurried down the front steps of the school grounds with little less grace than the group usually held, childlike grins on each of their faces. The sun shone down nicely on the clear September day. The front lawn of the school was smooth, lacking any sign of the tall grass that might get tangled in. It was just another foreign thing for Harry to add to the list of them.

The Slytherins each moved to stand by one of the twenty or so brooms that had been laid out for the lesson, excited chatter breaking out among them at the promise of flight, it flying at all in Harry's case.

The Gryffindors arrived soon after, teetering on the line of late as they always seemed to do, though Jarry noticed that no one from either house seemed too interested in starting a fight as the lions muddled closely to one another. Not with Madam Hooch - a short, gray haired witch with eyes like those of a hawk's - coming closer.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" The witch asked the Gryffindors. "Everyone go and stand by a broom. Hurry up!"

Harry glanced down at his broomstick as the lions moved into place and saw that it was in much poorer condition than he figured that the other Slytherins were probably used to. There were twigs sticking out at odd angles and enough splinters to make the boy not want to touch it at all, Harry found himself copying the other snakes's upturned noses.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch instructed once the Gryffindors were in place, "and say, 'Up!'"

Harry moved his hand over the slender wood on the ground and felt his magic reaching out to it as well, feeling it begging to do something . "Up."

The broom all but lept into Harry's hand at his quiet command. Harry smiled despite himself as he glanced around and found that he was the first to get his broom off of the ground, quickly followed by Draco. The boys snickered as they watched Weasley get sacked in the face by his broom before he got a proper handle on it. The redhead glared at them, but that only made the Slytherins laugh more.

Madam Hooch had the first years Mount their brooms before walking around to correct their grips.

Draco pouted as the witch walked away after all but telling the blond boy that he'd been holding his broom the wrong way his entire life. Harry, Balise, and Pansy hadn't lasted long before laughing quietly among themselves. "Shove off, you prats," the boy said without any real heat to it.

Madam Hooch started to speak once more, but Harry's attention was caught by a swell of magic coming from right in front of him. Neville had his hand on his broom, trying to steady himself, but Harry could see the old broom all but shaking with the other boy's nervous magic.

Looking quickly to the left and right, Harry flicked his wrist as Madam Hooch blew her whistle, draining the broom of most of the magic that had built up inside of it. A wave of sickness rolled over the small boy and drowned him in it, but it wasn't anything that the boy wasn't already used to by now.

Class went uneventfully from there, though Neville's broom never got more than an inch or two off of the ground. Harry couldn't help but think that the other boy didn't look too disappointed by that.

Harry kicked off of the ground with a sense of glee that he couldn't remember ever having known before then as he rose a few feet into the air, the wood of the broom sitting comfortably in his hands.

Harry was right, it did feel like freedom.

—-

Ron walked inside of the castle bitterly as his nose still stung from the hit that the broom had given it. Dean and Seamus were with the boy, the three of them, usually staying together, but that didn't stop the jealousy that arose every time that he saw the Malfoy prick with Harry Potter of all people.

Every child in the wizarding world grows up hearing stories of the Boy Who Lived, the savior of the wizarding world. Ron had been so sure that Potter would be in Gryffindor, that they would be in it together. It angered him to see the 'hero' end up among the house of snakes, all but glued to the side of the child of the man that his father had always hated- for good reason though.

"Your nose okay there, Ron?" Dean asked, seeing how the redhead was rubbing at it.

Ron immediately pulled his hand away in shame as he walked into the corridor in front of the Great Hall. "Yeah, I'm more annoyed by that snake Potter and git Malfoy laughing at me because of it." Ron could see the other two Gryffindors rolling their eyes at his complaint, but that didn't stop him from continuing. "They're two Slytherin prats and you know it, prancing around about the castle with all of the other snakes. That stunt in Potions with the questions and Longbottom's potion mishap," the boy said angrily, his voice rising heedlessly of those who might hear it. "Then there's Malfoy and we know who that git comes from. And from what I've heard they're all friends with the know - it -all Granger from Ravenclaw-"

Ron was cut off from speaking as he was pulled harshly back and pain akin to falling off of a broom bloomed in his jaw. The boy fell to the ground, when he looked up Harry Potter was standing over him looking absolutely murderous.

—-

The Slytherins placed their brooms down in the neat row that they'd found them, knowing that the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs would be coming soon for their lesson as well. The group had a free period before dinner and were planning on going to the lake when they passed the entrance of the school and stopped to listen to an angered raised voice.

"...Slytherin prats and you know it," Weasley said hotly from inside of the hall, his voice echoing out of it with perfect clarity. The Slytherins came to a stop at the mention of their house, though maybe they should have kept walking. "That stunt in Potions with the questions and Longbottom's potion mishap," Weasley continued.

The Slytherins all turned to look at Harry, easily deducing that the redhead was ranting about him even though the pair had never so much as exchanged a hello before. Blaise looked at Harry and shook his head, but Harry only shrugged. He'd grown up on harsh words, a few more from an eleven year old wasn't going to kill him, they didn't even scratch the surface. Truthfully, Harry thought that the other boy should be more worried about Draco, who was all but growling at Harry's side, only stopped by the hold that Harry had on his wrist.

"Then there's Malfoy, and we know who that git comes from. And from what I've heard they're all friends with the know - it - all Granger-"

Harry didn't listen to what else the boy had to say, his feet were already moving with the same speed that he had used to escape Dudley and his friends. This was the first time that he was running towards someone with it though. His hand reached out and grabbed the taller boy's shoulder, pulling him backwards towards him. Harry's had was already drawing back in a mean punch by the time that the other boy had completed his turn, knocking the Gryffindor straight to the ground.

Anger burned in the snake's eyes as he looked down at the lion. It was a surprise to no one when the smaller boy followed the Gryffindor down, another punch landing on the other side of the boy's face.

The Slytherin boy could hear the screams and chants of those around him, but he only cared about the taller boy beneath him who had begun to grapple with the snake, trying to get away from the smaller boy and the blood lust that Harry could feel coming off of himself.

Dark emotion coiffed at Harry's fingertips as the boys traded blows, none of the other first years daring to try and break them up, just waiting for the boy to add intention to the emotion and magic already there. A good punch landed on the chest of Harry's cheek, knocking the boy to the side. Weasley followed him and attempted to hit the other boy once more, but Harry head butted the Gryffindor first.

Then all of the blows and noise stopped.

Weasley quietly removed himself from Harry as all of the other students pulled away from the beaten and bruised pair, save Draco and Blaise who moved forwards to help Harry to his feet.

Once Harry saw who had come to stop them, the boy almost wished that they had left him to pass out on the ground.

Snape stood in front of the four boys with Pansy trailing behind him, a guilty look on the girl's face. The man's eyes were cold as he regarded the bloodied pair, almost arcticily so.

"Weasley? To Professor McGonagall."

"But, sir? Potter-"

"Now, Mr. Weasley!" The angered man exclaimed, his voice rising to a height that none of the snakes had heard before. "Potter! With me."

The potions master had turned before he could see the boy flinch, but Harry knew that Balise didn't miss it at all, not when he had already been watching for it.

Harry followed the professor quietly, his head ducked towards the ground. The only relief that he found was that the teacher was leading him towards the dungeons and away from the adverse magic of the main parts of the castle.

Harry wanted to feel sorry about what he had just done, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so, so all he did was follow the older man and hope he wasn't expelled.

He really didn't want to have to go back to the Dursleys just yet.

—-

Snape watched as the boy walked timidly into the potions classroom, taking the desk that he'd directed him to without so much as meeting the man's eyes. A part of him has still expected for the boy to start bouldering about how unfair it was that he was being carted off like this, soon to be punished, but Potter only quietly stared at his hands, not making any sort of sound- like he thought being quiet would make the professor forget that he was there at all.

He looks exactly like he did when I yelled at him for stopping Mr. Longbottom on the first day of class.

When Snape realized that the other wouldn't speak.

"Care to explain to me why Miss Parkinson felt the need to interrupt the end of my NEWTs class to tell me that you and Mr. Weasley were fighting?" The Professor asked, his voice as cold as he could make it.

Potter mumbled something that Snape couldn't hear.

"What was that boy ?"

And Potter, he... flinched .

Snape felt his body go still at the fact that a part of him had just instilled the same fear in the young boy before him as he'd felt growing up in a house that was never a home. At the fact that Harry Potter of all people was well familiar with such a fear.

But Snape couldn't get into that right now, that could wait until after this... situation had been properly dealt with.

"Just talk me through what happened," the potions master said, surprising himself with just how soft his own voice had grown.

Potter nodded slowly, still not looking at the older man. "We were leaving flying lessons and figured we'd go and sit by the lake until dinner, ya know," the boy said evenly, his voice unnaturally blank for an eleven year old. "I heard Weasley saying some stuff about Draco and Hermione, and I guess that I just lost it."

Snape nodded to himself, knowing that the account aligned with what Miss Parkinson had told him before when she had rushed into the classroom looking as if someone was about to die. "And he said nothing about you?"

The potions master wasn't exactly sure what he had been expecting but he knew that it wasn't the cold, hollow laugh that he was given. But Potter on,y shrugged as if a child was supposed to be able to make that noise. "I've heard a lot worse than that before, sir."

The Professor hummed and looked down at the bloodied boy before him with a careful gaze.

Potter had a gash above his eye from his glasses breaking due to a well aimed punch. Bruises were blooming on the left side of the boy's face, dark ones that likely wouldn't go away for weeks without some sort of potion or healing spell tending to them. Despite it all, the child showed no signs of pain. He only looked used to it.

The man sighed heavily, the faces of too many other children ghosting across his vision. Of a house on Spinner's End. "Hand me your glasses."

Snape watched as the child did so almost robotically, following the orders that he was given, still without looking at the other person in the room. If Snape hadn't seen what he did, he was sure he would have thought that the boy was acting with arrogance.

The potions Professor took the broken glasses and tapped his wand to them silently, watching as the object repaired itself until the glasses looked better than they had before the boy had even stepped on to school grounds. Snape handed them back to the boy and quietly wondered just how this came to be his life.

Fucking Dumbledore, that's how.

When the boy put his glasses back on and finally raised his gaze to meet the potions master's, the child had Potter's looks and Lily's eyes and yet he looked like neither of them at that moment. Looking down at the small, underfed boy with a penchant for fighting, Snaoe felt as if he was looking at a younger version of the wolf instead.

"Thank you, sir," the boy said with a politeness that had Snape wondering if it was natural or more so had been beaten into the child.

"Three days helping Madam Pince shelve books in the library," the Professor decided. "You'll start tomorrow after breakfast."

"Right," the boy said, taking the punishment and not arguing in the least.

"Since that's dealt with, let's get you seen to by Madam Pomfrey..." Snape started but trailed off once he saw the boy shaking his head.

Potter brushed a finger over his bloodied knuckles and shook his head once more. "I'd rather just let it heal naturally, if that's alright."

"Fine," the potions master tiredly agreed, in no mood to fight with a boy that is like the wolf in any way when it comes to injuries. "Just in the future leave the foolishness to the Gryffindors, it's all that they're good for."

"Alright, sir."

—-

Harry walked into the common room slowly, inside of what greeting he would receive, but clapping wasn't it. All of the Slytherins clapped and hollered, smiles plastered across what were usually cruel faces.

They were still cruel, just in a different way.

Gemma bounded over, her curls bouncing as she did. "I do not not usually condone fighting outside of duels," the prefect said sternly, "but," she added, "I'll make an exception for defending a fellow snake."

Hall walked up beside the girl and looked Harry up and down as if checking for any injuries that he might be hiding from view. "I do condone fighting," the boy said, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from the brunette, "just don't get caught next time."

Harry, not wanting to take either side and knowing that he was likely to get into another fight before the end of his seven years at Hogwarts just raised two fingers to his brow in a mock salute and moved to the waiting first years.

Draco moved to meet him first, stopping just before touching the smaller boy. "Don't you dare get all beat up again like this in my account," the blond said, looking over the other boy with a careful gaze.

"I don't know," Blaise said, stepping up beside the blond, "I thought that it was pretty cool."

"What punishment did you get stuck with?" Theo asked, taking Draco's other side, concern in the boy's eyes. Concern for Harry.

It wasn't a look that the boy thought that he would ever get used to.

"Detention with Pince," the boy answered, shrugging once more. He didn't really mind, libraries have always been a safe place for the boy, it was one of the few places that Dudley would refuse to look for the boy when he was Harry Hunting.

Tracey and Daphne came next. Tracey had a small jar of something in her hand and pushed it at the boy. "It's a bruise balm," the girl explained, "figured Snape would be too pissed to remember to give you any." Harry nodded at the girl thankfully as he ran his fingers across the cool glass.

The only first year that was present that didn't join the welcoming part was still standing where the other had been before, stubbing the toe of her boot into the ground in a way that Harry was sure would make her mother scream if she were to see.

"Pansy," the Slytherin boy called out, making the girl stop and look at him, "thank you." The first years looked at the boy strangely, but Harry was too tired to mind. He'd been looked at strangely all of his life anyways. "I think that I would have really hurt him if you hadn't gotten Snape to stop me first."

Harry could still remember the way that his magic had begged to reach out, to do something . He didn't know what, but Harry knew that it wouldn't have been anything good. That it would have been a lot worse than a broken nose.

The girl smiled. "You did a good job with the weasel," Pansy complimented. "He definitely came out of it looking the worse."

"Worse punishment too," Daphne chimed in. "He got stuck with Filch." Harry saw the girl shudder and felt compelled to agree.

Harry fell asleep that night feeling light even as a familiar pain weighed him down. Maybe because it did.