Harry is pleasantly surprised when he returns to the Gryffindor common room, having snuck off for a moment to write a letter to Sirius reassuring him that he's fine, and finds it nearly absent of any of his housemates. There is no raging party or loud cheers waiting to greet him, only Fred and George, and the smile he had plastered on his face slowly softens into something a bit more genuine. "Fred! George!"
"Hello, ickle Harrikins," Fred teases with a jaunty wave, chuckling as George's eyes dart over Harry in search of so much as a hint of an injury. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Why, you're hardly ever in the dorms anymore–"
"Not that we can blame you, of course! Everyone's been right berks about this whole thing–"
"Including us, so we wanted to say sorry–"
"And made sure everyone buggered off so you could relax in peace–"
"Because we really should've known that you wouldn't have wanted a party after your name came out of the goblet–"
"And we definitely should've noticed how unhappy you were–"
"But we didn't, and we're really sorry about it. We'll do better, and–"
"For the record, we totally believed you about not putting your name in. We just–"
"Wanted to try and help you forget about it for a bit, hence the party. But we really just–"
"Made everything worse so… Sorry, mate," Fred finishes with a faint grimace. Most people would probably have a hard time following that, but it's pretty easy for Harry to tell the difference between Fred and George. Fred is more outgoing, and he's a better liar than George by far. They're both plenty sneaky, of course, but George is a bit more anxious about it, a bit more cautious and a bit less reckless.
"It's fine," Harry reassures them with a wobbly smile. He was never really mad at them anyway. "I appreciate that you tried to help, even if it didn't turn out how you wanted it to."
George opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before saying, "We also wanted to apologize about Ron being a bit of a berk."
"He's always been a jealous one, our brother, but–"
"We were stunned speechless when he just up and ditched you like that. We wanted to let you know that–"
"We'll always be your friends, even if he isn't–"
"And that you don't have to forgive him for it if you don't want to. He's being a right ass–"
"Who hasn't even tried to apologize for it so–"
George shrugs and finishes their combined sentence, muttering, "It's his loss, really."
And oh. Harry really doesn't know what to say to that. Words struggle to get past the lump in his throat, and he swipes at his eyes as he finally manages to murmur, "Thanks. Really. It means… a lot to me."
Twin smiles greet him as freckled hands reach down to ruffle his hair. "Of course, of course! And hey, if you ever need us to jinx your cousin again–"
"Then you just let us know." Fred snickers as a wry grin curls his lips. "It was our pleasure."
"Or if you need help with anything else! Like the next task–"
"I reckon that egg has something to do with it?" Fred leans in close, tilting his head curiously. "Don't see why they'd have you keep it otherwise."
"Yeah, it's supposed to be some sort of hint. Bagman said to open it, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. Figured I might do it with the champions later, but…" He takes one look at the eager, curious expressions on the twins' faces and says, "I could always do it now and tell them about it later."
The words barely pass through Harry's lips before he's prying the heavy thing open, and he nearly drops it when the most grating, shrill shrieking that he's ever heard in his life bursts free from it. George snaps it shut with a grimace. "Well, that doesn't seem particularly helpful."
"Some sort of creature, maybe? But would they really do that when–"
"They just had a task involving dragons? Maybe, could be why they're waiting so long in between tasks. We can always–"
"Do some research on creatures that screech like that. Harpies, veelas–"
"That sort of thing, you know? We have to know a fair bit about–"
"Magical creatures for inventing our products–"
"Since so many of them involve using parts from them," George finishes with a contemplative hum. "And you're already bending all the rules you can get away with so–"
"I don't really see why it'd hurt for us to help out. We'll let you know if we find anything!"
"In the meantime, you should get some rest." George pats the top of his head with a fond smile, and Harry is comfortable enough with the twins that the action doesn't startle him like it would with most. "You've had a terribly long day."
He instinctively tries to deny it, but a yawn so large that it brings tears to his eyes escapes his mouth before any words can. "That's probably a good idea," he admits sheepishly. "Goodnight. And thanks, again."
Harry wakes up in an incredibly good mood the next morning. Cedric is going to be showing them to the kitchens after classes today, and that way, they'll be able to have their own little private celebration of surviving the first task and start talking about their next move. His mood sours slightly when the morning owls bring another wave of the Daily Prophet, primarily because Hannah Abbott grimaces as soon as her copy lands in front of her, passes it over to Harry, and says, "You're probably going to want to read this, Harry."
The Boy-Who-Lived Going Dark?
Rita Skeeter
As you all know, the Triwizard Tournament's first task was completed yesterday afternoon, and what a task it was! Dragons, golden eggs, and acts of daring that had everyone sitting at the edge of their seats… especially with Harry Potter's performance.
The Boy-Who-Lived completed his task in the shortest amount of time among all four champions, followed closely by Beauxbaton's champion who appears to have taken him under her wing. But I must express some concern regarding what, exactly, she was teaching him given the events of yesterday afternoon.
Parseltongue has long since been regarded as a Dark ability, used most prominently by You-Know-Who himself, and it seems like the strangest sort of irony that the Boy-Who-Lived is also capable of it. Could he be a ray of hope for all Parselmouths everywhere? Or could this ability be a sign of Dark leanings in our very savior himself?
When asked for further comment, Harry Potter only said, "Yeah, you can have a word. Goodbye! Feel free to quote me on that."
Rest assured, dear readers. I intend to get to the bottom of this.
For a play-by-play of yesterday's task and the final scores, read pg. 3. For further history on Parseltongue and its association with Dark wizards and witches, read pg. 4.
He passes the paper back to Hannah with a confused look. He's not exactly happy about what Skeeter is implying about Fleur there, but this is pretty tame, all things considered. Speculation isn't grounds for libel, and at least she actually quoted him correctly. "I'm not seeing why this is a big deal?" he asks with a quiet hum. "I mean, everyone already knows that I'm a Parselmouth."
"Most of the school knows," Susan Bones corrects him with a faint grimace. "Most of Wizarding Britain does not."
"... Oh." Well, that's mildly inconvenient, but there's nothing for it now. "Oh well. Not much I can do about that, really. No point in dwelling on it."
"I don't see vhat the big deal is," Viktor grumbles with a confused hum. "It vas very clever to try talking to the dragon."
"You keep forgetting zat Britain is full of narrow-minded bigots, Viktor." Fleur's tone of voice is clearly meant to be insulting, and it probably would be it if wasn't also true. "Zey are going to balk at ze thought of Harry being anything less zan a perfect angel."
Cedric snorts loudly at that. "They'd have a heart attack if they knew half of what he got up to at Hogwarts."
"Hey!" Harry protests with an indignant huff, unable to quite repress the amused grin that curls his lips despite his protesting. "Most of that isn't even my fault!"
"Most is ze operative word zere," Fleur teases him fondly. "You are a bit of an 'ellion, non?"
"I'm feeling very ganged up on right now," he mutters with an exaggerated pout. "You're all just as bad as me and you know it. People just aren't watching you as closely."
"... That is a good point," Viktor admits reluctantly.
The vast majority of the Hufflepuffs are laughing under their breaths, but they're laughing with him, not at him, and that makes a world of difference. "Good luck with classes today!" Cedric calls out when they have to part ways. "And remember, meet us near the Hufflepuff dorms after fourth period!"
It feels strange to go back to normal lessons the day after Harry faced a dragon and stared his potential death in the eyes. There's a sort of mental disconnect there that he can't quite make sense of, but he shrugs it off and does his best to focus anyway. Who knows what could be useful for the next task? Well, he rather doubts that History of Magic will be, but there's always the slightest chance, he supposes…
"Harry!" Hermione's voice stops him on the way to lunch, and he looks back with a quiet hum. Ron is standing by her side, and the paleness of his face throws his freckles into stark contrast. He can hear the murmuring around them as several students from their year linger nearby, curious to see what's going to happen between the strained trio that was once thick as thieves. "Wait up a minute!"
He quirks an eyebrow as the pair catches up to him, and Ron stutters, "Harry… Whoever put your name in the goblet, I… I reckon they're really trying to do you in!"
"Finally caught on, have you? Took you long enough." Hermione looks between him and Ron nervously, chewing on her lip as they have something of a staring contest. He's waiting. Ron opens his mouth like he's about to say something before hesitating. He closes it. Harry starts tapping his foot. "I have somewhere to be, so if we could hurry this along–"
"Forget it," Ron snaps with shoulders hunched up to his ears. His face burns a ruddy red with embarrassment and indignation. "Go spend time with your new friends. Who cares about us, right?"
"Ron!" Hermione gasps, scandalized as the whispers around them grow even louder.
"I wasn't the one who walked away." A heavy sigh spills from Harry's lips, weighing down his shoulders and making him feel quite small. "I needed you, and you walked away. I can't forget that. I don't know if I can even forgive it."
"Oh, so all the other times we've been there for you mean nothing now, huh? Awfully convenient, innit? You've suddenly got friends just as famous as you, and you're leaving us in the dirt!" Part of him knows that Ron doesn't really mean this. He's just angry and jealous that Harry has been spending so much time with other people, but… that's no one's fault but Ron's. Harry doesn't have to apologize for making new friends, and it's not fair for Ron to expect him to. Has he always been like this? Has Harry just been blind to it, too happy to finally have a friend to care, or is this something new, brought on by his friend's jealousy left unchecked?
"I'm grateful for all that you and Hermione have done for me. I'll never forget that either, and honestly? I can't blame you for wanting nothing to do with this. Year after year of being in mortal danger… I can't expect you to stick around for that. It'd make me as much of a raging hypocrite as you." Hermione opens her mouth to protest, but he continues, "But… This happens every year, one way or another, and you've already left once. You'll leave again. Whenever it gets too tough, too scary, too much… You'll leave. And I have to protect myself from that, Ron! I can't afford it. Something dangerous is coming, and I can't have fair-weather friends when the storm hits!"
"W-What are you saying, Harry?" Hermione stammers with wide, watery eyes.
"I'm saying," he murmurs with a weary sigh. "That maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore."
Ron scoffs and stomps off, and Hermione just stares at him, looking betrayed. "But… I believed you! You know I believed you, I just–"
"You chose Ron. You expected me to apologize for something that wasn't my fault when he was the one being an ass! You made your choice. It's not my fault if you regret it now." Harry really wishes that they could've had this conversation privately, but there's nothing for it now. The whole school will be raving about the Golden Trio splitting up by the end of the day.
Harry decides against going to the Great Hall for lunch. He's thankful that no one tries to follow him, probably too shocked by what they just witnessed to try, as he ducks through the hallways and slips beneath the Invisibility Cloak as soon as he's sure that no one can see him. His feet end up taking him straight up to the seventh floor without even thinking about it, and he begins pacing back and forth.
'I want somewhere safe that I can hide away in for a while. Somewhere that no one can find me.' A familiar entrance opens across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and Harry steps through it without hesitation. His breath catches in his throat when he sees what the room has given him.
Cobwebs hang in every corner. A thin layer of dust and grime coats everything, including the tiny, threadbare mattress and ratty blanket laying on the floor. An old scrap of paper that's tinged yellow around the edges has scratchy, wobbly handwriting in purple crayon that declares this 'Harry's Room'. He remembers writing it after his first day of primary school, determined to never forget that his name was Harry, not Boy or Freak.
Harry collapses onto the mattress that doesn't even support anything below his knees anymore as his shoulders start to shake. A hysterical laugh bursts free from his lips. Then they just don't stop coming. He laughs and laughs and laughs until his laughter cracks and shatters into a sob. He throws an arm over his teary eyes as he desperately heaves and tries to regain his breath, trembling and sniffling louder than he ever dared to while in the real version of this room.
The most terribly ironic part of it all is that he truly cannot remember a time he's felt safer than he did while tucked away in the cupboard beneath the stairs. His cupboard is the one place that Dursleys never set foot in. Uncle Vernon and Dudley never bothered him because they couldn't fit more than an arm inside of it, and Aunt Petunia never bothered him because she turned up her nose at the grime that coated both him and the cupboard no matter how hard he tried to keep it clean.
This is… This is the safest he's felt in a long time.
It's very difficult to force himself to go back to classes after that realization. Harry walks through the rest of the day in a bleary haze, but thankfully, everyone seems to assume that it has to do with the Ron and Hermione situation, not the fact that he accidentally threw himself headfirst into a bit of a crisis.
He's pathetically grateful that they're visiting the kitchens today. He's not sure he could stomach being stared at by everyone in the Great Hall right now, and it's probably not a great idea to skip two meals in a row when he has any other choice. Harry ignores the beginning of Hermione's desperate plea as he practically sprints through the halls, slipping any potential tails before sliding underneath his cloak again. He has a feeling that he'll be spending most of his time outside of classes like this for the foreseeable future.
Cedric startles violently when Harry suddenly appears by his side. Both Fleur and Viktor look mildly confused, but neither of them flinch at Harry's presence. "Where did you–?! A Gryffindor has no right being so sneaky!" Cedric mutters playfully, ruffling his hair with a grin. It takes everything Harry has to not flinch away from it. He's a little too raw for this right now, and Cedric must have noticed it if the way he withdrew his hand far sooner than he usually would have is any indication. "Come on, follow me."
Since everyone else is either at dinner or on their way to it right now, the corridors leading to the kitchens are completely empty of anyone but them. Cedric only makes a couple of turns before he leads them straight to a portrait of a fruit bowl, stopping in front of it and leaning forward to brush his finger back and forth against the pear. It seems utterly absurd, but given how Harry gets into the Room of Requirement, he isn't nearly as bewildered as Fleur and Viktor are when the portrait swings open and reveals the bustling activity of hundreds of house elves within.
"Welcome to the kitchens," Cedric says with a pleased smile. "We'll have to wait a bit until the worst of the dinner rush is over, but the house elves don't mind taking personal requests if you come to ask them in person."
As if to immediately disprove Cedric's statement, Dobby practically teleports in front of them with a giant smile. "Dobby's greatest friend Harry and his friends be visiting Dobby? Dobby be getting them food right away! What do you be wanting?"
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could I get some bouillabaisse?" Fleur asks with a gentle smile. "I've been missing 'ome somezing fierce."
"Dobby can be doing that!" his friend agrees with a vigorous nod. "We be making it tonight anyway."
"I'll just go with a shepherd's pie," Cedric murmurs with a dreamy sigh. Harry can't blame him for that one, really. He loves a good shepherd's pie.
"Vould it be possible to get moussaka?" Viktor asks with a quiet hum, and Dobby sways back and forth in silent contemplation.
"You be talking 'bout the Bulgarian version, right?" Viktor nods. "Dobby be thinking that Winky knows to make that! He be asking her."
Harry perks up at that, sitting up straighter. "Winky? She works here now?"
"Yes, I do be." Wide, watery eyes look up at him from across the room. Winky still seems unhappy, but considering what happened the last time he saw her… She's doing surprisingly well. "Hogwarts being generous enough to take in a bad elf like me. Though they also be taking in Dobby, so…"
Dobby rolls his eyes and asks, "Do you be knowing how to make Bulgarian moussaka? Dobby only knows the Greek recipe."
Winky looks at him as if he's an insult to all house elves when she answers, "Yes, I can be making that for our guests. Do you be needing anything else?"
Dobby turns to Harry in silent question. "I'll just get a shepherd's pie too. Ooh, and treacle tart, if that's alright?"
"Dobby can be doing that myself," Dobby confirms with a proud smile. "Winky only need be helping with the one dish."
Winky mutters something that is most likely derisive under her breath, but she seems pretty pleased to help them, regardless. Just a bit exasperated with Dobby. "So, have any of you figured anything out about the egg yet?" Harry asks while Dobby and Winky work alongside all the other house elves, either immune to or right at home within the chaos of the kitchens.
"I 'aven't even 'ad the opportunity to open it yet," Fleur answers with a shake of her head. "I fell asleep almost as soon as I got back to ze carriage last night."
"I vouldn't recommend it," Viktor mutters dryly. "Screeches like a banshee. My classmates looked ready to throw me overboard."
"Yeah. It has to be some sort of creature, right?" Cedric's eyebrows furrow in contemplation. "The question is: What creature is it? There aren't a whole lot of them that scream like that."
Harry is quick to offer up what little information that he has, even if it isn't much. "Fred and George thought it might be harpies or veelas, but that's just what came to mind first. They promised to look into it."
That immediately catches Fleur's attention. "Hm… I will 'ave to listen to it first, but I'll be able to tell if zey are veelas, at least."
"I don't think they vill be," Viktor muses with a quiet hum. "Two fire creatures in a row vould be boring. They've got to change it up a little."
"You've probably got a point," Harry agrees with a nod. "So we'll focus on creatures that don't have especially powerful fire magic? And maybe just glance over those to make sure we don't miss something obvious?"
"That sounds like a plan to me." Cedric levels him with a worried look, then, asking, "Are you alright, Harry? I've been meaning to ask. I heard that, well…"
Ah. Harry can't say he's especially surprised that those rumors have already reached his ears. The Hogwarts rumor mill is something else. "I'm fine," he murmurs with a wobbly smile that is no less genuine for it. "I… part of me is always going to miss them, I think, but… It's for the best. We're growing apart. Better to cut it off now than to cling onto it and hurt everyone worse than we already have when we eventually break, you know?"
"Zat is vary mature of you, Harry." Fleur's smile is both understanding and sad, as if she has experience with that exact scenario herself, and given her heritage, Harry is willing to bet that she does. "And I cannot say zat I blame you. Zere is something bigger 'appening with you being put in this tournament, and if zey left you again…"
"It puts them in danger too." Fleur seems far more worried about the immediate danger he was in than the potential danger they were, but Harry couldn't really blame her for that. She doesn't know anything about Ron or Hermione or how much they've done for him over the years."And I don't want that. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me. I'm used to fighting alone, in the end."
"Vell, you von't have to anymore." Dobby returns with their dinner shortly after Viktor says that, and Harry is trying very hard not to burst into tears again as a shepherd's pie is sat down in front of him. "Ve vill be fighting right by your side. So don't vorry too much. The four of us can handle vhatever comes our vay."
"Five," Dobby says sternly as he shakes his finger at Harry in a decidedly chiding manner. "You will be calling on Dobby if you be getting into any trouble. You be promising."
"I promise," Harry sniffles over his pie. There are tissues by his side before the first tear can even fall. He loves house elves. "Thank you. All of you."
"Of course!" Cedric reassures him with a beaming grin. Harry can see why Cho fell for him, honestly. "What're friends for?"
They all enjoy their dinner in the peace and relative quiet of the kitchens, laughing and smiling all the while. Dobby joins them once the other students leave the Great Hall, and it's only with great reluctance that Harry agrees to head back to Gryffindor Tower before curfew creeps up on them. Viktor discreetly passes him a roll of parchment just before they part ways, leveling him with a look that has Harry reading it beneath his Invisibility Cloak as soon as he can slip away.
Potter,
I see you've managed to survive the first task. I hate to admit it, but utilizing Parseltongue was clever, even if it didn't work. I should have thought of that. And the thing with Dobby? Truly inspired. Everyone was so outraged about it; it was hilarious. Though I do wonder how you came to be friends with one of our old house elves in the first place…
But I'm not just writing you for fun, Potter. Slytherins do not do favors for free, and I intend to collect. Meet me in the corridor to the left of the Slytherin common rooms after curfew. And don't try to say that you don't know where it is; you're not that subtle. Crabbe and Goyle aren't nearly as stupid as they pretend to be.
Did you really ditch Granger and Weasley? It's about time. I told you that you'd find out that some wizards are better than others. Better late than never, I suppose.
Bet you wish that you shook my hand now, huh?
'Prat.' Harry scoffs under his breath, but he shrugs his shoulders and makes his way to the dungeons regardless. He can just stay under the Invisibility Cloak until he's sure that this isn't some kind of trap. Malfoy's reasoning seems solid enough, but he's learned his lesson from first year.
The dungeons always give him the creeps. Something about the dark atmosphere and winding hallways that seem to go on forever makes him uneasy, and Harry would be worried about getting lost if he didn't always keep the Marauder's Map on him. He warily eyes the names of several Slytherins nearby, Snape included, but Malfoy is the only one to slip out of the common room entrance once curfew passes them by. Filch and Mrs. Norris are all the way across the castle. It doesn't seem like this is meant to be any sort of ambush.
"I swear to Merlin, if Potter doesn't show up…"
"Beat you here, Malfoy." Harry has the rare pleasure of watching Malfoy visibly startle, and he nearly laughs at the look on his face when Harry shrugs the Invisibility Cloak off. Maybe it isn't the brightest idea for him to reveal that he has it, but considering what he already knows about Harry, which definitely hasn't made its way around the school; he would have noticed that, and the fact that Ron knows about it too… Well, Harry is more worried about one of them spilling that secret than the other, and it isn't Malfoy. "Just wanted to make sure I didn't get seen."
"You have an Invisibility Cloak?!" Malfoy whispers sharply. "Merlin, that explains so much."
"Yep!" he answers with a cheeky smile. "It's gotten me both into and out of a lot of trouble, but that's beside the point. Thank you for helping us. What did you want in return?"
Malfoy seems just as thrown by his easy gratitude as he was last time, eyes narrowed in suspicion as he murmurs, "The Patronus Charm. I'm easily the best in our year at Charms, and it's a travesty that I don't know how to cast it when you do. I want you to teach me. Then we'll be even."
'Huh. That's… a pretty easy request, actually, even if it might take a while to fulfill. I expected a lot worse.' Harry shrugs his shoulders and says, "Sure. I'm assuming you want to keep this a secret?"
"Obviously, Potter."
"Okay. Well, I can think of somewhere for us to practice, but you'll owe me a favor if we use it." He could tell Malfoy about the Room of Requirement, but Harry wants to keep that one to himself for a bit longer. He has something else in mind for this.
Malfoy's eyes narrow in equal parts suspicion and disbelief. "That's not part of the deal, Potter."
"We haven't made the deal yet, Malfoy," he snipes back with a pleasant smile that hid metaphorical daggers within it. Fleur taught him this one. "And I don't care if other people find out. You do. But if you want to risk just using one of the abandoned classrooms and also never get the chance to see the Chamber of Secrets, then that's your decision to make, I suppose."
Silvery-blue eyes glint with intrigue, and Harry immediately knows that he's got Malfoy right where he wants him. "... Fine. But I want to know the terms of your favor before I agree to it. I'm not foolish enough to agree to anything without knowing the details." The 'unlike you' goes unvoiced but not unheard. Harry snorts.
"Help me become an Animagus."
"... Come again?"
It's more of an expression of disbelief than a genuine question, but Harry answers it anyway. "I've been thinking about it ever since that lesson in Transfiguration last year, but it's a really fiddly, annoying process and the supplies I need are hard to come by. Shouldn't be hard for you to get ahold of, though, right? I just keep thinking that it could be useful for one of the tasks, or just helpful in general, and this might be the only chance I get to learn it before something tries to off me again. The full moon's next week, so if you can get ahold of a mandrake leaf by then, I'll have a couple of chances to get it right before the second task."
Malfoy's eyes narrow in consideration as he dips his head in a nod. "I'll do it, but only if I become one alongside you. I may as well if I'm going through all the hassle anyway. How do you plan on teaching me the Patronus Charm while we hold a mandrake leaf under our tongues, though?"
"I was going to ask Fleur to use a Sticking Charm to attach it to the bottom of my tongue," he confesses with a chuckle. "She's really good at them. It's how I've held onto this badge for so long." He taps the badge that is still affixed to his robes with a wry grin, utterly unphased when it shifts to 'Potter Stinks'. He only wishes that he'd been allowed to wear it during the first task, but since they could only bring their wands, it had been prohibited. "That way we don't have to worry about talking or eating without messing everything up. We can just ask her to undo it on the next full moon."
"Clever," Malfoy admits begrudgingly. "Very well, then. You've got yourself a deal, Potter."
This time, when Malfoy extends his hand, Harry shakes it. "Meet me outside of Myrtle's bathroom after dinner tomorrow. We'll probably be down there until well after curfew, but I can sneak you back down to the dungeons with the cloak."
"Awfully chivalrous of you," Malfoy drawls with a slight quirk of his eyebrow. "And here I was thinking that you sounded positively Slytherin while negotiating our deal."
"Well," Harry starts with an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "The Sorting Hat did want me in Slytherin, so that's not really a surprise."
"... Pardon?" Malfoy blinks rapidly, all but gaping in surprise. "I must have misheard you. Why in Merlin's name would you tell me this, Potter? Not worried about the rumors I could spread?"
"You could've started spreading far worse rumors, and you haven't done that yet," Harry points out, feeling a bit guilty for the way Malfoy immediately grimaces in pained remembrance. "Besides," he teases, trying to lighten the mood a little. "Even if you did tell them, no one would ever believe you."
He can just barely make out a stifled chuckle before Malfoy smothers it into nonexistence and plasters on a sneer. "Get lost, Potter."
"Getting lost!" Harry ducks beneath his Invisibility Cloak and beats a hasty retreat, smiling the whole way. Not even a close call with Mrs. Norris on his way back to the tower makes that smile waver. He can hardly believe it, but Harry is actually excited about this.