263Chapter 4: The Boggart
Chapter 4
The Boggart
Malfoy didn't reappear in class until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. Harry was deep in concentration making today's potion, a Shrinking Solution, when the doors opened. He turned to see Malfoy swagger into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.
"How is it Draco?" Pansy simpered. "Does it hurt much?"
Malfoy did not answer her, just giving her a look as he walked past her. Harry guessed he had not forgiven Parkinson yet for visiting him in the hospital wing.
"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said idly.
Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said "settle down" if they'd walk in late, he'd have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything Snape's class.
Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table. Harry spared him a passing glare before returning to his ingredients. He had almost everything ready, he just needed to skin his shrivelfig and then he could add them to his cauldron, the potion inside starting to turn into the needed acidic green.
"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because my arm—"
"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape said without looking up.
Ron went brick red. "There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy. Malfoy smirked across the table.
"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots."
Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.
"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."
"But sir—"
"Now," Snape said in his most dangerous voice.
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.
"And sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," Malfoy said, his voice full of malicious laughter.
"Potter, give your shrivelfig to Malfoy," Snape said, giving Harry the look of loathing he always reserved just for him.
Malfoy smirked as Harry took his shrivelfig. He regrettably gave Malfoy his, throwing it at Malfoy as he began work skinning the shrivelfig again. "I should never have cleaned your wounds," he muttered.
"Sorry Potter, can't listen to muttering," Malfoy smirked.
Harry glared at him and spat, "Prick," at him.
Malfoy returned the glare. "Father's not very happy about my injury—"
"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," Ron snarled. Harry looked between the two and added, "I've seen your injuries Malfoy, stop faking it."
"—he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this"—he gave a hug, fake sigh—"who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"
"Shut up Malfoy," Harry said. "My dad's influential to the Ministry as well. One of the best Auror in the Ministry. I'm sure the Minister will most likely listen to him then that slimly prat you call a father."
"Watch it Potter," Malfoy threatened.
Harry looked up at him, pure anger in his eyes as he whispered, "I should have jinxed you in the hospital wing. Your wound would have lasted longer if I did not clean and dress it for you. You want to know pain? I can give that to you."
Both boys glared at each other before the taller looked down at his cauldron. "Thank you," he said harshly. "For dressing my cut."
"You're welcome," Harry said coldly. He turned his attention to the dead caterpillars he was cutting. He was supposed to cut them in half, and he looked over at Ron, who was still struggling to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry felt pity for his friend, so he took Ron's dead caterpillars and began cutting them for him.
"Thanks mate," Ron said, offering Harry a smile.
A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned—
"Orange, Longbottom," Snape said, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"
Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.
"Please sir," Hermione said, "please, I could help Neville put it right—"
"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Snape said coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. Malfoy smirked and Harry turned to glare at the taller teen. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."
Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. "Help me!" he moaned to Hermione.
Malfoy smirked and chuckled. "What you laughing about?" Harry asked, turning his full attention on Malfoy.
"Longbottom, the boy's hopeless," Malfoy said. "I'd swear he was a Squib with him screwing up everything."
"Watch it Malfoy," Ron warned. "Or I'll feed you to the Dementors."
"Just ignore him Ron," Harry said. "He's just a glory-seeking prat."
Malfoy glared at Harry, his eyes shining malevolently. Harry ignored him and focused on his task, helping Ron cut his remaining ingredients. Harry turned his entire focus again on his potion. This is how he is able to brew, his entire concentration needed to be on the potion he is working on, ignoring his hatred for Professor Snape and his irritability with Draco Malfoy, the boy he tried to befriend. Only his potion and Ron's matter. When he finished cutting Ron's ingredients he turned his focus to his cauldron for the rest of the class, letting it simmer when it needed to and mixing when it needed mixing. At the end of the lesson, his potion was the precise acid-green Professor Snape asked for, who only awarded Harry one measly point for Gryffindor.
Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.
"Everyone, gather 'round," Snape said, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he had managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned."
The Gryffindors watched fearfully, the Slytherins, excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat.
There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm.
The Gryffindors burst into applause, Snape looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on the top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.
"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said, which wiped the smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Harry was still thinking about what Malfoy said about the school governors while Ron seethed about Snape. At the Great Hall, Harry spent half of lunch glaring at Malfoy, trying to figure out what his father was planning to do, and debating if he should talk to his own dad. His eyes somehow fell on Zabini, who was talking with Malfoy as Crabbe and Goyle flanked them. There was something about the boy that made Harry feel… weird.
He didn't know how to describe the feeling. Just watching the Slytherin just made his heart start to race, as if it was anticipating something. Harry assumed that that was just him being suspicious and returned to his food.
Professor Lupin-Black wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. He smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had a few square meals.
"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."
As they did so, Lavander Brown raised her hand and asked, "Professor? Why do you have two last names?" She looked as if she wanted to ask that question ever since the Opening Feast. Everyone looked at her, then back at Professor Lupin-Black, wondering how he will react.
Professor Lupin-Black just chuckled. "It's okay, would seem odd for a Professor to have two last names wouldn't it? My last name was Lupin, while my husband's name was Black. To make a long story short, we couldn't decide whose last name we should use, so I just hyphened them together. Though, it is a bit of a mouthful isn't it? 'Lupin-Black,'" he chuckled again and looked around at the classroom. "Why don't you all just call me Professor Lupin? That way, we can all save a second that can be used for class."
The class seemed to agree, their talking now switched to Professor Lupin's husband. Another hand shot up and asked, "Where's your husband!?"
"Home with our ten year old son," Professor Lupin-Black said. "Now, let us hurry up and grab our things."
"Black… huh," Ron said.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"Nothing, the name just sounds familiar that's all," Ron shrugged. Harry nodded and got his things together, puzzled and excited to see what Professor Lupin had planned. He couldn't help but stare at Professor Lupin… Lupin-Black. He had never in his life met someone like him, a man who has a husband? Harry never thought that was a possibility, his father never talked about it, and neither did everyone he knew. Harry didn't even know if there was a word for it. There should be.
He led them along the deserted corridor, around a corner, and down the second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.
"Inside, please," Professor Lupin-Black said, opening it and standing back.
The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filled in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin-Black came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."
He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in her ear."
Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.
Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows. "I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."
Neville's face went, if possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.
"Now then," Professor Lupin said, beckoning the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.
"Nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin said calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a boggart in there."
Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Harry remembered briefly a story his father had told him about boggarts when he was young. This was during James' first year as an Auror, and someone called about a robbery. James arrived, only to see that several boggarts had made themselves at home in the witch's closets and dressers. James was laughing when he told Harry that was the most snakes he had ever seen in one day. "Then! With one wave of my wand, all the snakes became balloons! And they all went phhhhhhhhhhfffff" Harry chuckled as he remembered his father imitating a deflating balloon, which caused the five year old Harry to burst out laughing.
"—and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?"
Hermione's hand shot up. "It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."
"Couldn't have put it better myself," Professor Lupin said, and Hermione glowed. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.
"This mean," Professor Lupin said, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it Harry?"
"Err— 'cause there's so many of us," Harry said, "it won't know what shape it should be."
"Precisely!" Professor Lupin said. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. Now, does anyone know what really finishes a boggart?"
Harry found his hand in the air. "Harry?" Professor Lupin said.
"Laughter," Harry said, his mind going back to the snakes-turned-balloons.
"Correct Harry," Professor Lupin said. "Laughter! What you need to do is force the boggart to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please … riddikulus!"
"Riddikulus!" the class said together.
"Good, very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in Neville."
The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows. Harry watched as Professor Lupin asked Neville what scared him most. Neville admitted it was Professor Snape and everyone laughed. During that laughter, Harry felt a body brush up behind him, and a familiar male voice whispered, "After class… room next to this one. We need to talk Harry."
Harry turned his head around, but only saw the crowd of students behind him, all of whom were focusing on Neville. Harry looked for Zabini, who was standing with Malfoy. Zabini smirked at Harry and gave a small nod. Malfoy looked at Zabini confused, but shrugged it off, turning his attention back to Longbottom, a malicious smirk appearing on his face.
Harry turned his attention back to Neville as well. There was more laughter as Professor Lupin-Black said that if Neville was successful, the boggart Professor Snape will be forced into Neville's grandmother's clothing.
"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," Professor Lupin-Black said. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical. …"
The room went quiet. Harry thought about what feared him most. His first thought was You-Know-Who—a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before he had even started to plan a possible counterattack, a horrible image came floating to the surface of his mind. …
A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak… a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth…then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning. …
Harry shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight.
"Ready Everyone? Neville… on the count of three. One…two…three!"
A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin-Black's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe bust open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville. Neville's arms shook as he aimed his wand at the boggart. "R—r—riddikulus!" Neville squeaked.
There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he wsa wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. There was a roar of laughter as Professor Black-Lupin called for the next student to step up. Parvati stepped forward and there was another crack. Snape turned into a bloodied mummy. "Riddikulus!" Parvati yelled. The bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled and fell face forward.
Seamus came next, and the mummy turned into a woman with floor-length black hair, and a skeletal, green-tinged face—a banshee. Seamus yelled "Riddikulus!" and the banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone. Crack! The banshee turned into a rat which chased its tail; a snake which slithered and withered before becoming a single, bloody eyeball. Dean stepped up and the eyeball turned into a severed hand, who crept around the floor. Dean casted the spell, and the hand became trapped in a mousetrap.
Harry was next. The boggart rolled towards him before another loud crack! sound and the hand became the dementor. Harry immediately felt the drowning coldness gripping his heart. His wand was aimed at the dementor but he could not give voice to the spell. There was a shallow sucking sound, and once again Harry heard the female voice yelling his name.
"HERE!" Lupin yelled, jumping in front of Harry. The dementor immediately turned into a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin-Black. "Riddikulus!" he said almost lazily. The orb exploded, burst into a thousand tiny whips of smoke, and was gone.
"Excellent, everyone," Professor Lupin-Black said. "Well done everyone. … Let's see … five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart—ten for Neville for going first, and ten points to Harry and five for Hermione."
Harry still felt the remains of the coldness as Lupin gave them their homework assignment. The icy feeling had subsided significantly as Harry left the staffroom. He was near the back with Ron and Hermione and said, "I think I left something back in there. I'll meet up with you guys later."
"Alright, see you Harry," Ron said. Harry nodded and waited till Ron and Hermione were nearly out of sight before he went to the room next to the staffroom, which turned out to be a small, abandoned classroom.
As he suspected, Zabini was already there, sitting on the teacher's desk waiting for Harry. "Close the door please?" Zabini asked.
Harry did as he was told, and turned towards Zabini. "What do you want Zabini?" he asked the Slytherin.
He smirked and hopped off the desk. "Did you know, that you smell like apples and cinnamon? Is it a special shampoo you use? Or is it natural, Harry?"
Harry didn't know how to respond. "What?" he said.
Blaise just chuckled and shook his head. "You're so cute Harry," Zabini said, irritating Harry.
"Stop calling me that Zabini," Harry said, taking a step back as Zabini walked up to him. "What do you want?" he demanded again.
"Told you Harry, I want to be your friend, but that can't happen if you keep glaring at me like that," Zabini said softly.
Harry sighed and debated if Zabini was telling the truth. Zabini stayed where he was, waiting quietly as he did so. Then, finally, Harry opened his mouth and softly said, "Sorry."
Zabini smiled a genuine smile and said, "That's fine Harry. … Shall we start this all over? I'm Blaise Zabini."
Zabini offered his hand, and Harry stared at if for a short moment before taking it. "Harry Potter," he said.
Blaise smiled and gripped Harry's hand tightly. "So Harry, did you figure out what I was talking about last time?"
"…about how you, me, and Malfoy are the same?" Harry asked. Blaise nodded. "No. I can't think of anything how I'm similar to that prat! Not that I want to be, after what happened. I mean, I cleaned his wound, I tried to be his friend and he spat it all in my face!"
Blaise sighed and shook his head, "Listen Harry, I know Draco can be a huge prat… but if you want to be friends with him, you have to stick to it."
"Why?" Harry demanded, asking a bit too roughly. When he realized his tone he flinched a little and muttered another sorry.
Blaise just laughed and smiled. "It's alright Harry, it's alright. And well… Draco's under a lot of pressure from his father, Lucius Malfoy. As the sole heir of the Malfoy fortune, Draco has a lot to live up to, and his father is breathing down his neck to keep him on the straight and narrow."
"Let me guess, Malfoy has a plan for Draco that he has to follow, even if he doesn't tell him?" Harry asked, frowning when he realized their similarity.
Blaise nodded, "Exactly. How'd you know?"
"My dad has the same thing for me," Harry admitted. "Get into Gryffindors, make best friends, join the Quidditch team and marry a nice girl. Never said it explicitly, but I can feel his pressure. It's like I have this pain inside me when I don't do something my dad wants."
"That's a bit how Draco explained it," Blaise said. "Expect it was obvious he was going to be a Slytherin."
"Did you know… that the Sorting Hat considered me to be in Slytherin?" Harry asked, not knowing why he felt like sharing this fact.
"Really?" Blaise smirked. "So, not only do you smell lovely, but you were going to be a snake as well?"
"Yeah… scared me when it said it. Begged the hat to put me in anything else," Harry chuckled. "So… Gryffindor."
"Gryffindor," Blaise nodded.
"Funny thing though, I can't bring myself to hate my dad," Harry said. "I mean, it's just me and him. Has been ever since… you know,"—Blaise nodded and Harry continued—"Dad's not a bad guy! He really isn't. I mean, he taught me how to play Quidditch, and everything I needed to know. He even taught me how to clean wounds and was always there to comfort me when I was sad or angry or lonely. …He was always there for me… I love him, but now… it's too much yeah? I mean, he told me that all Slytherins were all slimly evil gits—"
Blaise snickered.
"—but you don't seem that way. And he told me to stay away from Professor Lupin-Black, but so far he seems the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we ever had!" Harry said.
Blaise nodded and said, "So you want to rebel against Daddy dearest… is that the only reason why you're talking to me Harry?" He frowned with mock hurt in his eyes.
"What—no! I'm talking to you because you just seem so…" Harry didn't know how to finish that sentence so he asked, "What about you Blaise? Eh? Any family problems like me and Malfoy?"
"Nope, mother loves me, I love mother, mother tells me to do whatever I want with myself and I agree," Blaise said. "Seems to be working so far… But Draco, that's a different story. His dad, and I know it's not my place to say here, but his dad seems a bit distant from Draco. I mean, it's always his mum sending letters and sweets to him. The last time I saw Draco talking with his father was a very short 'goodbye' on the platform. Beside from that, nothing." Blaise shrugged, "So I can't tell you how he feels 'bout his dad. But I know that he feels pressured by him. I mean, he talks about the bloke so much, he just got to. Father this, father that, Father will be mad... I'm sure you can get the picture."
"So how will this help me befriend Dr—Malfoy?" Harry asked. Blaise smiled and said, "You were supposed to be in Slytherin? I bet he would love to hear that. As for what else… I'm sure you can think of a few things to talk about. Oh, and don't worry about his venom? When he warms up to you, he's practically harmless."
"Err… thanks Blaise… I guess… I'll try 'em next time Malfoy gets scratched and ends up in the hospital wing," Harry said. Blaise laughed.
"But seriously Harry, if you want to befriend Draco, just… tough out his insults. I promise you there is a softie underneath the 'Ice Prince of Slytherin' persona," Blaise smiled.
"Thanks Blaise… I think I'll do that," Harry said.
"Awesome! Then we should be going," Blaise said. "I'm sure you told a horrible lie to Weasley and Granger that could only account for a short time. Come on Harry, let's go."
Harry nodded and followed Blaise out of the classroom. They walked down the corridor together, and Harry couldn't help but notice how close he was to the Slytherin. He could feel a warm glow from the boy, and he liked it. A smile graced his face as he unconsciously inched closer to the Slytherin as they walked in comfortable silence. They parted ways near Professor Lupin-Black's classroom, Harry heading towards Gryffindor Tower and Blaise heading towards the Slytherin Dungeon.
Harry was still smiling lazily when he turned a corner and stopped suddenly. There, in front of him, was George Weasley and another boy. Harry couldn't see the boy's features, but Harry was positive that it was a boy, from his wide frames and muscles. George was the same height as the boy, and Harry watched, shocked and excited as George's hand moved towards the boy's face and pulled him closer until—they were kissing!
Harry gasped softly as he watched George and the boy. George seemed to be enjoying it as his hands moved around the other boy's body, wrapping around chest as the boy's hand lowered to his waist, grazing the top of his butt. Harry's face turned scarlet red, he knew he was invading in something private, yet he couldn't look away as George and the unknown boy kissed. It was enchanting, almost hypnotic to Harry as he watched. For some reason his body started to tense up and his pants seemed all too tight. That never happened before, and Harry started to panic and give away his position when George made a high-pitched squeak. Harry focused and saw that the boy was now kissing George's neck. George made a weird sound, like a yawn but it was higher, as the boy kept kissing his neck.
"Ahh—not too rough," George said. The boy just chuckled before kissing him again. They spun in a half circle, and George's eyes widened when he saw Harry. Harry, tight-pants and red-faced finally seemed to have gained the use of his legs again as he turned and ran, which seemed to become immensely harder with his private part grown.
He ran back towards the Gryffindor Tower and said the password to the Fat Lady, who only raised an eyebrow at his appearance. Harry tried to walk calmly inside the common room and looked around, relieved that Hermione and Ron weren't there.
"Harry!" George said, entering just behind Harry. "Harry—don't run," George said. Harry turned around and stared at him. "We need to talk," George said.
Harry just nodded and followed George as they went to the boy's dormitories. They entered the fifth year dormitories, and Harry followed George as they apparently headed towards his bed. "Harry… what did you see?"
"I saw you and another boy kissing," Harry said, looking up at George. "And it made me feel… weird."
"How weird?"
"My heart started to race and my pants… my pants—" Harry's face became red again, thinking about that.
"It's okay, I get the picture. I guess you know what I am now?" George said.
"Like Professor Lupin-Black?" Harry asked.
George chuckled and nodded, "Yeah. Though, we're called gay. It's when a person of one sex falls in love with a person of the same sex, or at least is attracted to them."
"So you… and that guy…?"
"Are gay, yes. Does that matter to you Harry?" George asked softly. Harry looked up at him and frowned. "I don't know… I didn't know that was—was possible till today."
"That's okay," George said. "Take all the time you need to make an opinion. Do you have any questions?"
Harry looked at him, his head suddenly filled with all sorts of questions he wanted to ask. He did not know which one to ask first. So instead he asked, "Umm how did… how did you know that umm…"
"I was gay?" George asked. Harry nodded.
"Well, around when I was your age, I started to look more at the guys than girls," George said. "And when I jerk off, it was guys I was picturing."
"Jerk off?" Harry asked confused.
George looked at him and laughed lightly, "You are too innocent!" he said. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll discover that on your own. Anyway, I was noticing more things about boys than girls."
"Like what?" Harry asked.
"Well, the way they looks, the way they stood, small details that other guys would never notice," George said. Harry felt a knot in his stomach, realizing that George was describing exactly what he was noticing. Could it be that he was gay like George? Harry was afraid to ask about that, he was afraid to even think about that.
"Why? Is that what you are noticing?" George asked softly. Harry looked up shocked, wondering if George was reading his mind. Slowly, Harry blushed and nodded. George smiled and said, "Don't say anything. Just take your time yeah? Don't need to make any commitment now. Alright?"
"Yeah… thanks," Harry said, feeling relieved. George nodded and a familiar playful smirk appeared on his face. "Excellent. Now, how bout we head down to dinner? I'm starving! And Harry, you know that you can come to me for anything right?"
"Yeah," Harry said.
"Good," George said. "Now let's go."
George and Harry went down to the Great Hall, their conversation thankfully being turned from their serious talk to Quidditch. George was telling Harry how much Wood is pumped for their first match. "We're going up against Hufflepuff first," George said. "Got to say, I'm a bit more excited for this match too."
"Why?"
"Got a bet going," George said smirking at Harry. "If we win, I also win three Galleons."
Harry laughed and George joined him. "Then I'll make sure to get the Snitch in record time."
George laughed and agreed. Harry smiled again and started to feel excited about the Quidditch match as well. It was true that he liked watching Quidditch more than playing it, but if it was with his friends… he couldn't resist a friendly game of Quidditch. And listening to George's excitement for the game made him excited. He wondered if Blaise would be on the Slytherin team, then it would feel exactly like a friendly game, and not at all like a professional game like it had during the past two years.
When they reached the Great Hall, students were still filtering in with them. Ron and Hermione were already there, and when Harry sat with them, Ron asked "What took you so long? Hermione and I were waiting in the common room."
"Ran into George," Harry said, lying easily. "We had a talk."
Ron accepted the response and began spewing about Professor Lupin-Black's lesson. "Did you see the spider fall? It just had roller skates and then it just fell!" he laughed. Harry laughed with him. "Strange though that he jumped in front of yours," Ron continued.
"But it makes sense," Hermione said. "I mean, it was a dementor. Hard to make a dementor funny." Harry nodded, frowning when he remembered hearing the woman's screams again. He couldn't help but wonder why the dementor affected him so much more than the others. He looked up at the staff table, where Professor Lupin-Black sat eating. His eyes turned again towards the Slytherin Table, first to his new friend Blaise, who was talking to Malfoy. When his eyes fell on Malfoy, a weird feeling occurred in his gut. He couldn't understand the feeling at all, it wasn't hatred, or anger. It was something that Harry never experienced before. It was as if a thousand butterflies decided to take wing in his body, upsetting every organ and inch of him, and yet his heart seemed to be immune. His heart, though at first felt like it skipped a beat, felt extremely warm as he stared at the Ice Prince. It felt almost calm, Harry couldn't quite explain it, but just looking at Malfoy, when he is not glaring nor sneering at Harry, he could see how handsome the boy is.
As if on cue, Blaise looked over at the Gryffindor table and smiled at Harry. Harry gave a smile and small wave back before the Slytherin returned his attention Malfoy. Maybe having a Slytherin for a friend wouldn't be as horrible as his father told him. Maybe he was wrong, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if his father was wrong about Slytherins, could he be wrong about Professor Lupin-Black? Whatever the answer, Harry was determined to find out by himself. For now though… Harry thought about what to write about in his letter to his father at the end of the week. He knew he would definitely include the boggart, and maybe a sentence or two about Blaise, avoiding the fact he is a Slytherin, naturally.
A/N: Now the gayness begins. It was always here, but now it begins to show itself. But will Harry and Draco become friends? How will Harry react to his changing body? And what about the other boys?
David-El: Hello again! And yeah, James is a homophobe… It's not much of a spoiler at this point. He's a homophobe who wants to protect his son from everything, and of course he doesn't like his two best friends marrying each other. The precise reason? We'll find out later.
Sasuhinas fan: A foolish fool who foolishly fools other fools for being so foolish? Ten points to Gryffindor if you understand the reference. Anyway, you sure you love Draco after this chapter? He's a bit of a prick.
Littlesprout: Thanks!
Jokul Frosti: Hmm you are right on one cause and wrong on the others. George is not dating Blaise, just his first boyfriend. Yes! First!
I.C.2014: Hello! Yeah, James does not see the pressures he is putting on Harry, but hopefully he'll be able to change his mind! I mean, how long can it possibly take for him to come around? Haha.
4311King: James does not know whether or not Peter is alive. He tired looking for the rat, but cannot find him. No one has seen him in twelve years… so… As for his hatred of Remus and Sirius, he's a bigot.
MinervaMcGee: You are very much welcome! And thanks!
Ern: Harry won't in some areas.