Harry Potter: Sectumsempra Chapter 18 | Seven Years of Chaos Book 2

Harry Potter returns to the Slytherin common room like a storm breaking, and for once the castle doesn’t greet him with fear, it greets him with applause. His friends throw him a welcome-back celebration, pepper him with questions, and force him to retell every detail of the political fight that got him reinstated. For a moment, it feels like Hogwarts might actually be his again.

Then reality kicks the door in.

Lockhart declares Valentine’s Day a school-wide spectacle, unleashing winged dwarfs to deliver singing messages, turning corridors into ambush zones and humiliation into entertainment. Harry tries to keep control, Snape tries to keep order, and everyone else tries not to choke laughing while the castle spirals into chaos.

But beneath the comedy sits something darker. Late that night, a strange black diary starts answering back, and Harry realizes, far too late, that someone has been writing to the wrong “friend” all along.

Transcript

**Chapter 18: Duels, Deeds, Dwarfs, and Diaries—Oh My!**

Harry threw open the portrait door to the Slytherin common room and burst inside, filled with excitement. He paused in the doorway for a moment, soaking in the familiar surroundings he had missed so much.

Suddenly, the room fell silent. Every Slytherin present stared at him in shock before erupting into applause.

“How’d you do it?” Williams called out. “We’re definitely winning the next match!” Flint cheered.

“The Heir is back!” someone else shouted. “Shut up!” Harry yelled, a smile still firmly on his face.

“Where’s—”

“Your dorm,” a fourth-year girl quickly interjected, guessing who he was looking for. “Thanks!” he called back, already making his way to the stairs.

He raced up the spiral staircase and flung open the second-year dorm door with the same dramatic flair. “HARRY!” Hermione, Theo, Draco, Susan, Ron, Luna, Neville, and Blaise all jumped up and rushed toward him.

Thankfully, they stopped about an arm's length away. “How’d it go?” Susan asked eagerly.

“You’ve missed so much homework!” Hermione exclaimed. “Did Dumbledore cry?” Draco inquired.

“Are you back for good?” Neville asked. “Hold on,” Harry laughed at the chaotic questions overlapping each other.

“Merlin. Breathe.” He glanced around the room and noticed it had been decorated with green and silver streamers, balloons, and a banner that read, ‘WELCOME BACK HARRY.’

“You guys must have been pretty confident I was going to come back,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow in their direction.

Blaise shrugged and grinned. “We figured either you would come back or Susan would blow up the castle, so it was going to be a party either way.”

“I knew you’d be back,” Luna said, offering Harry a warm smile.

“Thanks, guys, really,” he replied, feeling flattered that they had skipped classes to throw this little party just for him. They hadn’t forgotten him.

"Have treacle tart if you tell us what happened," Ron said, waggling his brows playfully. Harry laughed and settled onto Draco’s bed, since Hogwarts apparently hadn’t returned his yet.

"Alright, so listen up..." Surrounded by his friends, he recounted everything that had happened since Snape informed him that someone else had been petrified. "You sued the Headmaster?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide as saucers.

"I can’t believe it worked," Ron exclaimed. Draco lifted his chin slightly, saying, "Of course it worked.

My father is a genius."

"Dumbledore’s going to hate you," Neville said, a hint of anxiety in his voice. "Tell me something I don’t know," Harry replied with an eye roll, snatching a pastry from the overloaded plate.

"Where’ve you been, mate?" Ron asked. "Snape was pulling his hair out trying to find you."

Harry hesitated for a moment.

"Here and there," he said evasively. "But mostly with Snape these last couple of weeks."

"I’m glad you’re back," Luna said, offering him a soft smile.

Harry grinned back at her. "I am too."

"Theo said we aren’t supposed to go looking for the Heir or Slytherin’s Chamber," Theo said, pouting slightly.

"Do you even know what kind of historical artifacts could be in a place like that?"

"I don’t care," Harry shrugged. "Whoever the Heir is, if they leave us alone, I say we leave them alone.

But if anyone in Slytherin asks, I’m still the Heir," he added, casting a serious look at the others. He wasn’t about to lose the fear and respect of the rest of Slytherin just because no one else was willing to claim it publicly.

Harry had faced attacks, been yelled at, expelled, and spent two weeks alone in London—all because people thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. He’d earned the right to enjoy the perks that came with it.

"But you weren’t here for the last attack," Hermione pointed out logically. Harry leaned in towards her, ready to respond.

His bushy hair swished as he lowered his voice dramatically. “It’s called magic, Mione.” He straightened up and grinned at her.

“And that’s my official stance.”

“What about Dumbledore?” Blaise asked. “I hoped he’d be arrested instead of the Groundskeeper,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Hopefully, there’ll be another attack, and at least Dumbledore will get fired. I think Draco’s dad is working on a petition from the Governors to make that happen.” Harry recalled how Mister Malfoy had confided in him about having some serious blackmail on most of the other Governors of the Hogwarts Board and that he wasn’t above using it to get them to agree.

“You shouldn’t hope for another attack,” Hermione said sharply. “The Muggleborn students are terrified, and some of them are talking about withdrawing.”

“Not my problem,” Harry said.

“Muggleborns didn’t have an issue with me being expelled, did they?” 

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, clearly at a loss for a counterargument. “Enough about all that,” Susan interjected with a wave of her hand.

“Let Neville tell you about the fight he had with Seamus Finnigan!”

Harry spent the rest of the morning in the dorm, laughing and chatting with his friends. It felt good to be back.

However, as he returned to classes after lunch, Harry began to regret his decision to come back to Hogwarts—just a little. Many students approached him to apologize for blaming him for the attacks, but there were still a fair number who shot him distrustful looks.

He didn’t mind the distrust anymore, but he was starting to miss the quiet peace of Snape’s house. He hissed curses in Parseltongue at the students who still whispered about him, enjoying the way they paled at the sound.

“You’re insane,” Ron laughed during their free period after a group of frightened Ravenclaws ran off. “They were apologizing!” Draco said.

“I don’t care. I don’t like them,” Harry replied simply.

He had recognized the dark-haired Ravenclaw seeker, Cho, and had no interest in engaging with her. "An apology from that twit," Ron muttered.

“Incoming,” Blaise added quietly. Harry looked up from the Transfiguration textbook he’d been copying notes from.

McGonagall expected him to catch up quickly, she’d said. He spotted two of Ron’s brothers heading their way.

“Ugh, what do they want?” Ron groaned. “Little snakes!” one of the redheaded twins exclaimed, stopping to stand in front of them.

“And the Master Snake himself!” the other one said, grinning at Harry. “What do you want?” Harry asked coolly, still irritated from their previous duel.

“We came to apologize, little Master Snake,” one of the twins said. “We had no idea talking to snakes was one of your hidden powers,” the other one added, waggling his brows in a way that reminded Harry of Ron.

“He doesn’t accept, go away,” Ron said tersely. The twins exchanged glances, silently communicating something before turning back to Harry with matching grins.

“If you won’t accept an apology—”

“How about a rematch?”

“Why would you want a rematch?” Theo asked incredulously. “Harry will kill you.”

The twins shrugged.

“Maybe he will—”

“—maybe he won’t.”

“But we’ll need a rematch to find out.”

“Fine,” Harry agreed quickly. “But fair warning: if you summon a snake again, I’ll tell it to bite you, won’t I?”

“As if we’d use the same trick twice,” one of them winked.

“Especially since it didn’t work the first time,” the other one muttered. “When and where?” Harry asked, eager for a chance to finish the duel they’d started.

It had been exhilarating to duel two students at once; it was much quicker-paced than facing just one. Even though Lestrange and Dolohov had stronger spells than Fred or George, the twins worked in tandem, making up for power with sheer creativity.

Harry was confident he’d win, but it would be worth drawing it out to see the ideas they’d reveal. The twins looked at each other again, their silent communication continuing.

“McGonagall will flay us if we have another duel in the common room,” Ron warned. “Plus, no snakes allowed in the lion's den,” one of the twins chimed in.

“How about our common room?” Ron suggested with a smirk. “Nobody will say anything if it’s Harry.”

“Plus, who would complain about watching two Gryffindors get their arses kicked?” Draco added, grinning.

“Excellent,” one of the twins exclaimed. “We’ll do it right after dinner then,” the other twin said.

“Toodles, Snakies!” they called as they dashed off, just as the bell rang for the next class. “Oh, they’re going to die,” Ron said, happily grabbing his bag from the ground beside him.

“They’re your brothers,” Blaise pointed out with a raised brow. “Surely you don’t want Harry to kill them.”

Ron shrugged and led the way toward the defense classroom.

“They always think it’s funny to prank me. So I figure they deserve whatever they have coming.”

Harry sat down next to Susan and began to wonder if having brothers was really as brilliant as he had thought.

“So you won’t be mad if I hurt them?” he checked with Ron. “Who are we hurting?” Susan whispered.

“Fred and George Weasley,” Harry replied quietly. “It’s a rematch tonight after dinner.”

“I mean, don’t hurt them too badly, you know?” Ron said sheepishly.

“They’re prats, but they’re loads more fun than Ginny or Percy.”

“Fair enough,” Harry agreed easily. They talked about some of the coursework Harry had missed while he was away.

It didn’t sound like much more than stories about Lockhart battling werewolves and ghouls. “Harry, how are you?” Lockhart said, striding up to Harry’s table.

“I’m glad you’re back! Of course, I knew all along you were innocent.

I must have said it a million times! A good kid like you?

No way you were the Heir of Slytherin!”

Harry looked up at Lockhart and smiled as sweetly as he could, which, admittedly, wasn't very sweet at all. “Go away before I cut your head off,” he hissed in Parseltongue.

Lockhart turned pale and stumbled backward so quickly that he tripped over Draco’s chair and landed on the floor. The Slytherin boys, along with Susan, erupted in laughter.

“Mate, I’m going to remember that forever,” Ron howled as Lockhart excused himself hastily. “You know he’s going to fix his hair,” Susan said, wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks.

“You’re a prat,” Draco said fondly. “I’m your prat,” Harry replied with a cheeky grin.

Lockhart returned to the room, his hair once again sleekly styled. Draco didn’t say anything, but he did stick his tongue out at Harry.

During dinner that night, the entire Hall buzzed with whispers. Not only about Harry and his friends returning to their usual spot at the table, but also about the upcoming duel.

Many Slytherins had fallen victim to Fred and George’s pranks and were eagerly anticipating some revenge. The Slytherin Quidditch team was hoping Harry would injure the twins enough to put them in the Hospital Wing until their final match against them, which was still six weeks away at the beginning of March.

“Get your bets in!” Ron shouted down the table. “Odds are 7-1 on Harry winning outright, 10-1 on a draw, and 3-1 on Harry leaving a facial scar!” 

“Why a facial scar?” Neville asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“People are starting to think it’s Harry’s signature move,” Blaise said with a smirk, glancing in Lestrange’s direction. “Why are the odds better that I’ll leave a scar than that I’ll win?” Harry questioned.

Spending time with Ron, Theo, and Blaise had taught him much more about gambling than he ever expected to learn. Theo shrugged.

“We don’t set the odds; the bets placed determine them. They could go up or down before the duel.” 

“Can I place a bet?” Hermione asked.

“You’re going to bet, Granger?” Draco replied, raising an eyebrow. Harry was surprised since Hermione usually lectured them for betting.

She raised her nose slightly as she replied, “I figure it’s a sure thing, and I need some new books.” 

“Of course you can, Mione,” Ron said quickly. Hermione pulled five gold coins from her pocket.

“Five galleons on Harry winning outright.” 

Susan poked Harry lightly in the arm. “If you lose, you’ll owe Hermione new books.” 

Luna patted Hermione’s hand.

“He won’t lose.” 

“Thanks, Luna,” Harry said. “I’ll do my best.” 

Hermione and Ron both shot him steely looks, making Harry think Ron had a lot of gold riding on this duel.

He wasn’t sure if he should feel flattered that Ron was backing him over his brothers or a little worried by the ruthlessness that would lead him to hope Harry won. He decided to settle on being impressed and mentally vowed to put on a good show without critically injuring the twins… unless, of course, they deserved it.

That night, Fred and George entered their common room to a sea of green-clad students booing and hissing at them. Harry admired their ability to keep smiling, and they even made an audacious bow.

“Before we begin—” 

“—Dearest Master Snake—” 

“—we want to know the terms of the duel.” 

Harry blinked at them for a moment. “What do you want?” he asked.

He didn’t usually duel for ‘terms’; he fought because he was challenged. The twins exchanged glances before giving Harry identical grins.

“We want you to help us with a project—” 

“—we need your snaky powers.” 

“If you win, you just want me to talk to a snake for you?” Harry asked slowly. “Yep.” 

He grinned at them.

What a lame thing to ask for. “Deal.

But when I win, I want one no-questions-asked favor from each of you.” 

Harry heard Ron snort behind him. He knew Ron was thinking about how he still owed Harry a favor under the same terms.

“We won’t kill anyone,” one of the twins said quickly. “And we don’t really want to be expelled just yet,” the other added.

“Oi!” Ron called. “What’re you—”

“What are you saying about Harry?” Harry ignored the comment and shrugged at the twins.

“Fair enough. No asking you to kill anyone or do anything that would get you expelled.

Anything else is fair?” 

They both nodded and extended their hands for a shake. “We’ll work on the honor system here,” he said coolly, stepping back from their offered hands.

“Alright, listen up!” Theo yelled. “All bets are closed!” 

“The rules of the duel are simple for Gryffindor’s sake: no illegal spells, nothing fatal,” Blaise added.

“No seconds. If Harry is unable to continue, the duel ends!” Draco shouted, a smirk on his face that suggested he found that scenario amusing.

“Are you guys ready?” Neville asked. Harry backed away from the twins and conjured a magical shield around the three of them.

He nodded at the twins as they made exaggerated bows. “Ready?

Go!” Susan yelled. Harry immediately danced out of the way of two oncoming stunners.

One of the twins dodged the spell, but the other was hit with a light jolt of pain. “Master Snake and his silent spells,” the hit twin exclaimed, quickly moving to evade Harry’s next attack.

“He’s a sneaky, sneaky snake,” the other twin chimed in, launching three rapid-fire spells at Harry to protect his brother. “Can anyone tell you two apart?” Harry asked casually, flicking his wrist to block their spells with ease.

“Nope, not even—” 

“—our own mother.” 

Harry thought how convenient it would be to have an identical partner to strategize with and, if necessary, to shift the blame onto if they ever got caught. “Nice,” he said, lazily sending a jinx at one of the twins, which landed perfectly and dyed his red hair a bright neon green.

“Oi!” the affected twin yelped. “You’ve killed him!” 

Harry could hear the Slytherins laughing and egging him on, so he gave the twins a small shrug as he continued to deftly dodge and dispel their spells.

“I’ll call you Red and Green,” he said with a grin. He laughed as he hit Red with a new curse he had learned, one that would temporarily blind him.

“Finite Incantatem!” Green yelled, just as Harry had hoped he would. With a swift motion, Harry threw a cutting curse at Green, grinning as it made contact with his knees.

Green howled in pain as the spell sliced through his trousers and opened a wound on his skin. “You guys fight well together, but that makes you vulnerable and weak,” Harry teased, his laughter ringing through the air.

“Yeah?” Red panted, launching a series of creative transfiguration tricks at Harry. One of his spells conjured water, which then transformed into knife-shaped icicles.

“I suppose you don’t have anyone you’d be willing to get cut open for?” 

“Shut it,” Harry snapped, sending a more painful shock towards him while deftly dodging an incoming spell from Green. “Ooh, did we hit a nerve?” Green laughed, his voice light, and his dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Does little Master Snake wish he had a twin?” 

“Or just someone to call family—” Red began, but Harry cut him off, hitting Green with a strong cutting spell. It missed his shoulder but caught the side of his head as Green ducked away.

“Goddammit,” Harry growled. “Look what you made me do!

I was trying not to slice your face.” 

Green snarled, clearly irked; Harry had struck a nerve—probably several of them on the side of his head. The twins were starting to tire.

They couldn’t keep this up for much longer and were beginning to repeat some of their original spells and tricks. “Don’t forget the terms!” Harry called out as he countered their weak hexes with freezing rain blown right in their faces.

“If you change your mind about that favor, it won’t be pretty.” 

Before the twins had a chance to respond, Harry focused intently, pulling hard on his core and channeling as much magic as he could into his request. “Give me their wands.

Levitate them in place.” He considered, just for a moment, all the ways he had heard Fred and George humiliating his fellow Slytherins. “Levitate them in place, upside down.” 

With ease, Harry caught the wands mid-air.

their two nearly identical wands as they yelped, lifted into the air by their ankles, their robes flapping down around their faces. “Winner—HARRY POTTER!” Draco shouted, his voice drowned out by the deafening applause and cheers from Slytherin.

Harry slowly approached the twins, casually twirling their wands in his hands. “I might not have a family,” he whispered, just loud enough for them to hear, “but I could take you down with a flick of my wrist.” 

With a flick of his wrist, he dropped them to the floor—probably rather painfully—and tossed their wands down in front of them.

“And now,” he said with a crooked grin, “you both owe me a favor.” 

The twins groaned as they slowly got to their feet and extended their hands to Harry once again. “That was a low blow, mate,” Green said.

“Heat of the moment accident,” Red added. “Good showing there—” 

“—friends?” Harry laughed, noticing how Green, already pale from blood loss, seemed to go even paler beneath his freckles.

“No thanks,” Green drawled. “But if you ever think about joining a gang, let me know.” 

Harry thought he heard Ron groan behind him, but it could have been Draco too.

“Sounds good, little Master Snake—” 

“—If you’ll excuse us—” 

“—We have a medi-witch to lie to.” 

Fred and George left the common room with as much flair as they had entered. “Thanks for not killing them, mate,” Ron said with a broad smile.

“And thanks for the new books I’m about to order!” Hermione chimed in, counting her winnings. Harry grinned as he watched Ron and Theo distribute coins and winnings to the surrounding students.

However, his smile faded slightly when he noticed Ginny Weasley standing against the wall, clutching a notepad and glaring at him with tear-streaked cheeks. “Did you get hit?” he asked her kindly.

He didn't really care, but he wouldn’t feel great about himself if he had accidentally hurt a little girl with a spell meant for a much larger target. Ginny shot Harry a fierce scowl, and he couldn't help but notice that her eyes were the exact same shade of brown as the twins’.

“I hate you,” she hissed. “You’re a monster.” 

Harry stood there, shocked into silence as Ginny turned on her heel and ran away.

"You’re a monster. You’re a monster.

You’re a monster." He tried to blink back the white spots clouding his vision while tucking his trembling fists under his armpits. “Harry, are you alright?” 

He shifted away from the person who approached him and blinked a few times, finally realizing it was Luna.

“F-fine,” he muttered. “Just tired.” 

Luna hummed and gave him a disbelieving look.

“Professor Snape is in his office,” she said kindly. Snape.

Harry glanced up at his other friends, who were distracted by the mini-party the fourth-year Slytherins were throwing. “If you go now, nobody will notice,” Luna suggested as she danced slowly towards the other students.

Harry nodded gratefully and made his way toward the portrait door, sticking to the edges of the room to avoid drawing attention to himself. He slipped out and quickly headed to Snape’s office.

He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted from Snape, but at the very least, he could get a potion to help clear his head. He knocked softly on the professor's door, tucking his trembling fist back under his arm.

"I hate you. Monster.

You’re a monster." 

“Mister Potter,” Snape said as he opened the door. “Come in.” 

Harry took a few shaky steps into the professor's office, glancing around quickly to ensure it was just Snape.

“Have a seat. Would you like a drink?” 

Harry thought Snape’s voice sounded fuzzy, as if something was muffling his ears.

He shook his head a few times, trying to displace whatever was distorting his hearing more than to answer the question. “Sit,” Snape instructed, gesturing towards a chair in front of his desk.

Harry moved instinctively toward Snape. “Are you injured?” Snape asked, his voice low and fuzzy.

Was he? Harry felt strange but not hurt, so he shook his head.

“Are the Weasley twins alive?” Snape inquired, raising an eyebrow. Harry nodded quickly.

He had seen them leave. They were hurt but still alive.

“Monster. I hate you.

Monster.” 

Snape flicked his wand, and Harry flinched, not ready for a confrontation. He didn’t want to hurt Snape.

He wasn’t a monster. “I hate you.” 

“Drink,” Snape instructed, pushing a vial he had summoned toward Harry.

Harry glanced at the bottle, then back at Snape, hesitating before shaking his head. It wasn’t the familiar orange dreamless sleep potion that Snape made just for him, and his mind felt too cluttered to identify the light purple liquid.

“Calming Drought,” Snape said, pulling the vial back and taking a sip. “Just a calming drought, Potter.” 

Snape let Harry stare at him in silence for a few moments before Harry slowly reached for the bottle and tipped it back in one go.

“Now, what can I help you with this evening?” Snape asked, his tone clear and steady. “You fixed my hearing.

I thought it was a calming drought!” Harry accused, rubbing his now functional ears. “Was your hearing previously not working to its usual standards?” Snape replied, raising an eyebrow.

“You know it wasn’t! You did something!” Harry snarled, feeling foolish for trusting any potions from anyone.

“I’m an idiot. Monster.

You’re a monster. I hate you.” 

“I believe you were on the brink of a panic attack,” Snape explained slowly, maintaining a calm demeanor.

“It’s not uncommon for your hearing or vision to be affected during such moments. As the Calming Drought lowers your heart rate, it also impacts the fight, flight, or freeze section of your brain, restoring any panic-induced symptoms.” 

Harry straightened in his chair and rolled his shoulders once to relieve some of the tension.

“I was not—”

“I wasn’t having a panic attack,” Harry lied. “I was just mad.”

Snape didn’t challenge his obvious lie but simply leaned back in his seat.

“Why were you angry?”

Harry shrugged. He wasn’t really mad; he just didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling.

“Do you think I’m a monster?” he asked instead. “I do not,” Snape replied evenly.

“Do you believe you are a monster?”

Harry reached out for the desk and traced the wood grain with his thumbs. You’re a monster.

“Ginny Weasley does,” he said. “Do you?”

Harry shrugged again.

“I could hurt you really badly,” he admitted quietly, not looking up at Snape. “I could probably kill you.”

“Would you?” Snape asked, his tone as casual as if they were discussing homework.

Harry considered it and decided to answer honestly. “If I needed to,” he said.

“But not because I’m a bastard or because I irritate you by asking about your ‘feelings’?”

He glanced up and saw that Snape’s eyes were warm, and he looked completely calm. “Probably not,” Harry conceded.

“Why does Ginevra Weasley believe you to be a monster?” Snape inquired. “I dunno,” Harry replied, feeling more frustrated now.

“I didn’t hurt her; I checked! She just said...

said she hates me. And I’m—I’m a monster.”

Snape furrowed his brows together.

“Did you grievously injure her twin brothers?”

Harry cocked his head at the man. “How’d you know about that?”

“Surely you didn’t believe that the announcement of a rematch between Harry Potter and the Weasley twins would stay a secret from the professors,” Snape drawled, a hint of amusement flickering across his face.

“In fact, Minerva bet that they would win.”

“She’s daft then,” Harry said smugly. “I hope she lost a ton of money betting against me.”

Snape’s black eyes sparkled as he returned Harry’s satisfied look.

“She did.”

Harry nearly laughed when he realized it must have been Snape she bet against. “I digress, though—did you...”

“Ginevra witnessed you terrorizing her siblings during your duel?” Snape asked, his voice steady.

Harry thought back to the duel and shrugged. It hadn’t been worse than the first night, and she’d been there for that too, hadn’t she?

“Not really,” he replied. “I mean, they were bleeding a bit, but they offered to be friends when it was over.

If they didn’t hate me, why would she?”

Snape looked surprised again. “Little Ginevra Weasley, who barely speaks in class and gave you moon eyes during her sorting, said she hates you and believes you are a monster?”

Harry nodded, feeling sick hearing it repeated.

“I hate you, you’re a monster,” he whispered. “That’s what she said.

And—what if she’s right? That’s what Dumbledore thinks too, right?

That I’m evil and dark and a monster.”

Snape leaned over his desk slightly, his eyes growing intense as he locked onto Harry’s. “Albus Dumbledore and Ginevra Weasley are imbeciles.

I have told you this before, and I will likely have to repeat it multiple times throughout your life: people will always fear what they do not understand. Their gross misunderstanding of your nature does not change who you are.”

Harry broke their eye contact and looked down at the desk.

“The Dursleys hated me and they kicked me out. I think…” He clenched his eyes shut, confessing what had been weighing on him.

“I think most people will hate me eventually. And then I’ll just be alone again, won’t I?”

“You believe I will eventually come to hate you and force you out of our home,” Snape said, once again demonstrating his uncanny ability to guess Harry’s exact thoughts.

Harry gave a slight nod, keeping his eyes firmly closed. Snape could curse him for all he cared; it would probably be better than having to look at the man while confessing this horrible vulnerability.

“Accio, documents box,” Snape called quietly. Harry slowly opened his eyes to see what Snape had summoned.

Snape didn’t sound like he was continuing the conversation anymore. He grabbed the black metal box that flew toward him and placed it on his desk.

Tapping it once with his wand, the lid sprang open. Snape reached into the box, his hand disappearing entirely, which made Harry suspect it was magically larger on the inside than it appeared.

Snape pulled out a document. “Gemino,” he said, tapping the document he had just scrawled on and setting the newly formed copy aside.

He tapped the original three times with his wand, and it vanished. Harry watched in silence, unsure of what was happening.

When he was confused, it was always best to observe quietly. “Here,” Snape said, offering Harry the duplicated parchment.

“This is for you. The original has been filed with Gringotts.” 

Harry slowly took the parchment, staring uncomprehendingly at the first few lines.

“Title Deed for Spinner’s End Cottage in Cokeworth, United Kingdom?” he read slowly. “I don’t get it.” 

Snape tilted the parchment back toward himself and pointed at a line Harry hadn’t read yet.

“Owner: Harry James Potter.” 

Harry's eyes shot up to Snape’s. “What the—?

You gave me your house?” 

Snape nodded, calm as ever. “I did.

It is now your home, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would allow me to continue residing there with you.” 

Harry thrust the paper back at Snape. “You can’t give me your house,” he sputtered.

“It’s yours!” 

“Actually, it is now yours. And you can never be evicted from your own home.” 

“You— you could have just said that!

You didn’t need to give me the whole house!” Harry exclaimed, his mind racing with Snape’s actions. “Would you have believed me?” Snape asked.

Harry hesitated, and that seemed to be all the answer Snape needed. “Of course you wouldn’t have.

Why would you? You were evicted by your blood relatives, expelled from your school.

Why would…”

“Do you really believe you’ve found a permanent home just because I say so?” Harry wanted to protest. He trusted Snape more than he trusted Susan, maybe even more than anyone else.

But Snape was right. Harry could be kicked out of anywhere at any moment.

“Now you have a permanent residence that you can never be evicted from,” Snape reiterated. “The house is yours.” Harry glanced down at the deed again.

Mine, he thought, feeling a fierce sense of happiness. Mine.

“I can pay you for it,” he offered quietly. “I’ve got loads of gold, and Griphook said I’ll triple it before I graduate.

I can pay you.” 

Snape gave Harry an odd look. “I spoke with Madame Bones yesterday.

She believes that my guardianship over you will be finalized by the end of February. You should know that as my ward, I would have left you my house in my will regardless.

I require no payment.” 

“But wouldn’t you leave it to your heirs?” Harry asked. “Mister Malfoy said that’s usually what people do.” 

Snape gave Harry a wry grin.

“Do you think I’m hiding my many biological heirs from you?” 

Harry blushed and looked down at the paper again. “No, sir,” he mumbled.

“But I mean, you’re young, aren’t you? You could have some, and they’d want your house, wouldn’t they?” 

Snape snorted, and Harry looked up to see a faint blush on his face, though he seemed terribly amused.

“Despite the youthful age you think I have, I am quite content with my lack of miniature Snape spawns,” he said drily. “I apologize if I gave you the impression that I was a fan of children who are not you.” 

Harry cracked a small grin.

“If they aren’t Gryffindors, I think you’d be okay,” he said. “As if I would produce anything less than perfect Slytherins,” Snape huffed.

“Perfect potion-brewing Slytherins.” 

“Potion-brewing Slytherins who don’t get to inherit a house,” Harry said, shaking the deed again. “They’ll probably poison—”

“Which is precisely why I shall not be having any,” Snape said lightly.

“Merlin forbid I have to continuously dodge poisoning attempts by my own offspring.” 

Harry laughed and gave Snape a nervous smile. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

“I can sign whatever you want so it’s your house again.”

Snape waved his hand and relaxed back in his chair. “As I said, I would deeply appreciate not being evicted from our home, but I believe that is a much smaller concern than you eternally worrying that you must appease me in order to maintain a residence.” 

“Home,” Harry whispered in awe.

“It’s really mine. And nobody can take it from me?”

“They cannot,” Snape replied.

“It is yours. Which is rather fitting, seeing as you have already redecorated.”

Harry, who had come into the office feeling as if he were worth less than the dirt on the dungeon floors, gave Snape a genuine smile.

Snape didn’t think he was a monster. Snape thought he was worth something.

In fact, he thought he was worth a whole house. “Thank you, sir,” Harry said.

“I suppose I’ll let you live there still,” he added thoughtfully. “Gee, how could I ever repay such kindness?” Snape drawled.

Harry stood up and stretched his back. “Can I have the master bedroom then?” he asked with a smirk.

“Go to bed, Potter,” Snape said, not unkindly. “I will remind you that while you are not a monster, you are a brat.”

Harry laughed as he walked out of Snape’s office, clutching the deed tightly.

He looked down at it again as he made his way slowly back to the dorm. Mine.

***

The second years were given something new to think about during the first week of February. It was time to choose their subjects for the third year, a matter that Hermione and Theo took very seriously.

“It could affect our whole future,” she told their group as they pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with enthusiasm. “Ugh, I just want to give up Potions,” Neville said gloomily.

Harry privately thought that Snape would be incredibly relieved if Neville dropped the class. Neville was part of Harry’s group and a good friend, but he was truly terrible at Potions.

“We can’t,” Ron replied, equally downcast. “We have to keep all our old subjects, or I would’ve ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“But that’s really important!” Hermione exclaimed, shocked.

“Not with the way Lockhart teaches it,” Ron retorted. “I haven’t learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose.”

Meanwhile, Draco and Susan had received letters from various witches and wizards in their families, each offering different advice on what to choose.

“I think I’ll do Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes,” Draco finally decided. “I’m taking Arithmancy and Runes,” Blaise said.

“So at least we’ll have one new class together.”

“Hermione and I are taking Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Runes as well,” Theo added. “She wanted to take all the electives, though,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“They could be important!” Hermione defended herself. “The classes determine what jobs you can get in the future!”

“Wait, really?” Harry asked, intrigued.

“How do you know what classes you’ll need for the job you want?”

Susan shot him a knowing smirk. “Just take what you want, Harry.

Fudge only graduated with five NEWTs—there’s no specific courses for Minister of Magic.”

Harry grinned at her as he checked the boxes for Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. He thought Divination would help him learn more about prophecies, and Care of Magical Creatures would ensure he had at least one class that probably wouldn’t require long essays.

“You want to be the Minister of Magic?” Hermione asked, her voice a bit strangled. Harry frowned in confusion.

“So what if I do? Why not, huh?”

“Merlin help us,” Theo muttered.

“You’ll create an international war.”

Harry shrugged. “But we’d win.”

None of the other kids looked very convinced.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Luna hummed, sitting across from Harry at the Slytherin table and sliding a chocolate frog to each member of their group. “Thanks, Luna,” Blaise replied with a grin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too.”

“This day is bloody mad,” Ron moaned, glancing around the decorated Great Hall with despair. The walls were draped in large, lurid pink flowers, and heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling.

Both Ron and Draco looked sickened, while Hermione and Susan seemed to be overcome with giggles. At the Head Table, Lockhart, dressed in garish pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence.

The teachers beside him wore stony expressions. From his seat, Harry noticed a muscle twitching in Professor McGonagall’s cheek, while Snape looked as if someone had just forced him to drink a large beaker of Skele-Gro.

Harry grinned at Snape when their eyes met, which earned him a fierce scowl in return. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted.

“And may I thank the forty-four people who have sent me cards so far! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here!” 

With a clap of his hands, a dozen surly-looking dwarfs marched through the doors to the entrance hall.

But these weren't just any dwarfs; they wore golden wings and carried harps. “What the heck?” Harry hissed.

“He did not force a dozen dwarfs to dress up for him.” He glared at Lockhart before deciding to use this chance to learn more about the dwarfs. “That’s inhumane,” Susan gasped, her giggles replaced by shock as she stared at the grim-faced dwarfs.

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” Lockhart beamed. “They will be roving around the school today, delivering your valentines!

And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to join in the festivities!”

“...spirit of the occasion!

Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, that sly old dog! And while you’re at it, why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion?” 

Harry stood up and let out a loud double whistle toward Professor Snape, who looked as if he might try to force-feed him poison.

“How do we get one of the dwarves alone to talk to us about their rights?” Harry asked Susan quietly as they left the hall. He wasn’t sure he liked the mischievous sparkle in her eyes when she said she’d handle it.

All day long, the dwarves kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, much to the annoyance of the teachers. Later that afternoon, as Harry and his friends were walking upstairs for their afternoon classes, one of the dwarves caught up with him.

“Oi, you! Harry Potter!” shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of his way to reach Harry.

“Hey,” Harry called back. “I’ve been looking for you!” 

“I’ve got a message to deliver to you,” the dwarf said, completely ignoring Harry's response.

“Er…” Harry glanced around the packed corridor, feeling his face heat up at the thought of receiving a Valentine in front of all the students, including his friends. “Why don’t we talk in private?

I wanted to ask you something,” he whispered, slowly backing away from the crowd. “I’ve got a musical message to deliver to Harry Potter in person,” the dwarf said, twanging his harp in a somewhat threatening manner.

“Not here,” Harry hissed, trying to retreat as his friends stifled their laughter behind their hands. “Stay still!” grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry’s bag and pulling him back.

“Let go of me!” Harry snarled, tugging at the bag. With a loud ripping noise, it split in two.

His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor, and his ink bottle smashed over everything. Harry scrambled around, trying to gather his belongings before...

The dwarf began to sing, creating quite a scene in the corridor. "What's all this commotion?" came the familiar voice of Professor Snape as he arrived.

Harry started stuffing his belongings frantically into his torn bag, desperate to escape before anyone could hear his musical valentine. Losing his composure, he attempted to make a run for it, but the dwarf latched onto his knees, bringing him crashing to the floor.

"Right," the dwarf declared, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine: Roses are red, Violets are blue, You wanted to talk to a dwarf, So I brought one to you."

Harry roughly shoved the dwarf off him and shot a furious glance at his friends.

"I hate you," he hissed at Susan. "I'm...

I'm sorry," she howled with laughter. "But now you can talk to him!"

Harry glared at the now smug-faced dwarf and shook his head.

"I hope Lockhart's enslaved your whole race," he muttered darkly. "Class now!

The bell has rung!" Snape barked at the lingering students who were still laughing at Harry's misfortune. He looked down at Harry, and despite his usual demeanor, a hint of amusement flickered at the corners of his lips.

"Two points to Hufflepuff," he murmured. "Bastard," Harry whispered in Parseltongue.

"Brat," Snape replied, correctly interpreting Harry's hiss. On the way to Charms, Harry glared at his still-giggling housemates.

"New rule for the gang: if any of you sends me a singing valentine again, I get to curse you for seven minutes," he snarled. That finally silenced their laughter.

Later that evening in the library, Draco whined, "I'm so bored."

"Then study," Theo muttered distractedly, focused on his potions homework. Ignoring him, Draco turned to Ron with a hopeful expression.

"Wanna go fly?"

"Merlin, yes," Ron sighed, slamming his book shut. "Don’t come—"

"Crying to us when you fail!" Hermione called after them as they dashed out of the library.

Harry watched them go, feeling a mix of longing and frustration before he slumped back down in his seat. He really needed to study; he'd missed so much during his expulsion, and the end-of-year exams wouldn’t make any exceptions for him.

He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and attempted a second revision of the essay he owed Professor Sprout. After writing a few sentences, he paused to shake out his hand.

Looking around the table, he saw Hermione, Theo, Susan, Neville, and Luna all studying diligently—well, maybe not Luna. She was smiling down at her notebook, taking long pauses between her scrawls.

"What are you working on?" he asked her quietly. "I'm writing to my pen pal," she replied, still grinning at the notebook.

Harry glanced at Neville, who had also paused to watch Luna, and noted his confused expression, which suggested he didn’t understand any more than Harry did. "What’s a pen pal?" he asked her.

"A pen pal is a person with whom you exchange letters and get to know better," Hermione answered, almost automatically, her quill moving furiously across her parchment. "Oh." Harry looked back at Luna, who was now giggling softly at her notebook.

"Who’s your pen pal?" 

Luna hummed thoughtfully and looked up at Harry with wide eyes. "I don’t know," she said casually.

"I found him in Myrtle's bathroom." 

"What?" Susan exclaimed, looking up from her homework. "You found a boy in the girls' bathroom, and you're sending a letter to him?" 

"Of course not," Luna laughed again.

"I found this," she waved a little black book around, "in Myrtle’s bathroom, and now I’m writing to the owner." 

"How do you know who owns it?" Neville asked, intrigued. "Because he writes back to me in it." 

"What?" Theo asked, his interest piqued.

"The owner of the book is writing back to you?" 

Luna nodded and opened the book again. "Watch," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Hello Luna’s friends, what are your names?” The words appeared in the same ink Luna had used, and the other five kids leaned in closer, captivated. “Brill!” Harry exclaimed, his excitement bubbling over.

“We should get notebooks like that!”

“That’s not a normal charm, though,” Theo said slowly, glancing at Hermione, who looked just as puzzled. “I’ve never heard of a notebook that works like that.”

“I bet you could make some, Harry!” Susan chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement that matched Harry’s.

“Then we could all message each other during classes!”

“Classes are for learning,” Hermione and Theo said in unison. Hermione blushed and picked up her textbook again.

“Well, for the summer then,” Susan said with a roll of her eyes. “They’d be really useful to have!”

“I don’t know what kind of spells or charms I’d need, though,” Harry said, eyeing the little black book carefully.

“You can borrow this one and try to copy it,” Luna offered helpfully. “I don’t mind.

Someone threw it at Myrtle trying to get rid of it, so I really don’t own it anyway.”

“Thanks, Luna. I’ll give it back when I’m done.” Harry slid the little black book into his backpack, thinking that if he couldn’t figure it out tonight, perhaps Snape would have some ideas.

Later that night, after his dorm mates had fallen asleep, Harry sat on his four-poster and flipped through the blank pages of the black book. Not a single page showed any trace of ink, despite Luna having written in it over the past few days.

He pulled out a new ink bottle from his bedside cabinet, dipped his quill into it, and dropped a blot onto the first page. The ink shimmered brightly for a moment before vanishing, as if being sucked into the page, just like it had for Luna.

Determined, Harry loaded his quill again and wrote, “What kind of...”

"What kind of magic is this?" The words glimmered for a brief moment on the page before vanishing without a trace. Suddenly, out of the page, in his own ink, appeared words Harry had never written before.

"I am a diary, a preservation of memories from my time at Hogwarts. Who is this?" 

Harry hesitated for a moment, then carefully wrote, "My name is James.

What’s yours?" The ink absorbed his words, and soon new ones appeared. "Hello, James.

My name is Tom Riddle." 

"Oh, Luna, you mad, mad witch," he murmured, instantly recognizing the name. "You can’t just be pen pals with the Dark Lord."