Harry Potter & the Slytherin Rivals of Hogwarts

Chapter 4: From One Orphan to Another

"Oh, Harry!"

Harry whirled around at the sound of his friends voice.

“Mione! Where’ve you been? Ginny and I got stuffed into a cab with Malfoy and his friends. You should have seen how put off he was when-”

“Harry! We can chat about that later! Right now Hagrid’s rounding up all the students so we’d better-”

A yell sounded a little further ways up the platform and both Gryffindors turned toward the sound, eyes widening upon contact. It didn’t take them a second to glance at one another in worry before running over to the commotion.

“Weasley, if you have any brains left in that thick head of yours you’ll back off!”

“Shut your gob, Malfoy! I know it was you and your cronies that made her cry, and if you think for a second I’ll believe-”

“Ron!” Hermione and Harry called out, pushing themselves through the crowd, Hermione using her rank as Head Girl to make the students move off faster. “What on earth is going on!” she asked, looking back and forth between her friend and Malfoy and his crew.

"Yeah, mate. Calm down,” Harry advised, stationing himself next to his friend and warily eyeing both the red head and blond. The scowls putting him on edge. “We don’t need to cause a ruckus and scare all the first years. What on earth has gotten into you?"

“Why don’t you ask him,” Ron said jabbing his chin in Malfoy’s direction.

“Oh, please, Weasel. Why don’t you just trot off and find your sister before she drowns herself in whatever it is you’ve construed me to have done to her-” Malfoy said before he was cut off by one angry Weasley.

"You’ll pay for that Malfoy!" Ron glowered. Instead of pointing his wand and uttering some silencing spell or anything to shut the Slytherin up, he bodily lunged for Malfoy, knocking him over and tumbled into a bench. He would have gotten a punch in if it wasn’t for Hermione and Harry breaking up the struggle. Hermione went between Ron and Malfoy, while Harry grabbed at Ron as Crabbe captured his Slytherin friend’s upper arms.

"—Enough! 5 points from Slytherin for provoking a Gryffindor—"

"—Ha! You got points taken!" Ron laughed.

"—And 10 points from Gryffindor for acting impulsively!" Hermione finished.

"What! You heard that pompous git! He deserved it!"

"Ron, not everyone deserves to be shoved down on the pavement and attacked."

"Listen to your know-it-all friend, Weasel. You might actually learn something important," Malfoy growled as he brushed off the dust on his slacks and cloak.

"That’s real original. You think even after your parent’s went missing and the Dark Lord was defeated you could quit it with that codswallop, Malfoy." Ron, oblivious to how deep that cut into Malfoy, pursed his lips triumphantly.

Malfoy fumed. He was ready to knock the Weasel into oblivion! He reached for his wand, but at the same moment Harry prevented a confrontation by running into him, knocking them both to the ground.

"Ger’off me, Potter! I’m going to kill you, Weasley! You hear me! I’ll rip you apart!" Malfoy struggled as much as he could against Harry, but it was no use. They may be the same height and close to the same build but Harry was undoubtedly the stronger one, at least in their current position.

"Malfoy! Calm down—!" The Slytherin swung a fist at Harry. "Watch it! I’m only trying to hel—!" The fist collided with Gryffindor’s jaw. "Bloodyhell!” Harry hissed.

Malfoy knocked Harry over, landing on his knees, panting from the struggle with the Gryffindor. He was breathing harder now, his eyes darting between Crabbe and Goyle, to Ron and Hermione and finally to Harry who was sprawled out on the ground clenching his jaw.

"Enough!" Hermione yelled. Malfoy sneered at the red-haired Gryffindor pushing himself up all the while Ron glared back advancing forward toward the Slytherin. They came close to each other without punching the other out—Hermione shifted so she was between them again.

"I said enough! Go join your House Malfoy, or so help me, Merlin—" she threatened. "And 10 points from Gryffindor for abusive words and implications. 5 points from Slytherin for hitting Harry, Malfoy," she glared. "He was only trying to help."

"Sure, Granger. He helped enough by making me-" Draco shook his head, a deep scowl plastered across it. Instead of finishing what he was going to say he stormed off, quickly followed by Crabbe and Goyle.

"10 points! For what? That stupid—"

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! Not now! Harry! Harry, are you all right?"

"Ofallthestupid—" Insert groan of discomfort, check, Harry mentally sobbed. "Yeah, I think I’ll live but— He hit me in the front of my jaw. I think I chipped a tooth. Oh Godric, I feel dizzy."

Harry spit, and blood landed on the pavement.

"Oh gross."

Hermione took out her wand and muttered a Healing charm to clean up the blood in Harry’s mouth. She also added a numb charm to his jaw so he wouldn’t feel the pain. Not until he reached the Hospital Wing anyway.

Harry stood, wobbling a bit, then confirming to his friends that, Yes, he was fine, before falling into a heap upon the pavement.

---


"Wow, I cannot believe you hit Potter!" Blaise Zabini hollered down the Slytherin table. Many Slytherins, if not all, staring as they heard the news.

"That was the most brilliant thing I've ever seen!" Theo laughed across from the blond.

"He was preventing me from killing Weasley," Draco answered simply.

"What did the Weasel say anyway?" Theo asked. “Not that he needs to open that big gob of his to deserve a hit, mind you.”

"Nothing," Draco mumbled, looking down at his fingernails.

"Oh, Draco. Did you lose us points for doing that? Did Granger see you?" Pansy questioned, worried.

"Only 10 points. Or so."

"And well worth it, eh Draco!"

"Did those Gryffindors get points taken?" Millicent Bulstrode wondered.

"Doubt it if Granger was the one doing the point-taking," Zabini rolled his eyes.

"No, they had 20 points taken," Draco amended for them.

"Serves them right. Hey look!" Theo stood, pointing and laughing as the trio of Gryffindors walked into the Great Hall. "Potty’s got a big boo-boo!"

The Slytherins had a fit with that, snorting as Potter, Weasley and Granger walked to their table.

Draco followed them with his glare.

What the hell had gotten Weasley so worked up as to come after him and accuse him of making his sister cry?

---


Harry awoke sore and confused in the Hospital Wing—how he got there, he couldn’t remember. When he tried to lick his mouth he scrunched his face up when his tongue hit something and pain seared along the side.

"What in the—" He reached up, touched his lip and realized it was cut and swollen. He swished his tongue around and felt that the cut continued from his outer lip into his mouth. He also discovered that his front, bottom tooth was chipped.

He groaned and fell back into the bed he was placed in and felt around for his glasses on the table next to him.

"Well, Mr. Potter, you’re up finally." Madam Pompfrey said walking briskly into the infirmary.

"How’d I get here?" Harry asked as he lifted himself up into a sitting position. Madam Pompfrey handed him a mirror. He took it and looked—

"Well, from what I understand, Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy and yourself got into a bit of a brawl. Care to explain what you remember Mr. Potter?"

He was looking at some distorted version of himself. He felt worse then he looked but it looked worse then he’d normally imagined it to be.

"Oh uh, well Ron said something to Malfoy, Malfoy got angry and went for his wand. So, naturally, I intervened. And then the prat—" Madam Pompfrey eyed him. "I mean, then he punched me. And then I just remember Hermione charming my mouth so it was clean and then easing the pain. Then I was here."

"Well that’s similar to what your friends reported."

"Am I going to die?" Harry dramatically swept his hand to his forehead and fell back into bed. Thus earning a hefty laugh from Madam Pompfrey.

It was rather odd, Harry always thought, that since he was in Quidditch his first year, he had made at least one stop in the Hospital Wing each year. So naturally, Madam Pompfrey and he made the best of it with jokes, witty cracks and the like.

"Not today, Potter. Now drink this, yes I know it tastes horrid, but it’ll help regrow that tooth you’re missing.”

With that Madam Pompfrey patted his head as if he were 13 years old all over again and left him the things he’d need to take care of his wound. He was studying to be a Mediwizard (He knew he was a shoe in to be an Auror; though being trained to be a Mediwizard was something he wanted, just in case someone was injured) so he needed to know both Muggle and Wizard medical procedures.

Harry got up and collected his things.

"What —" he said as he noticed two pieces of paper lying on the chair that was next to his bed.

Wonder if they’re mine, Harry thought. Oh. Yes, I guess they are. He found his name scrawled in beautiful black calligraphy on one of the parchments, writing which could only belong to Hermione while the other one was printed in black ink in all capital letters. Must be from Ron, he thought, smiling to himself. Though, it doesn’t look like his handwriting. Harry shrugged, sat down on his bed, and opened Hermione’s first.

- - -


Oh Harry!

I cannot believe that Malfoy hit you! Ron had no right to say that about Malfoy’s parents! I haven’t talked to Ronald just yet on this subject, but wait until I get him alone! I’ll give him a piece of my mind on that subject.

Did you see how angry Malfoy was? Something with Malfoy is amiss, I’m telling you. Yes he’s still crude and annoyingly persistent when he pesters us, but something doesn’t— doesn’t feel right with him. You know? It’s like he’s avoiding something. But I suppose, considering everything he’s had to go through since the war ended... Oh well, maybe I’m just looking too much into it. Ronald and I stayed in the Hospital Wing as long as we could, but Madam Pompfrey shooed us away so you could rest (that and the fact that Ron was bored and started braiding your hair [sorry about that!]). We both hope you get better and wake up before the Sorting Ceremony begins! We’ll be saving you a spot at our table!

Hermione

- - -


Harry smiled, fingering the three or four short braids that Ron had put in his hair as he picked up the other note.

Alright, this must be from Ron—

Harry opened up the card.

---


Get well.

---


That was all the card said. ‘Get well.’ No signature. No sign whatsoever about who it could’ve been from.

"Right..." Harry said to himself, confused.

"Mr. Potter—" Harry closed his eyes at the sound of the voice from behind him. He took a breath, shoved the parchments into his pockets, stood up and turned around to the addressing voice.

"Professor," Harry acknowledged.

"I trust everything between Mr. Malfoy and yourself is settled." That wasn’t a question.

"Hopefully."

"Hopefully, isn’t good enough. Each year the two of you come back to Hogwarts, each year you and he get into a physical banter, and each year one of you ends up in the hospital wing at least once because of the other. Now let me reiterate the rules. This is your last year. I won’t have you distracting Mr. Malfoy from his studies." The professor raised an eyebrow. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor Snape."

"Good." Snape lifted his head and nodded. "Now hurry along, Potter. I’ve come to escort you to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony."

Harry nodded as he reluctantly followed Snape to where all the other students and faculty were gathered.

Yes, it’s absolutely clear you want to fail me but you wouldn’t dare because that would mean you’d have to go through, yet another, year of my painful presence. I’m not my father you know, Harry thought sourly.

He walked down the corridor, down the ever-changing stair cases, and directly to the Great Hall. Before he went in, he heard shouts behind him.

"Har-ry!"

" ‘Arry!"

He turned around and was almost knocked over when a mass of red hair hurled into him.

"Ow! Okay, Ron, yeah I get the idea—you were worried! No need to come outta nowhere like a raging ball of fur!"

"Ron! Careful, you might hurt him!"

Ron rolled his eyes and let his friend out of the tight embrace.

"So, Harry, how’s your mouth? Looks like crap."

Harry nodded sarcastically. "Yeah, thanks. I’ll always know where to go when I need a lifter-upper."

"Ron!" Hermione said in a pained expression. “Harry, you look fine. You look better then you did when we took you in.’

"Yeah, I agree with that, mate." Ron nodded. "Though when you blacked out I thought we’d never make it to the Hospital Wing; you weigh a ton!"

"I do not. I only weigh-..." Harry trailed off as he felt the presence behind them.

“Are you quite finished with this reunion or can we continue on to the Great Hall where the rest of the Hogwarts population has congregated?”

All three Gryffindors winced.

“S-Sorry, Professor Snape,” came the apology. They followed their potions master at a distance so they could continue speaking in hushed whisperes.

"And I don’t weigh a lot!”

Ron snorted. “Coulda fooled me.”

“Harry’s weight is what’s considered to be average for a Quidditch player of his build; you should know that. How much do you weigh anyway, Ron?" Hermione pried, mocking Ron.

"I don’t know, how much do you weigh, Mione?" Ron mocked her in return.

"A lady never reveals such things."

"Neither do gentlemen."

Harry snorted at the last comment.

"What?" Ron playfully smacked Harry’s arm.

As the three entered the Great Hall, they heard the Slytherin table laughing and shouting at them.

"Hey look! Potty’s got a big boo-boo!"

Harry looked over and glared, then turned away.

"Oh don’t pay them any attention, Harry," Hermione comforted, walking over to her usual seat across from Ron and Harry, next to Ginny. "So," she started. "What are your resolutions for this year?"

"Pardon?" Ron asked baffled.

"Your New Year’s Resolution, what are they?"

"Um, Mione, that’s usually during New Year’s Eve—isn’t it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I mean your New Year, as in your new year at Hogwarts."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"Uh—you first, Ron. I insist."

"Gee, thanks, mate," Ron said dryly. "Alright, uh, my New Year’s resolution for my new year at Hogwarts, and my last, mind you, is to pass Potions and have the girl I fancy accompany me to the Masquerade Ball."

"The Masquerade Ball?"

"Yeah, the new ball. You know the one we get in celebration due to the fact that Old-Moldy-Voldy is gone." Ron hardly ever called the Dark Lord by the name of Voldemort, instead taking a more humorous approach so no one around him was uncomfortable.

"Oh," Hermione was, for the first time ever (besides 2nd year when Ron got his first Howler), speechless.

"So, who’s the girl?" Seamus Finnegan asked curiously from next to Harry.

"Well I can’t tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?" Neville Longbottom asked from across Seamus.

"Because it’s a bloody secret! That’s why! Ya can’t just go ‘round tellin’ people these kinds of things!"

"Sure you can, Ron." Seamus grinned. "Besides, everyone knows—" at this point Ron was beet red with embarrassment. "—that you fancy Lavender over there." Seamus pointed down the long table to the very end where a pretty brunette sat talking quietly with her friends.

"Uhh, well actually I don—"

"So, Ron," Harry started off trying to take all the attention away from ‘who’ Ron liked or who he really didn’t. "Wanna hear my resolution?"

"Yeah—bet I know what it is- To rest and relax and not have to always look over your shoulder when you go skinny dipping in Hogwart’s lake!"

Many a girl around them blushed at the thought of Harry being completely nude and glistening with moisture like some ethereal water god. It really was a delicious thought.
Harry shrunk a little in his chair, blushing profusely.

"Uh, well, who doesn’t go skinny dippin’ every now and then?" Seamus said quickly, seeing Harry’s obvious embarrassment. Only then did Ron notice his best friend’s distress.

"True, And with that said—" Ron went on and on about who he thought should make what on the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year. Harry spaced off making a silent resolution as he looked over at the Slytherin table.

I’ve got to tell him. Dumbledore said no one explained to him what happened to his parents—said it was my job if anyone’s. What in Godric’s name am I going to do?

Malfoy looked up suddenly and glared full force at Harry.

Happy New Year at Hogwarts to you, too.

And with that, Harry stabbed at his ‘happy-faced’ pudding.




Chapter end.