Chapter Text
Harry stared dully at the paper in front of him. He was meant to be working on his homework for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but he couldn't bring himself to think about Umbridge, not now. Ron and Hermione were sat at the next table, deep in conversation - he could only assume they were having some kind of Prefect planning meeting, which he wasn't invited to and didn't necessarily want to partake in.
Everything felt pointless. He hadn't heard from Sirius in a while, and his attempts at training the others to fight just felt... Voldemort was back. Voldemort had killed a student in front of him, and he was back, and no one would listen. No one cared, and Harry didn't know how to make them care, because Cedric Diggory was the kind of boy who deserved to live, and he wasn't. This just seemed to be the path his life was on. A trail of deaths, and he lived on.
"Hey Harry,"
"You look miserable." The twins greeted him, slipping onto the table he was sitting at. He stiffly moved his homework out of the way, expecting some kind of teasing from them. But he wasn't in the mood. They were grinning, and he couldn't bring himself to grin. They seemed to be back to their normal selves, after the strangeness a couple of days ago of them having cut their hair back to regulation style. Which was almost a relief - he didn't think he could handle the twins being broken by Umbridge.
"We know what will cheer you up."
"We do. Hey, Harry, which of us looks older?"
"Fred's older," Harry muttered, poking at his parchment. He was vaguely aware he also had Potions homework, but that felt worse than Defence. "Why?"
"Harry, look at us."
"Actually look." The twins continued to press, and he lifted his head, frowning a little. He immediately saw the difference - George still had his regulation haircut, but Fred's hair was the flowing shoulder length mess it had been at the Yule Ball. He tried to assess their faces.
"George." Harry muttered slowly. "George is... George is older right now."
"I am." George answered smugly, pulling a book out from behind his back. "We were looking through the restricted section-"
"-Because we're Seventh Years so we can-"
"-and we found this book. Pure Protection By Serena Selwyn.-"
"-and it's mostly defensive magic and stuff, so we thought it could help with your project, wink, but-"
Harry didn't have much time to consider the fact that Fred had literally said wink out loud, because George was flicking through the book, and opened it to a particular page.
"It's got this. Which is a spell which turns people back to the night they lost their virginity."
"If they have, otherwise they stay the same as demonstrated by George here-"
"But otherwise they look like they did then-"
"You look like you did the night of the Yule Ball. I mean, not the clothes," Harry gestured. "But you."
"I do, don't I." Fred grinned. "There's a reason for that."
Angelina, who had been sitting at a nearby table, glared over at them. Fred winked at her, and she jumped to her feet. "Fredrick Weasley."
"I guess that's our sign to scarper," George muttered - Fred was already halfway over to the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Angelina was chasing him. George hurried to his brother's defence, and Harry stared at the page, glancing without interest at the one that it was open on, and then focusing on the protective spells it contained.
"Can I look at that, Harry?" Hermione asked, moving across to him. "I heard what the twins were saying, and they clearly can't be trusted with a book like that, we should return it, or at least I should look."
"No, they're right, there's some good defensive stuff here."
Hermione flicked through, her frown deepening. "Harry, there's guides here to wards that will injure Muggleborns."
"I'm not suggesting we use those. I'm just saying, this kind of magic... we can use some of the charms. Nothing harmful."
"It's just barbaric, that's what it is." Hermione flicked through. "They seem to think we're still in the seventeenth century."
"Hermione, please."
She sighed dramatically, but handed it over, sitting down opposite him. "I can read upside-down. Let's take a look and see what we can use for the next lesson." It was almost like being friends again, and Harry clung to it. He focused on the defensive spells it contained, and by the time the twins slunk back into the tower that evening, he was feeling better than he had in weeks.
The next morning at breakfast, none of the Seventh Year girls were talking to Fred, and his hair was back to being short, but Harry felt pretty good. Some of the spells definitely looked useful, even if he knew Hermione distrusted the book. He couldn't blame her - it wasn't easy for him to see some of the hatred written on the pages. He couldn't begin to imagine what it was like for her.
Unfortunately, he'd gotten so caught up in reading the book that he hadn't done his Potions' homework, and he spent most of History of Magic rapidly trying to copy Hermione's notes. He'd battered it into something vaguely useable by the time they'd reached the Potions' dungeon, all washing their hands.
Malfoy was there, early as usual, arms around his books. A bunch of Slytherins burst into laughter as they approached, Pansy Parkinson in particular seeming to struggle to get her giggles under control. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "So, is it true Potter?"
"What now, Malfoy?" Harry asked. He knew he shouldn't rise to the bait, but he was tired and angry.
"That soon there's going to be another Weasley baby? I can't imagine that family can manage any more mouths to feed, but-"
"Shut it, Malfoy." Ron snapped, and Draco laughed, looking at Harry curiously.
"I suppose you wouldn't know anything about any of that now, would you Potter. Not given your "girlfriend", I can't imagine you're in any rush to sleep with her given the last boy she slept with ended up dead-"
Harry snarled, reaching for his wand, fury filling him. Draco was still sneering, and he was picturing Cedric's broken body, Cho's tears when she spoke of him, and Harry wanted to humiliate him, wanted to prove to the entire school that Draco might have acted like a big man but he was just as clueless as the rest of them.
He held his wand out, aiming for Draco, who wasn't armed. Primus Nocta. It wasn't a complicated spell. He wanted to embarrass Draco, to show that Draco had utterly failed at any serious relationship at the school because he'd always been caught up in their stupid rivalry.
He saw the fear in Draco's eyes when he cast the spell, books falling from his hands. Not shame, but sheer terror, the same terror he'd had that day that Hermione held him at wand point two years before. He saw Pansy's eyes widen. But he'd already cast it.
Things seemed to run in slow motion. He could feel people looking their way, could see Draco transforming before his eyes - not like polyjuice, but like a slow-motion film run backwards. He was shrinking. He was shrinking far more than he should have, and Harry could feel panic setting in as he realised exactly what he had done.
Sirius had told him to practice Parseltongue, in case it ever came in useful. He doubted this was the scenario Sirius had in mind, but he used it anyway, because he had to do something, yelling out in Parseltongue. He wasn't even sure what he was saying. He had to say something.
Time seemed to catch up. Draco stood there, eyes wide, a head smaller than he had been in first year. Harry realised the books on the floor were impossibly on fire, saw Pansy slip her wand back into her sleeve. And Draco looked around, seeming to take in the situation, the crowd. He turned and ran, leaving the rest of them stood in the corridor as the door to the dungeon opened.