The first few weeks of classes had been an interesting balancing act for Harry. He had found that the change from the standard school timetable left him a little uneasy, but when things had been the same for four years, he knew it would just take some time before he found a balance to it all. Harry had enjoyed his time, though. Snape had already challenged him in interesting ways, and he found helping the first years almost enjoyable—almost!
But even with everything that had been happening, he made sure to hang out with his friends. They had all complained that he was no longer in their potions class, meaning that he wasn’t there to stop them from destroying caldrons or handing in uncompleted potions. It amused Harry, especially when Snape would mutter about how stupid certain Malfoy’s could be at some times.
But the work and the challenges of the week weren’t what concerned him. It was Professor Quirrell. The man had taught Muggle Studies since Harry’s first year. He was odd and had never truly stood out—meaning Harry had found his classes boring and easy—but this year, he was somehow the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Harry had mentioned the change to Snape, but he hadn’t even gotten a response. The Potion’s Professor has simply snapped at him to pay attention.
The feeling in his gut bothered Harry whenever he saw the man. With his large purple turban—that had never been seen on his head before this year—was always giving Harvey strange looks. The boy didn’t seem to notice, but how could anyone ignore the blatant staring from across the Great Hall. And then there was the way his magic seemed to bubble beneath his skin. Harry had sat through double D.A.D.A on Tuesday and a single period on Wednesday, and his skin had crawled whenever the professor got too close. It was alarming.
He had considered mentioning his magic’s reaction to either Snape or Flitwick, but he decided to just ignore it. There were times that Harry tended to overreact, and he could just be tired from his busy schedule. And having Harvey around was also an oddity and an irritation.
For four years, Hogwarts had been a safe haven from his annoying younger brother, but now it felt like he wasn’t able to escape him. Harry felt like he was constantly harassed by the boy in and outside of classes. In Potions class, if it was anything other than a question about the work, he would simply dismiss him. But outside, the boy was more persistent.
One spot that he seemed to always interrupt was when Harry was in the library. With the free time he did have, the library was always the least distracting place to get his work done. His friends often joined him, knowing that if they were to bother him, he would kick them out well before the librarian did.
It had been one afternoon when Cedric, Jenna and Dylan had all joined him. The four of them working on the same essay that Flitwick had given them. Harry had noticed his brother approaching them before anyone else, he had hoped that his glare would have scared him off, but it hadn’t worked.
Harry huffed and said, “I’m busy.” It was ending the conversation before it begun, or at least he had hoped.
Harvey had smiled awkwardly and said, “I know, but I have a question about the cure for boils essay.”
Harry let out an annoyed sigh, but before he could speak, Jenna jumped in. “Oh, I remember the good old boils. Those were simpler days.”
Cedric and Dylan laughed, but Harry just glared at her.
“Didn’t you melt that one, Jenna?” asked Dylan.
Jenna squinted her eyes but smiled. “No. That was you.”
Dylan chuckled. “Oh right, Snape almost killed me.”
“Neville Longbottom melted his too,” said Harvey.
This just caused all his friends to continue laughing.
Harry stood up and picked up the books. He frowned at Jenna, ignoring Harvey, as he grabbed his bag and said, “You all talk too much.”
His friends just rolled their eyes at him, and as he walked away, he heard Harvey ask, “Was it me?”
He had wanted to turn back around and yell at him that it was, but the librarian was already giving him a look because his friends had been talking.
After that, Jenna seemed determined to force Harry to socialize with his brother, but Harry had fifteen years of practice avoiding Harvey, and he always managed to slip away. When Harvey did appear, it was mainly Harry’s dismissive tone or his Weasley friend dragging him away, telling him ‘not to bother’.
There had been plenty of moments where Harry had thought that maybe he was too harsh, too dismissive of Harvey, but he couldn’t stand being around him. His stomach would always tighten, anger seemed to bubble beneath his skin, and all he would want to do is yell. What he wanted to scream precisely, he didn’t know. But Harry knew that if he did slip and let out his anger, then Harvey would probably start crying, and his parents would hear about it. His plan would only work, however, if he got his friends—mainly Jenna—to understand that.
But it wasn’t just Jenna. When it came to Quidditch, Harvey was always around asking about it. The captain of the Ravenclaw team, Roger Davis, who was also in his fifth year, had been handed the reigns and had turned into a bossy dictator. Davis had tried to demand five training sessions a week, but the team had put their foot down—besides, Harry barely could fit in the standard three training sessions. Davis relented after nobody showed up to the additional practices he put down for Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. But Davis, like any bossy dictator, enjoyed the attention. So when Harvey started showing up to their morning training sessions, before breakfast, he spent more time talking than he did training.
It needed to stop. Harry decided, as he had sat in his afternoon Charms class on Friday, that he was going to ensure that Harvey stopped showing up to training sessions and that Jenna stopped trying to force them together.
After Flitwick dismissed them, Harry grabbed his bags and followed Jenna out of the classroom. Instead of heading to the common room, Harry grabbed Jenna’s elbow and tugged her away from the rest of the students. She complained loudly, drawing everyone’s attention, but Harry ignored them.
Harry tugged her into an alcove, and Jenna smirked.
“Harry, if this is when you admit to me that you're in love with me, I have something that I must tell you first.”
Harry frowned. “You never do stop talking.”
Jenna shrugged. “And you never stop frowning.”
“Because you never stop talking.”
Jenna crossed her arms. “Did we come here for you to complain or makeout?”
Harry’s frown cracked, and he smiled. “Neither.” She was always able to get to him. “I need to talk to you about Potter.”
“Really?” she said. Her face in complete disbelief. “You are going so far that you are now referring to him by his surname. He is your brother, for Merlin sake!”
“You need to understand that there is no fixing the relationship between Harvey and me!” He snapped.
Jenna frowned. “Why?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“Because I think what you just said is bullshit. All siblings don’t get along; you can yell and scream, hate one another one day and then love each other the next.”
“The situation between Harvey and I is completely different from normal siblings,” said Harry.
“No, it isn’t.” Jenna nudged his shoulder. “Plenty of siblings grow up in separate homes, with their parents apart, and they deal with it just fine.”
“Most siblings don’t have the pressure of protecting their younger brother from mass murdering psychotic wizards.” Harry was yelling now. He hated how everything that Jenna was saying made sense. But he couldn’t let her be right; Harvey had stolen his mother because he was the bloody ‘Boy-Who-Lived’.
Jenna had taken a step away from him, and a flash of fear passed through her eyes.
Harry clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Jenna’s hand touched his arm, and he looked up to see something else in her eyes. “No, I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I guess that I just see the way Harvey looks at you, how desperate he is to share some form of bond with you, and I can’t help but want that for both of you.”
Harry wrapped his arms around Jenna. He couldn’t remember another time he had ever actually hugged her. “It’s more complicated than you know.”
She nodded and stepped back. “Okay. I’ll stop being so pushy.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
There was every chance that Jenna would still continue to try and push the brothers together; Harry knew that, but at least it wouldn’t be her constant goal.
The two of them left the alcove and headed to their dorm room. They dropped off their bags before heading to the great hall, which by the time they had arrived, was bustling with students who had started eating.
Harry and Jenna took a seat across from Dylan, who smiled at them both as he took a bite of a chicken drumstick he had in his hand.
“Please slow down,” said Jenna. “I would rather you not choke.”
Dylan swallowed, then said, “Yes, Mother.” He glanced at Harry. “Where you been?”
“Harry took me to a romantic spot on the grounds to admit his deepest desires for me,” said Jenna as she started to fill her own plate with food.
Harry rolled his eyes as Dylan gave them a strange look. Davis, who was sitting beside Dylan, looked up. He asked, “Is she why you didn’t want the extra practices? Too busy getting laid?”
“No,” said Harry, “she was making a joke.”
“Unlike you, she has a sense of humour,” said another Ravenclaw, by the name of Betty Frank. She was in her seventh year, unlike them, and seemed to have a strong dislike towards Davis. Who, in turn, had an infatuation for her that could be border lining on stalking.
“Oh, dear Betty, why do you wound me so?” asked Davis.
Betty rolled her eyes and held up a book so that she didn’t have to look at him.
“Anyway,” said Dylan. “Harry, have you gotten the inside scoop about the third-floor corridor?”
Harry shook his head.
Ever since the welcome feast, Dylan had been overly curious about the third-floor corridor that Dumbledore had announced was out of bounds. He had begged Harry to ask Snape about it, and while Harry never would—because Snape would simply tell him to focus on more important things—he had told Dylan he would try.
“Maybe you should just ask Professor Quirrell,” said Jenna.
Dylan cringed. “No way, he stinks of garlic, and I could be crushed if that ugly purple turban falls off his head.”
Harry snorted with amusement.
“Oh, really, grow up.” Jenna shook her head at them.
After dinner was over, Harry sat in the Ravenclaw common room by the fire. He had a potions book that Snape had given him to read and had decided that the potions master was just trying to torture him. The book had been mostly useless information that any first-year could comprehend and was ready to toss it into the fire. Harry hadn’t seen Snape grab the book from his shelf, but he had a guess that it was from the bottom row.
Dylan walked into the common room with a copy of the daily prophet in his hand. He waved it at Harry and said, “Mate, look at this.”
Harry took the paper and frowned curiously at the front page. It read:
129Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9VI60tALIL
GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST
Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.
Gringotts’ goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had, in fact, been emptied the same day.
‘But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,’ said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.
Gringotts wasn’t exactly an easy place to break into, and the consequences from the Goblins, if someone got caught, would have whichever witch or wizard that had attempted such a thing begging to be sent to Azkaban.
“I wonder what was so important that someone would risk breaking into such a place,” said Dylan.
Harry handed him back the paper and stood up. “Something bloody important.”
“Or maybe powerful,” said Dylan.
“Maybe what they are looking for is now hidden on the third floor, which is why we can’t go down there,” said Harry. The sarcasm dripped from his words, and it took a moment for Dylan to catch on.
At first, his eyes had widened with a childlike excitement before his face dropped. “You’re mean.”
Harry smiled. “You are just too easy.”
Dylan shook his head and dropped down onto the couch. “No, I like excitement. There is a difference.”
“No, you are just gullible. There isn’t any chance that they would hide something so desirable in a school,” said Harry.
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