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mickume
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alt_potterverse

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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"There are two more knives in the troll's back," Snape said. His voice was smooth as silk, but there was something odd in his expression. "Just how many weapons do you carry, Potter?"
"Turn out your pockets, Potter," Snape said, staring into his eyes.
Harry withdrew the other throwing knife and gave it to McGonagall, glad that at least they couldn't search his mokeskin pouch—
"The mokeskin pouch, too," Snape said.
Harry's eyes widened in astonishment. He reached into the pouch and withdrew the collapsible knife he'd bought two months before in Diagon Alley.
"Thank you," McGonagall said as she took the knife. "We'll return these before you next board the Express. I don't want to see them at Hogwarts again."
"But—Professor! I need them!" Harry said.
"You most certainly do not," McGonagall said, nostrils flaring. "Carrying weapons is not only against school rules, it's a blatant danger to the students and staff."
"And if I hadn't had them today? What do you suppose would have happened?" Hermione began trembling against him.
"That's quite beside the—"
"HERMIONE WOULD BE DEAD!" Harry yelled.
"Be that as it may—"
Hermione whimpered and slipped out of Harry's grasp, running from the room. Harry made to follow her.
"Potter, I'm not finished—"
"Your tantrum is not the most important thing in this castle, Deputy Headmistress," Harry said sharply. Then he ran after Hermione.
Harry found her sitting at the top of the grand staircase. He sat on her right. Neither spoke for a few moments.
"I could have died tonight, Harry."
"I know," he said.
"I could have died. And the teachers wouldn't have cared. The students wouldn't have. Nobody in this entire c-country..."
"I would have cared."
Hermione shook her head. "You have other friends—Neville—Ron—Fred and George—the Quidditch team—"
"Is that what's been going on the last few weeks?" Harry asked.
Hermione swallowed, but nodded mutely.
"Hermione, I'm always going to have other friends. Probably even more than I do now. But I only have one best friend, and you're it."
"I-I am?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Harry said. "I told Ron that when I yelled at him for hurting your feelings."
Hermione gave a sort of watery chuckle.
"Two months ago," Harry said, "I decided I was keeping you, and that's what I'm going to do."
Hermione leaned into his shoulder, and Harry wrapped his arm around her back, and they sat there for a while.
At length, Hermione asked, "Where were you sneaking off to, anyway?"
Harry chuckled. "Knife practice. I thought you'd disapprove."
"I would have. It'd be a bit hypocritical of me now, though," Hermione said. "Harry...can you teach me how to fight?"
He turned towards her, looking at her seriously. "It took me years of study. Practice every day. Athleticism you might not possess. I even use a little wandless magic. I don't know if I can teach it all."
"Please, Harry," she said.
"And you have to be willing to do what it takes to protect yourself. Even if it takes a bloody mess. Even if it puts you in more danger. Even if it means hurting someone. Even if it means killing."
"I will." She took his hand. "I don't want to cower in a corner again."
He looked at her for a moment before finally saying, "Okay."
She smiled—rather tiredly, he thought, but that was understandable. "We should get to Gryffindor Tower."
"Probably," Harry said, and they started off together, hand in bloodied hand.
When two first-year students stepped into the Gryffindor common room, one with a few spots of dried blood here and there, the other with about half his body caked in the stuff, everyone stopped talking and eating and just stared.
It was Neville who broke the silence. "Harry! Hermione! Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Harry said.
"What happened?" one of the Weasley twins—George, Harry guessed—asked.
"The troll found Hermione," Harry said tiredly. "Then I found the troll."
There was a long silence. Everyone gaped.
"I think I need a shower," Harry finally said. "Save me a jacket potato, will you?"
When he came back down fifteen minutes later, the jacket potatoes were untouched.
With some careful maneuvering, the Hogwarts Professors might have salvaged Hermione's admiration. Instead, Professor McGonagall decided to do something else.
It was the busiest part of breakfast, and the Great Hall was louder than usual, buzzing with rumors about the troll, rumors that were even more outlandish than usual. The strangest and most persistent of all were that the Boy-Who-Lived and another girl had stumbled into the Gryffindor Common Room an hour after the evac...
This was when Professor McGonagall rose to her feet and clinked a spoon against her goblet. "Mr. Potter," she said once the hubbub died down, "please approach the head table."
Hermione shot him a worried look, but he touched her shoulder and walked the length of the Hall to stand in front of McGonagall.
McGonagall regarded him sternly for a long moment before she spoke. "Last night, you disobeyed a direct order from the Headmaster, an order made for your own safety. You were caught with not one, not even two, but five very dangerous, prohibited weapons. You behaved insubordinately to professors and left in the middle ...
Harry glanced towards Dumbledore's golden throne; the aged wizard regarded him gravely. He turned back to McGonagall. "I know I broke a lot of school rules, but I believe every single thing I did last night was the right thing to do."
"I see," McGonagall said, lips thinning. "Mr. Potter, as punishment for the aforementioned actions, fifty points will be docked from Gryffindor." The Gryffindor table gasped. "You will sit detentions each night from seven to nine until Christmas break, save those nights when you have other school obligations during tho...
Harry gritted his teeth and opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione spoke first. "You're going to punish him for saving my life?" she shouted.
"Sit down, Miss Granger," McGonagall snapped. Hermione started to reply, but Harry caught her eye and shook his head minutely. She slowly sunk back into her seat.
"I understand, Professor," Harry said.
"Your trunk and dormitory will be searched this morning; if we find any other weapons, I may increase this punishment. You will not return to Gryffindor Tower before lunch. You are dismissed."
Harry returned to his now-cold eggs. The other students took much longer to return to their gossip.
But the juiciest rumor in Hogwarts since Professor Blake had been found in a broom cupboard with three fifth-year boys had just been confirmed.
And as for Hermione...
"I cannot believe that...that...that parochial, pedantic, sophistic, draconian harridan!" she told Harry, staring mutinously at McGonagall.
During the next few weeks, the teachers noticed a marked decrease in Hermione's class participation, but they assumed it was a temporary result of her traumatic experience. Gradually, it became the new normal.
They never realized what they'd lost.
"Did you notice Snape was limping?" Neville asked as they came up the stairs after Potions that day.
"Yes," Hermione said. "He looked like he was moving stiffly last night, didn't he?" Hermione said.
"Snape wasn't with the other teachers," Harry said. "They went down into the dungeons to find the troll, I think, but he went up the stairs alone."
Neville frowned. "Why would he do that?"
"I overheard Dumbledore ordering him to guard a "stone'," Harry said as they sat in the middle of the Gryffindor table.
"Stone? What stone?" Hermione asked.
"He didn't say," Harry said, reaching for a dish of potatoes, but he frowned when he missed the serving spoon.
He glanced over and the dish was empty. Must've not been paying attention, he decided, and reached for a plate of sandwiches.
"But it sounded like they both knew what he—" Once again, his hand met nothing but air. He looked up, and frowned as he noticed the plate was empty. It hadn't been like that before, had it?
This time, Harry watched as he reached for a steak and kidney pie, but the pie vanished a moment before he touched the plate.
"What...?" He glanced up and down the table, and spotted an older, bigger boy with a wand in his hand. Harry reached for a platter of steaks, keeping an eye on the boy; sure enough, the other boy flicked his wand, and the steaks vanished, reappearing on another platter further down the table.
Harry reached for his own wand and pointed it at one of the steaks, incating "Wingardium Leviosa." The steak lifted off the patter and floated down the table, landing on Harry's plate. The other boy glared; Harry gave him a cheeky grin and dug in.
After a lunch which was thankfully free of any more disappearing food, Harry, Hermione and Neville left the Great Hall. They turned at footsteps behind them to find Ron trying to catch up.
"Erm...hey," he said.
Hermione glared at him and Harry regarded him levelly, but Neville offered a polite "Hello."
"Hermione..." Ron scuffed his toe against the flagstones. "Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?"
"Alright," she said guardedly, and they headed off into a corridor for some privacy.
"What's that about?" Neville asked.
"Hermione was in the loo last night because Ron insulted her," Harry explained. "I...encouraged him to apologize."
"Right," Neville said skeptically.
It was about that time that Snape walked down the grand staircase. "Potter," he said, "a word."
Harry sighed. "Yes, Professor?"
"Your dormitory has been searched and no further...contraband has been found," Snape said. "I must admit, I was surprised. If you had so little sense that you'd carry five knives in your pockets, I thought you'd have more."
Harry usually tried to avoid lying directly, but he knew how to do it. The trick was to temporarily make yourself believe that the lie is the truth, and then to behave exactly as you would if you were being honest. So he quickly constructed the fiction in his mind, then met Snape's eyes, just as he would if he were tel...
Snape regarded him with a raised eyebrow for a long moment; Harry held the idea that he had no other knives fixed in his mind. After a moment, Snape said, "Designed to be thrown?"
"Throwing knives is a sort of...not sport, exactly, but a recreational skill among Muggles. It's usually done for show, but it can be useful at times."
"Trust a Potter to grandstand even in combat," Snape snorted. "Suffice to say, Potter, I'm not going to take your word on this—you might have anticipated the search and removed them from your trunk. Turn out your pockets."
Harry did, but he wasn't carrying anything against the rules.
"And your mokeskin pouch?"
"No, sir," Harry said truthfully. "Just a family heirloom in there—nothing dangerous."
"I see," he said, and held out his hand. "Your bag."
Harry swung it off his shoulder and watched as Snape rifled through it. After a moment, he withdrew Harry's Potions kit and popped it open. His silver Potions knife was inside.
"Tut, tut, Potter," Snape said. "That will be another ten points. At this rate, Gryffindor might run out before dinner..."
Harry's jaw tightened. This had been the point all along, hadn't it? Snape wasn't looking for weapons; he was looking for excuses.
"Sir, a Potions knife is standard school equipment—"
"But given your...history with such objects, you should not be carrying one for a moment longer than necessary. You should have returned it to your dormitory immediately after class."