They Shook Hands: Year Two (Original Version)

They Shook Hands

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Eight - Facing The Music

Harry rummaged through his trunk, looking for his homework. In the shuffle the trunk had gone through since he had packed his things away, it had slipped from the place he'd secured it. He had taken out the books he would need for his classes that day, and now he hunted for his summer homework. This was ridiculous; homework didn't move. Yet it wasn't in any obvious place. He pulled out his other textbooks, stacking them on the floor beside his trunk.

Draco stuck his head into the room. "Harry? Everyone's waiting for you."

"I can't find my homework," he said, not even looking at his friend.

"Well where did you leave it?" Draco asked, coming over.

"It should be right here," Harry burst out with exasperation. He pushed some clothes aside; he hadn't unpacked fully as yet.

"Obviously it's not," Draco noted unhelpfully.

"Obviously," Harry said, rolling his eyes. He did not need Draco's deadpanning right now. "Look, why don't you just go up to breakfast. I've got to keep looking."

"Are you sure?" Draco asked. "I'll help you look."

"No, I can handle it," Harry sighed. "I'll be up when I find it."

"Okay. Just don't be late," Draco advised. "Here, take my schedule. I'll get yours from Abraham. We've got Transfiguration first thing."

"Now I definitely need to find my homework," Harry grumbled. The last thing he wanted to do was face Professor McGonagall without his summer assignment in hand.

Perhaps he should just unpack everything from his trunk. Emptying it would be the most expedient way of finding the folder if it was hiding somewhere. Harry nodded. Yes, that made sense.

He piled all his clothes in a heap on his bed, then he stacked his school books on the floor next to his trunk. His supplies of Potions ingredients were the next to come out, followed by his Astronomy things, his broom care kit, and a package of owl treats for Regal. That was just about everything he owned. With some care, he removed the invisibility cloak that had belonged to his father and hung it in the back of his wardrobe.

His trunk was empty now. His spare quills, ink, and parchment were put away in his desk. The few books he owned had been added to the stack of his school texts. His Gobstones and wizard chess pieces were on top of his dresser. He knew the location of everything he owned, but the folder he had put all of his summer assignments in was gone.

Harry stared down into his empty trunk in disbelief. He had never had anything he owned go missing before. Indeed, he had owned nothing while living with the Dursleys, and Dudley would have freely taken it if he had. Living in Slytherin House, he trusted all of his friends completely and knew that they would never go through his things. None of them would play this sort of joke on him. Thus, he was in a state of shock that something like this had happened.

The curses that began spewing from his mouth would have shocked his friends to the quick. Harry did not normally lose his temper; he was a level-headed boy. But now his hands clenched into fists, his knees began to tremble, and his swearing continued unabated.

He kicked his trunk in a sudden explosion of rage. There was no other place for his homework to be. This was unbelievable, yet it was happening. Angrily, he began tearing through his books, wondering if he might have, not thinking, stuck the folder between the pages. He had not.

There was nothing more he could do here. Harry grimly stuffed his books into his bag and shouldered it. He would just have to go. This was not an auspicious way to start the school year. He was frustrated. He'd worked hard on his homework, and now it was just wasted effort.

He double-checked to make sure his wand was secure in the sheath on his belt. Perhaps he would run into Weasley. In his foul mood, Harry would happily hex the smarmy, Gryffindor twit and not even think twice about it.

Despondently, he left his room and passed through the stone wall that was the entrance to Slytherin House. He shuffled his feet, walking slowly, trying to figure out what he was going to tell Professor McGonagall. Her stern, imposing gaze would see right through any feeble excuse he offered. Perhaps the truth, as strange as it was, would be the best option.

As he approached the Great Hall, the doors opened up and students began to depart. Wonderful. He'd missed breakfast. He went to go find his friends, who were just finishing up.

"Any luck?" Draco asked sympathetically.

"None," Harry sighed, snagging an apple.

"Is that for breakfast, or are you hoping that kissing up to old McGonagall will save you a dressing down?" Tim asked slyly.

"I don't think anything can save me from that," Harry said, crunching into the fruit. "I'm resigned to it."

"You'll find it in a week or so, after you've redone all the assignments," Blaise told him, squeezing his hand. "It's the nature of things. I once lost my favourite book and only found it once my parents had got me another copy."

"And where did you find your belovéd dictionary?" Jenna asked.

"You are not supposed to be having coffee," Blaise retorted, removing the near-full cup from her hands.

"Awww," Jenna sighed, highly disappointed.

Harry grinned momentarily despite himself. "Well, time to go face the music," he said lightly, despite the sinking feeling in his guts.

He was pleased that his memory of the castle hadn't dulled over the summer. Despite his distraction over his missing homework, his feet knew exactly where they were walking. He even remembered to jump over the disappearing step.

Professor McGonagall was not waiting for them when they arrived. Harry had held out a faint hope that he might talk privately with her before the lecture, but that was dashed now. He began mentally preparing himself for the tirade he was certain to hear. At least his friends knew what had happened and wouldn't think any less of him.

"Good morning, Slytherins," Professor McGonagall greeted them as she entered the room. "Please pass your summer assignments forward."

No sense in putting it off. Harry raised his hand. "Professor?"

"Please wait to be called on, Mister Potter. What is it?"

"My essay has gone missing," he told her. "I wrote it, put it in a folder with my other assignments, and when I went to look for it this morning, it was gone."

Just as he had predicted, Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed, and she looked down at him over her spectacles. "Am I to understand that your Transfiguration assignment somehow vanished of its own accord from your folder, Mister Potter?" Her tone was sceptical.

"No, Professor," he corrected her. "The whole folder has vanished."

She stared down her nose at him some more.

"Harry did his assignment, Professor," Draco interrupted. "I saw it."

"Silence, Mister Malfoy." The old witch pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "Detention, Mister Potter, this Saturday. I will inform you as to the details later. You will also write your assignment over and turn it in to me no later than the start of our next meeting on Monday. Now then, our subject today is..."

Harry tried his best to pay attention, but inside he was seething. Detention on his first day back. He hated Professor McGonagall in that moment. He hoped Blaise was taking good notes, because his own were hardly legible.

When she began asking questions, Harry raised his hand with his friends, but McGonagall never called on him. Every time he put his hand down, he seethed that much more. Why wouldn't she give him the opportunity to earn some points for Slytherin? Was she deliberately trying to humiliate him?

Perhaps she thought he'd simply slacked off over holiday and was only pretending to know the answer. She was Head of Gryffindor House and had a dim view of Slytherins; this he knew for a fact. If he hadn't done his summer homework, he wouldn't have known any of the answers to her questions. But he did! Tired of being ignored, Harry stopped raising his hand.

When the class mercifully came to an end, he left the room with relief. It was time to retreat to the safety of the dungeons. Potions lecture with Professor Snape, his own Head of House, would brighten his mood.

"Anyone feel like getting Weasley after class?" he asked as they walked.

"Love to," Draco answered immediately. "What for?"

"Fun?" Harry questioned, as though it were obvious.

Tim laughed. "He's turning vicious on us."

"I can't hex old McGonagall, but I can get some satisfaction out of hexing a Gryffindor," Harry said heatedly. "Any of them will do."

"Why not all of them?" Jenna asked. "Why should we show favour?"

"Too right," Pansy agreed. "A mass Tripping Jinx would be perfect. They'd be crashing into each other and into the walls."

"Pansy, I do believe that's the first good idea you've ever had," Tim said admiringly.

"Oh shut up," she told him. "This is important."

When they arrived at the classroom, the students sat in their customary seats, and Harry glared daggers at Weasley as the Gryffindors gradually trickled in. Clumsy Neville Longbottom tripped over his feet as he crossed the threshold, and Draco let loose with a loud guffaw as the other boy crashed to the floor. The rest of the Slytherins joined in a second later, as Parvati Patil helped Longbottom to his feet.

Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas all gave the Slytherins dirty looks, but before any words could be exchanged, Professor Snape made his entrance as dramatically as ever by slamming the door behind him as he exited his office, and he stood there watching them all with his fingers arched.

"Weasley, where may one find a bezoar?" he asked, his mouth curling into a sneer.

Weasley choked. Harry could have shouted with glee. Professor Snape had asked Weasley that question at the beginning of first year, and again the next week. The boy hadn't known the answer either time and had lost points. From the expression on his face, he still didn't know.

"Sir, I-" he began hesitantly.

"Tell me how it is, Weasley, that a whole year has passed since I first asked you that question and you still do not know the answer," Snape demanded acidly. Harry could hear Draco trying very hard to muffle his laughter in the seat behind him. Blaise, sitting beside him, wasn't doing much better.

Snape wasn't waiting for an answer. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and I think a detention is in order. I will notify you." His hard eyes seemed to dare the Gryffindor to protest. "Now then, tomorrow you will all prepare the Moving Picture Potion. If you were diligent in your reading for the summer homework, you should be capable of making the potion at this moment."

His eyes scanned the room. The Potions Master was about to begin asking his famous questions. Harry sat straighter in his seat. After the horrible experience in Transfiguration, he'd be glad to show that he had some brains in his head.

"Mister Potter, what is the base we will use for this potion?" he asked, beginning with the very simple.

"One third vinegar, two thirds water, sir," Harry responded in a clear voice.

"Correct," Snape said. "And the first step of the procedure?"

"Before we even add the vinegar, we must distil the water," Harry replied.

"Excellent. Fifteen points to Slytherin." Snape sounded pleased.

The questions went on for another ten minutes before Snape seemed convinced that they were prepared to attempt brewing the potion. Gryffindor was down fifteen points, while Slytherin had gained nearly sixty. Harry's black mood had completely vanished by the time Snape began lecturing on the properties of yew, the dust of which they would be using in the potion.

When the bell tolled the end of class, Harry quickly put away his things and shouldered his bag. Crabbe and Goyle sat near the front, and they stopped right in front of the door, apparently arguing some small point. In reality, they were blocking the exit, concentrating all the Gryffindors in a group for easier hexing. Harry and his fellow Slytherins held back.

It was Weasley, predictably enough, who grew irritable first and tried to shove his way past the stocky boys. They let him succeed, and the Gryffindors filed into the hall, followed unseen by the Slytherins.

"Bloody horrible," Weasley was complaining to Longbottom. "I made sure to know all about bezoars for the third class last year, but he waits until now to ask me about them again? The man is sick!"

"Wands out," Draco whispered. Each Slytherin took aim at a different Gryffindor.

"Now!" Harry breathed.

"Lapso Accidere!" they muttered in unison.

The first jinx hit Lavender Brown. She stumbled into Parvati Patil who crashed into Amy Geagan. A second jinx hit Chrissy Golding, and she fell against Finnigan. Longbottom tripped all on his own and grabbed at Weasley's robes as he fell. The worn and frayed robes made a delightful tearing noise as the fabric split. A jinx hit Weasley at that moment, and he fell to the floor with a crash. Thomas was turning to see what was going on when a jinx hit him, and he flew sideways and smacked off the wall. They all collapsed into one pile of flailing limbs.

Harry laughed until his sides hurt. As the Slytherins made their way out of the dungeons and up to the Great Hall for lunch, Harry admitted that maybe his day wouldn't be quite so bad as all that.

Hurriedly rewriting his Astronomy assignment took up most of his attention, but Harry was able to eat a sandwich while scratching away with his quill. He got on well with Professor Sinistra, but if he didn't give her something, she would be very put out with him. He glanced from time to time at Tim's parchment and at Blaise's as well. Harry liked Astronomy and was quite good at it, so he didn't need to copy word for word; he only checked to double-check his facts. If he had needed to seek drastic help, he would turn to Pansy or Crabbe.

"Finished," he said finally, tossing down the quill and reaching for another sandwich.

"Better eat that on the way up," Millie told him. "It's just about that time."

"Bother," Harry complained, taking a large bite and stuffing his things into his bag. The walk up to the Astronomy Tower was long, so their lunch hour was actually closer to forty-five minutes, which could get to be inconvenient.

As they came out onto the battlements, Harry took a deep breath of the warm sunshine. It was a good sign, he felt. Whatever had happened to his homework, the worst of it was over. He could rewrite his other assignments tonight. He might not get much sleep, but on Thursdays, they had no classes before lunch. They had been discussing the great surprise it had been to see the open space in the schedule.

"If Flint makes me get up early on Thursdays, I'm going to go spare," Harry commented. The Quidditch Captain was notoriously fanatic about practices.

The Astronomy classroom was just as Harry remembered it. Professor Sinistra was seated at her desk, but rather than sleepy as she had appeared one year ago, today she appeared to be wide awake. Her black hair had been pulled back to reveal her face.

"Good morning, Slytherins!" she said cheerfully.

"Good morning, Professor Sinistra," they chorused. She stopped in her tracks.

"Now tell me, why did you say good morning when you know perfectly well that it's afternoon?" she asked. "Pansy?"

"Well, I, um, you said good morning," Pansy hedged nervously.

Sinistra smiled in a sardonic way. "No," she shook her head. "Good afternoon," she said deliberately.

"Good afternoon," they repeated.

"Oh dear," Sinistra murmured, taking some notes.

The Slytherins looked at each other uncertainly. This was confusing. Tim raised his hand. "Professor?"

She looked up. "Now then, Astronomy!"

Except for a commotion several floors down, the lecture was very interesting. Loud crashes kept interrupting Professor Sinistra, and she was getting very cross by the time she called an end to the lecture.

"Perhaps when we meet again on Friday, this disturbance will be gone. Dismissed."

Harry was one of the first down the stairs. He was very curious indeed about the source of the noise. Strangely enough, it seemed to be coming from the direction of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom! Cautiously, the Slytherins inched their way down the corridor.

The scene inside the classroom was one of chaos and destruction. Having seen Dudley throw more than one tantrum, Harry recognized artistry when he saw it. The scene verged more on the lines of a natural disaster. Professor Lockhart was nowhere to be seen, but dozens of electric-blue Cornish pixies were wrecking anything they could get their tiny hands on.

"Help! Potter, help me!" The voice was coming from very high up. Harry peered around until he saw Neville Longbottom clinging to a ceiling beam.

"Look!" he exclaimed, pointing at the trapped Gryffindor.

Tim began to laugh, and soon they were all hysterical. One of the pixies came flying towards the door to get them, but Draco zapped it with a hex Harry didn't hear. The spark of blue light sent the flying creature spiralling to the floor.

"Shouldn't we do something about this?" Harry asked. "Longbottom is trapped up there. We ought to help him."

"We'll tell a prefect," Draco decided. "We're only second year students. We should really just stay out of it. We haven't learned how to deal with pixies yet. We could get hurt."

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, but he followed as his friends meandered to the dungeons via a roundabout route. On the way, every student they met was informed about the Longbottom situation. Most of them hurried off to point and laugh at the Gryffindor.

Without a Defence class to attend, the Slytherins had the rest of the day free. Harry had homework to rewrite, so he reluctantly sat at his desk as the others played games out in the common room. The only sound was his quill scratching over the parchment as he wrote.

* * *

In the morning, Harry was the only one in his room who woke early. His friends took advantage of the two free periods they had before lunch to sleep in. Harry hauled himself out of bed and stumbled to the shower. He would go up to breakfast and then finish rewriting his homework once his brain had kicked off sleep entirely.

He was surprised to find Jenna sitting in the common room when he emerged from the dorm. She was sitting near the fire reading a parchment. "Good morning, Jenna," he said brightly.

Jenna yawned. "Morning, Harry. Off for a spot of breakfast, are you?"

"That was the plan," he admitted. "Then it's going to be time to hit the books. What are you doing up so early?"

She looked at him warily. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Harry felt startled. He'd thought it had just been an ordinary question. "Of course," he replied. "What's the big deal?"

Jenna looked around at the empty common room, seeming to check for eavesdroppers. "I'm going to sneak a cup of coffee," she whispered.

Harry muffled a snort of laughter. She was reminding him of a bad Muggle spy movie. "That's all?"

She gave him a mock glare. "Not funny. I love coffee, and I never get to drink it at school. They never let me. So are you going to turn me in?"

Harry felt his guts twist as she asked that question. "Never," he said solemnly. "Let's go up."

So Harry and Jenna sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, sipping coffee and eating scones. Harry had never tasted coffee before, and he found that it was quite enjoyable; strong, but enjoyable. Seeing the other students slowly arriving was sort of fun; Harry found himself chuckling frequently over some of Jenna's more outrageous comments. By far the funniest was her absolute conviction that Professor Lockhart had dressed himself, then woken up and turned on the lights. Harry was still laughing when the professor approached them.

"Good morning, Harry," Lockhart said brightly. "You're an early riser, I see. Good for you."

Harry fought an urge to roll his eyes. Everyone rose this early so they could eat breakfast. "Good morning, Professor," he responded neutrally. Why did this overdressed popinjay have to bother him?

"Good morning, Professor Lockhart!" Jenna greeted him with a perky voice. "We missed you yesterday for class."

Lockhart choked on whatever it was he'd been about to say next. Coughing, he attempted to regain some composure. His face was a bit red, probably from his coughing fit.

"Most unfortunate incident," he said pompously. "Was held up for a few minutes, and apparently one of the students decided to turn loose a cage full of Cornish pixies I'd been planning to use as a demonstration. By the time I was finally able to get to the classroom, most of the excitement was over, I'm afraid."

"That's too bad," Jenna sympathized, still using her sugary-sweet voice. "Well, we'll see you on Tuesday. You'll have to talk doubly fast to catch us up on the materials."

"Indeed, you're right." Lockhart bestowed his gleaming white smile on them. "What a clever girl you are. Ten points for Slytherin."

"Thank you, sir!" she simpered. "Good morning!"

"Good morning." And Lockhart hurried away.

"What an ass!" Jenna snorted, sipping from her cup.

"You don't like him?" Harry was surprised. "I thought I was the only one who couldn't stand him."

"I have never met anyone with a bigger ego, and that includes Draco," she sniffed.

Harry noticed two first years standing nearby. He glanced over and saw the Slater twins gaping at him with identical expression of wonderment. Harry smiled at them. "Good morning."

The girl, Laine, made a noise that sounded suspiciously like "Eep!" Her face coloured readily, and she buried her face in her brother's shoulder. The boy, Lucas, shyly waved at Harry.

"Potter, isn't it?" he asked casually, then flushed. "Oh, how stupid of me, of course it is. I'm Slater. I just wanted to say hello. I'm so honoured to meet you."

Jenna was smirking at Harry. He shot her back a dirty look. "The pleasure's all mine, Slater. Nice to meet you, and your sister."

The girl made another "Eep!" Slater nodded his head. "Very good then. See you around."

As the twins went to go sit, Jenna let out the laughter she'd been holding in. Harry put his head in his hands and sighed. His celebrity last year had been bad enough. Now it looked as though a whole new group of students was going to find him absolutely fascinating.

"You're not helping," he said crossly to the chortling Jenna.

* * *

"There," Harry said with satisfaction, wiping off his quill pen and setting it down. "All finished."

"And in only a relatively few hours," Tim admired. "I'm impressed."

"Be impressed all you want," Harry replied, "but I'm hungry."

His friends had lazed about in bed until nearly half ten, and then they lounged about in pyjamas for another hour watching Harry finish his homework. When they had offered to help, Harry had refused. He'd gotten into enough trouble by not having his homework ready to turn in. He certainly didn't want to be accused of cheating on it.

His hand was cramping up something fierce. Thankfully the class after lunch was only History of Magic, and he could not bother taking notes there. Surely the soreness would be gone by the time they descended to the dungeons again for double Potions with Gryffindor.

Harry didn't even bother to bring his thick, heavy book for History of Magic. There was no sense in hauling the great thing up and down all those steps when they never referred to it anyway. His bag was light and so was his step as the second year Slytherins emerged from the stone corridors of the basement.

"What is that little twerp doing there?" Millie muttered. She meant her younger brother, who was standing at the entrance to the Great Hall with a smaller boy, who had mousy brown hair and clutched an old-fashioned camera.

"There he is," Arcen said to the boy. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to eat, Creevey."

"What's going on?" Tim wondered quietly.

"Beats me," Pansy shrugged.

"Let's find out," Draco said, sauntering forward. He stopped directly in front of the boy, who looked petrified by facing down so many Slytherins. "What do you want, Gryffindor?"

The boy's face went pale at Draco's hostility. "M-m-my name is Colin C-creevey," he stuttered. "I w-wanted to meet Harry P-p-potter. P-perhaps have a picture taken to prove I m-met him."

Harry groaned inwardly and looked up at the ceiling. Why me? he demanded silently.

Draco was giving Creevey a withering look. "Absolutely out of the question," he said derisively.

Creevey's face fell. "But-but, I just-"

Tim decided to speak up. "Are you deaf? Or stupid? We just told you that it's out of the question. Now get lost, or we'll find some quiet place to dispose of your body, Mudblood."

"What does that word mean?" Creevey asked in a very subdued tone of voice.

"Goyle, be a dear and take this piece of trash to an empty classroom and show him exactly what it means, will you please?" Pansy interjected.

Goyle grinned. "Sure, Pansy." The boy grabbed onto Creevey's robes, clapped a hand over his mouth, and dragged him off.

"What's he going to do to him?" Harry asked anxiously. He could do without getting into more trouble so soon in the year.

"Oh, nothing permanent," Crabbe assured him. "Goyle will just rough him up a bit, inform him that Harry Potter does not take kindly to strangers gawping at him, and suggest that he keep his distance in the future."

Jenna giggled. "Crabbe, I do believe that's the single longest statement I've ever heard you make."

"I'm the strong and silent type," he countered.

"Not at night, you're not," Tim laughed, and they all had a good chuckle.

"Potter, I'd like a word with you." That was Professor McGonagall; he'd recognize her stern voice anywhere. He put on a pleasant face.

"Good day, Professor," he said politely. He looked over at his friends and nodded, indicating that they should go on without him.

"I have here the details of your detention," she informed him, handing him a folded piece of parchment.

"I have something for you too," Harry told her, fighting the urge to say something snappy that would likely get him more detention. He rummaged in his bag and produced his rewritten Transfiguration homework. "Here," he said, handing it over.

The grey-haired professor took the parchment, scanned it, and looked down her nose at him. "This is all your own work?" she demanded sharply. "None of your friends helped you write it?"

Harry struggled to keep back the stream of vulgarity that he so desperately wanted to let out. "It's my work, Professor," he said as calmly as he could. "I'd already written it once, so writing it over again wasn't so hard."

She gave him another piercing glance, trying to determine if he was sassing her or not. "Very well then. Enjoy your lunch."

Harry sat down with his friends and opened up the parchment she had given him. "Oh no, I've got detention with Lockhart!" he exclaimed.

Jenna patted his hand. "I'm sure that's the most diabolical thing they could come up with," she reassured him. "A few hours of listening to that git prattle on about himself would be torture for anyone."

Harry ate as his friends speculated about the odious form his detention would take. There were suggestions of helping Lockhart to brush his hair, taking photographs of the man, or helping to polish his ego. Harry stuffed the parchment into his bag, determined to ignore it until Saturday night.

The post usually came in the morning, so Harry was surprised when Arlette came swooping in with a letter for Draco. He opened it eagerly as Arlette began snacking on the leftover food on his plate.

"It's from Elan!" Draco cried jubilantly.

Harry felt a sudden stab of guilt. He hadn't thought about the older boy since he had arrived at school. He waited impatiently for Draco to finish reading; he wanted to ask how his brother was coping with life at Durmstrang. He opened his mouth to inquire after the former Hogwarts prefect, but the bell sounded, prompting the students to rise en masse.

"So how is the old boy?" Tim asked as they began the trek to History of Magic. "Is Durmstrang interesting?"

"I haven't finished reading," Draco replied. "But I gather he doesn't like it."

to be continued...