Simon says...

After the match, the Slytherins celebrated with an overwhelming party in their Common Room; even Snape stopped by for a very short time. He generously ignored the Confundus Draught and stood away from the original party, occasionally talking with a few older students.

Harry had seen Hermione only shortly, directly after the match. She had said something about an exciting game but then moved on to Ron and the other players of Phoenix, who were gathered, downcast, at the edge of the field.

Draco walked over, holding two cups of Confundus Draught.

"If you hadn't caught the Snitch, we would have lost."

"And if you hadn't hit Withby with that Bludger, he would have caught it before me... it was a very close call. We need to play much better in the next game against Hufflepuff."

"Oh, we won't have any trouble with Hufflepuff," Draco replied, but Harry resolutely shook his head.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," he countered and took a sip of the potion, which this time tasted like fruitcake and lemon drops. Harry pulled a face and drained the whole contents, something he shouldn't have done. Now the taste irritation became even worse; he felt nauseous, sensing pudding, pickles mixed with fried potatoes and vanilla ice cream. As soon as the nausea weakened, the warm feeling spread through his body once again. He felt heavenly, totally forgetting all the bruises the Bludgers had left on him. He listened to Draco, Crabbe and Goyle talking about the match before he drifted off into the welcoming darkness of sleep.

In his dream, he heard puzzling voices, screams and crying. He seemed to be getting colder and colder, and before Harry's eyes, a Dementor materialized. He frantically tried not to surrender to unconsciousness. His hands anxiously searched his pockets for his wand. He couldn't find it. He heard Simon's voice yelling, "Expecto Patronum!" But just before the Dementor vanished, he heard Voldemort's characteristically high-pitched laugh.

When Harry woke up, he was drenched in sweat, though he could not remember anything. The party wasn't over yet; some Slytherins were still gathered around the fire. Harry got up and moved with trembling legs to his dormitory.

***

The following days resembled a nightmare. Students of all other Houses faced him with repulsion. The match seemed to have deteriorated the Slytherin reputation. But what really irritated him was that even Hermione was not talking to him. He couldn't tell if it was because of the match, or because she didn't want to face Ron at the same time. Every time he tried to contact Hermione, she was accompanied by her boyfriend, forcing Harry to back off again.

Right now, he could solely rely on the Slytherins, who, after witnessing him performing the Wronski Feint and catching the Snitch, had finally accepted him. Quidditch practice and the past match had united the team; therefore, Harry had found a substitute for his former friends, though he felt disappointed.

He had a hard time banishing Ron and Hermione from his mind. The memories of their shared heroic deeds of the past years and the current broken relationship hurt him awfully. They had no idea what it felt like being in midst of a bunch of Slytherins, knowing that every single one of them could be your worst enemy. He couldn't trust anyone, except Simon. He was different than the average Slytherin, sometimes looking just as lost as Harry. Yet still, he had managed to create a good status among the Slytherins within a short time.

'Do not trust a Slytherin!' This thought haunted his mind when he sat down with Simon and Fredric on a Thursday afternoon, his face appearing pale and worn out.

"What's frightening you, Harry?" Harry eyed Frederic suspiciously. Simon, who interpreted Harry's glance correctly, shoved the other boy away.

"Harry, you don't look good at all. What's up?" Simon addressed the obvious, setting a fixed stare on Harry's eyes.

"I ...don't know..." Harry replied honestly. He really wasn't sure. He had a hunch, but couldn't express it in words.

"Is it about Ron and Hermione?" Simon inquired knowingly and Harry silently lowered his head.

"If this is about your old friends, I won't be able to help you." Simon patted him on the shoulder. "I hardly know them. You'll have to talk to them yourself."

Harry nodded. Simon was right, after all, but just how should he handle the situation? Turning to leave, Simon called him back.

"Harry, there's a problem with the upcoming potion we mean to brew. Some of the ingredients are almost gone. I would have to go down to Hogsmeade to collect more, but the next visit is scheduled for a date after your examination."

"What about our appointment today after practice?"

"That's still on."

"I'll think about how to obtain the missing supplies," Harry said determinedly. "I'll see you on the field, then, got some homework left to finish."

***

Harry went to the library to check some facts for Herbology. After dinner, he fetched his Firebolt from the dormitory and ran down to the Quidditch Field. Malfoy, Simon, Frederic and Graham were already present.

"Practice is cancelled," Draco exclaimed as Harry approached.

"Why?" Harry asked, his eyes traveling around. All his teammates looked flustered. Frederic looked up to explain.

"Nott and Bole can't come. They are in the hospital wing."

"What happened?"

"They met a few acquaintances after dinner, Baddock and Whitby to be precise." They were both players for Phoenix, but Harry still didn't catch on.

"How thick can you be, Potter?" Draco spit venomously. Harry shook his head, confused. "Baddock and Whitby dueled with Nott and Bole. Do I also have to puzzle out for you who won?"

"No," Harry sighed, "but why?"

"There's always been the competition between Slytherin and Gryffindor," Simon reasoned quietly. "I'm afraid now we will soon fight with Phoenix as well."

They all stared at Simon, but nobody knew what to say. After sitting in silence for a while, Simon was the first to get up.

"Practice is over; let's get back to the castle."

Harry picked up his Firebolt and followed Simon down to the dungeons. They went to the Potions classroom right away to check on the potion Harry was currently brewing. Professor Snape had allowed them to store the simmering mixtures there in between lessons. He was still seated at his desk reading through a pile of parchment when the two of them entered the area.

"Already finished with practice, Mr. Lestrange?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

Simon instructed Harry to fetch the cauldron and re-heat the potion, then he took a seat opposite Snape.

"It was cancelled," he explained shortly. Snape looked at him questioningly. Simon seemed to expand his account of the events further, but Harry was occupied with other worries. The cauldron containing his Fortune Potion was extremely heavy. He tried to carry it to the fireplace, but didn't manage alone. Finally, he dared to use a Levitating Charm and carefully set it in place. If everything went all right, he might be able to give it the finishing touches today. He had learnt a lot with Simon, and though he was a strict teacher, it had been quite fun. He glanced over to Snape and Simon but couldn't understand what they were saying. He wasn't even sure if they were talking at all. Shortly afterwards, Snape rose from his chair.

"I don't intend to hold you off any longer," he exclaimed and gave Harry a look he didn't dare to interpret further.

While passing the cauldron, Snape took his chances and peaked into it. He stopped and observed its contents suspiciously.

"If you're helping too much, he won't be able to pass his exams -- again, Mr. Lestrange."

"Sir, he brewed this completely on his own," Simon replied honestly and moved closer to the cauldron as well.

Snape nodded. "If you don't mess it up now, this could be an E." The shadows of a forced smile were almost visible on his cold, hardly-moving lips. Then he left the classroom.

Surprised about the unexpected praise, Harry still couldn't feel happy about it. There were too many questions burning inside him, waiting to be spelled out, but he didn't know where to start.

"You should concentrate on the potion," Simon interrupted his thoughts. Harry nodded and reached for the box of boomslang skin. He spread it on a wooden board and started to scrape off the scales.

"Tell me," Harry hesitantly begun, "why do you think there will be more trouble between the Houses?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Harry shook his head. "I haven't really thought about it yet."

"Why was the fifth House introduced?" Simon asked.

"To reduce the amount of students in the classes," Harry said while adding the sheds to the potion and slowly stirring it.

"And?"

"And what?" Harry gave it some thought. Something stirred in the back of his head. "They are meant to fight Voldemort," he added.

"And what is Slytherin known for?

"For the amount of witches and wizards who are committed to the dark side." He began to understand. "But that's outr..." he started to say apprehensively.

"Oh, come on. Stop it," Simon interrupted. "It will come. You actually started it last year with the DA, and it won't be long until the fighting inside the school will unfold, before the Slytherins can join Voldemort. You were just the same only a little while ago. Look at your quarrels with Draco."

Harry thought about Simon's words and silently added a few drops of arachnotoxin to the boiling liquid. A rosy steam circled out of the cauldron, and Harry stirred it, concentrating.

"But last year, I would have never dreamt of being able to chat comfortably with any Slytherin like I can do with you. You have to acknowledge the differences."

"Harry, first of all, you didn't know the Slytherins last year and you put them all together in one cauldron with Draco Malfoy," Simon pointed out. His gaze was cool and calculating, as he looked at Harry. "Second, I am as much of a Slytherin as you are." Harry felt embarrassed.

"Sorry, you probably didn't imagine the hat's decision, either," Harry apologized. The steam had ceased and Harry extinguished the fire.

"Done," he declared. Simon nodded in agreement.

"Good, very good," he praised and scooped some of it into a bottle. He Vanished the rest with a flick of his wand. He carefully placed the bottle into some mechanical equipment. Harry had seen him use it before. It showed the accuracy of the ingredients of a potion as well as how useful and effective the potion would be. While the machine slowly started to emit whistling sounds and analyze the liquid, Simon turned back to Harry.

"Did you come up with an idea of how to get the missing ingredients?"

"Mmh, not really," Harry replied thoughtfully, "but there's a secret passage which leads directly into Hogsmeade, ending in Honeydukes."

"That's great. Then I could go Friday afternoon and buy everything so you can start Saturday with one of the health solutions."

Harry described to Simon in detail how to use the passage and warned him to be careful, it was the only way out Filch didn't know of yet, and it should stay that way.

***

The following Friday, the students of Slytherin once more appreciated the effects of Simon's special drink in the secure surroundings of their Common Room. Simon himself, however, was on his way to Hogsmeade. The past days had been calm, Nott and Bole had been released from the hospital wing two days earlier, and Quidditch practice was back on the schedule. The mood was relaxed and the cauldron quite empty when Malfoy rose from his seat.

"Hey, listen! Everyone!" Draco stepped onto a chair while the crowd looked up, surprised. "We can not tolerate this any longer. Why do you think Slytherins are said to be bad and treated like dirt in the gutter?" He appeared slightly drunk and had trouble maintaining his shaky position upon the chair, but he continued his speech nonetheless. "Because everyone else has forgotten the old ways. It doesn't matter anymore to be a true wizard, pure-blooded and noble. We are being forced to hide from Muggles and cover up our traces. How much longer can we bear this?" Draco took another sip from his cup and stepped on a table, a slightly more stable base than the squashy upholstery of the chair. Every single ear in the room was turned to listen to his words in admiration. Harry alone turned his back, staring into the crackling fire; still, he silently took note of the exclamations of the Malfoy heir.

"...It's time that we speak up and refuse to accept these conditions any longer. Time's ready to start the fight. Now it's our turn, our chance. We can't tolerate second-class wizards and witches from Muggle families among us, who take up educational places to later use their second-rate skills in our world. That's why I say: Let's fight together and ask our Master to support us in this. If we want to re-establish the old ways, we can be assured of the Dark Lord's help..." Draco hesitated as Simon entered the Common Room, but then continued with a confident voice. "Declare your solidarity now, only then we can achieve the strength to bring Hogwarts back to its roots..." Draco's voice deceased as Simon clutched his collar and dragged him off the table.

"You've said enough," he hissed and pushed him away, disgustedly. Draco tumbled and fell to the floor.

"Simon? You of all people say that?"

"Shut up and piss off," Simon threatened and addressed the crowded students. "I coincidently overheard today that a student of Phoenix has been attacked, and I highly suspect that the culprit is currently in this Common Room." Simon paused and looked to the present students. "Lately, there hasn't been a single day without a fight between a Slytherin and a Phoenix. The teachers will try to find out who is behind these attacks and what's going on inside our House. We cannot afford to have speeches like this!" Simon shot one sharp look at Draco and his cronies and then left for the dormitories.

***

Harry had had a little bit too much of the Confundus Draught himself and couldn't quite understand what his fellow Slytherins were saying after Simon had left. He continuously stared into the fiery flames, maybe in hope they would provide him with answers. At some point he must have fallen asleep. Suddenly, someone patted him lightly on his shoulder.

"It's time..." a voice whispered.

"What..." Harry could only mumble in his sleep. When he finally opened his eyes, Simon was kneeling in front of him.

"Everyone else has gone to bed. You should, too."

"What time is it?" Harry asked.

"Almost three."

Harry straightened up; now he was wide-awake.

"Simon, why did it take you so long in Hogsmeade?"

"Not important," Simon calmed him. "I met a former classmate; she left school last year."

"Well," Harry said standing up, "I guess I should get to bed. When should we meet for potions tomorrow?"

"Not before lunch, I guess," Simon said with a smile.

***

The next morning, Harry woke once again with the terrible, throbbing pain in his head, and once again he regretted the luring taste of the Confundus Potion. He was very tired and barely dragged himself down to the Great Hall for some breakfast. He was late and hardly anyone was occupying the House tables. He sat down at the empty Slytherin table; he knew he had to eat something, even though the now-common sickness persisted. He started on a jam toast when his glance fell on the latest issue of the Daily Prophet.

New concept for Azkaban failed

The concept, only established two months ago during an emergency meeting of the Ministry's Crisis Committee, threatens to fail terribly. To prevent another mass outbreak of still-imprisoned Death Eaters, the Dementors were strengthened by a group of specially-trained wizards and witches.

Yesterday, after the end of the testing phase, most employees declared their refusal to continue their work with the Dementors. Many reported independently about their suffering under the working conditions. Apparently, the Dementors do not differentiate between prisoners and co-workers.

Three days ago, the first wizard was brought to St. Mungo's, experiencing distress and closing in on insanity, causing the crisis squad to meet again and discuss further actions.

After reading the article, Harry regretted that he had refused to read it for such a long time. Apparently, the last three months had brought many changes. This crisis squad must have been established after Voldemort's return, but the article didn't give enough information about its role.

Harry got up and left the Great Hall. He searched his way back to the Common Room through the long corridors. But before he reached it, he met Malfoy, most certainly in company of Crabbe and Goyle.

"Potter, tell me, did you like my little speech last night?" Malfoy grinned.

Harry didn't respond to this, but rather attempted to pass the group but they blocked the way.

"Malfoy, please let me through," Harry demanded annoyed but still polite.

"Admit it. These were completely new ideas for you. You listened!"

"Leave me in peace!" Harry yelled at Draco. "I don't want to have anything to do with this at all!" But there was no reaction. Harry lunged for his wand. If Draco didn't want to clear the way voluntarily, he would have to help him.

"You want a duel?" Draco sneered, bringing out his own wand and crouching into a defensive position.

"If there's no other way..." Harry trailed off to shout, "Expelliarmus!"

Draco was now unarmed and Harry thought of taking advantage and hexing him into oblivion and maybe even back. He liked the idea, but before he could decide upon which curses to use, he was hit by Petrificus Totalus and his rigid body slammed onto the floor. Malfoy was holding Goyle's wand.

"Looks like you forgot that there are three opponents," Malfoy spewed, full of scorn, stepping closer to Harry.

"Stop it!" Harry heard Simon's angry voice from somewhere down the corridor, hurrying to them.

"Draco, didn't I try to tell you, explain to you, why you need to leave him alone?" His tone of voice sounded threatening and his eyes were fixed upon Draco's.

Finally, Simon turned to Harry and freed him form the curse. Harry struggled into an upright position while Simon turned his attention to Draco and forcefully pushed the younger Slytherin into an empty classroom.

"We need to talk."

TBC