The Boy Who Lived Without a Broom

The other boy gaped at him. "You don't own a broom? You're the bloody Boy Who Lived! How can the Boy Who Lived, youngest seeker in a century, not have his own broom?"

Harry's smile turned wry. "My guardians aren't too keen on them."

"Ooh, your mysterious guardians," Davis said as she also sat down on his left side. "Who did you say they were again?"

"I didn't."

Parkinson scoffed at him. "Come on, Potter, don't you think this 'mysterious' act is getting a bit old?"

"It's not an act," Harry said earnestly, "I just don't want to talk about it. It's really quite simple."

"Well I think mysterious works for you," Greengrass put in.

Parkinson scowled. "You would."

"Maybe you should come clean, Potter," Davis said, "People might get the wrong impression. Like you have something to hide -"

"Oh lay off him, will you?" Theo spoke up with a scowl. "If he's hiding something he has a good reason for it."

Davis's eyebrows went up. "You know something we don't, Theo?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would."

"Well -"

"I, personally, would rather know where Potter spends his leisure time, in the summer."

It was Draco Malfoy who spoke, drawing everyone's immensely surprised stares to him. This was the first time they'd seen him engage Harry in conversation (even if only indirectly) since last October.

"I wonder what kind of company he keeps, what kind of places he visits..." Malfoy drawled with a glint in his eye.

Harry looked him in the eye, his face blank. "Oh yes, and while we're at it, we can talk about where your father's been running his errands. Selling, did he say?"

Malfoy went white at that, and he looked away, clearly realizing his mistake.

Davis sighed dramatically. "I feel like we've just witnessed some masterful blackmailing, everyone. Perhaps we owe Harry an applause."

Malfoy glared at her.

Harry laughed uneasily. "You owe me nothing of the sort. No blackmail going on here, just trying to stay out of trouble, is all."

Parkinson scoffed at him. "You? Stay out of trouble?"

Harry frowned, recalling Hermione's words. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Says the youngest seeker in a century," Davis pointed out, "How did that happen, again? Catching Longbottom's rememberall, was it?"

"Let's not forget the mudblood and the troll incident," Zabini said under his breath.

Parkinson scowled darkly. "Who could forget that?"

"And then," Davis said with a grin, "There was the Philosopher's Stone."

With that, Parkinson set her infamously prissy glare on Harry. "What was, that anyway, Potter? You never did explain yourself! Why in Merlin's name would you care if a stupid stone got stolen? Awfully Gryffindorish, if you ask me."

"I didn't," Harry said quietly.

"What?"

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't go after the Stone," he said, "That's the cover story Professor Dumbledore made up."

Everyone's eyes went wide.

"Cover story?" Greengrass said with relish.

Davis rose an eyebrow. "Then what were you up to?"

"Professor Quirrell," Harry said simply. "I wanted to speak with Professor Quirrell."

Everyone went silent at that, suddenly understanding the implication.

"So you weren't being brave," Parkinson finally said, "You were being stupid."

Harry smiled. "Perhaps."

"You really are an idiot, Potter," the girl continued derisively.

A moment later she was hit in the face by a spoonful of peas.

"THEO!"

Harry sighed.

"I'm surprised I don't have a headache."

"Oh?"

"I would have thought you'd be upset about my decision to come clean about the Philosopher's Stone to the Slytherins."

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "And you did it anyway."

Harry had the decency to look ashamed at that.

"Dumbledore already knows. There's no point in keeping it a secret at the expense of your reputation."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"However, don't think I've forgotten your little oath. 'Harry Potter is a parselmouth'? You stupid, stupid child."

Harry grimaced. "Theo already knew."

"But the mudblood didn't!"

"Hermione won't tell anyone, Tom."

His friend scowled at him. "And how could you possibly know that?"

"If she didn't say anything about the Dursleys, she won't say anything about this."

"How does that follow? They're completely unrelated!" his reflection hissed at him.

"That's not the point."

"Then enlighten me, Harry," Tom said sarcastically, "What is the point?"

"The point is that Hermione has no reason to betray me."

"She also has no reason not to betray you."

"That's not true. She values my trust."

"Your what?" Tom said incredulously.

"I trust Hermione, Tom."

"She's done nothing to earn our trust!" Tom said angrily, and Harry could feel his scar starting to burn.

He rubbed his scar. "Except keeping my secrets, except being my friend."

"Neither of which should earn her your trust."

Harry frowned. "What else could I possibly ask of her?"

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Would she be willing to kill for you? Die for you?"

Harry's eyes widened, and he sputtered for a moment. "I-I don't want her to do either of those things!"

Tom stared at him, eyes cold. "A time will come, Harry, when you will require that kind of loyalty, and nothing less than that kind of loyalty should win your trust."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I don't want anyone to be killed because of me. I don't want anyone to die for me," he said quietly.

"That will change."

"Does it really have to?"

Tom's red eyes flickered. :Yes.:

.....

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